Overdosing on Food TV

Today I think I finally overdosed, at least that’s what I think happened. My brain finally snapped as I switched TV channels and saw yet another food-related show. I could take it no longer. The mere thought of watching some poor soul melting down at the same time as their desert crumbled during preparation sent me to the fridge for a beer. And not just any beer, a decent strong continental one – something that was guaranteed to numb my senses quickly.
I thought that I could change channel and watch something else, but no! There was a celebrity chef swanning around some part of the world wearing a smug expression while making cooking seem really easy, safe in the knowledge that if it was so easy, people would not be coming to his restaurant and paying his wages, let alone watching him guzzle food in some exotic location.

So, after another trip to the fridge I changed channels again, only to find that was being verbally assaulted by some over-tanned bloke trying to sell me something called the Nutribullet. Not only could it vapourise food with its mere presence in the kitchen, or at least blend it into some sort of unappetizing gloopy mess, it could do the same to your brain simply by watching it on the TV. That was the only reason that I could come up with why people would part with their hard-earned cash for such a contraption. Time for another beer – no this time I got two.

I was now onto channel number four, but there was no respite there either. Bear Grylls was cavorting around topless eating some freshly slaughtered wild animal, or perhaps it was a slug, I can’t remember – the screen was getting blurry by now, but I think he was cooking it with the pure heat of his manly stare. It was beer o’clock – again.

Finally, after a fifth attempt at finding a channel with something unrelated to food, I found a movie – about food – Chocolat to be precise. So, I quickly flicked channels again – and there it was, Pirates of the Caribbean. By now I was only vaguely aware of time passing, and even though this movie had only been on last month, and the month before that and, possibly, only last week on one channel or another when I watched it for the 947th time, it was not food related. The beer was working now, and I was close to dozing off while Jack Sparrow camped it up and Captain Barbosa wished he could just taste an apple – and there it was. Food. Again. There was no escape. I think that was about the time I passed out.

About George Fripley
I am a writer who enjoys writing humour, satire, poetry and sometimes a bit of philosophy. I live in Perth, Western Australia and occasionally get a poem or article published. It's all good fun! I have two books available for unwary readers, Grudges, Rumours and Drama Queens- The Civil Servant's Manual (This contains all that anybody could ever want to know about why government runs so slowly) and More Gravy Please! - the Politician's Handbook. (available through Amazon). Real name Peter Tapsell...just started off writing under a pseudonym and kept going.

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