After a brief spell in the presence of “that most immediate media” this Christmas, I now find myself once again enjoying, well, appreciating, well, experiencing television at one or two degrees of separation.
I’ve therefore been able to miss all but the trailers for what the 6Myüsic continuity announcer refers to as “Killi’ Keuhki’ Eati'”, which is entirely unrelated to the Finnish holiday resort of similar name. I’ve been treated several times to the same woman saying how she’s been a vegetarian for ten—or was it twelve?—years now, and is regretting her decision to instead become an idiot. And it’s always followed by another wretch explaining how she’s only just understanding the “mégnityüd” of what she’s about to do, which is an interesting consequence of the conflation by the masses of “enormity” and “enormousness”.
Ultimately much television is about scandalizing the audience, of course, and in that context I must force myself to have no substantial problem with Killikökkitiitti. I only wish they would stop chasing wild animals and go after BBC executives instead.