By Andy Simpson, Daily Sceptic. (Photo: DEAD GOOD LEGACIES/Unsplash)
A confession: I’ve now reached an age where Talking Pictures TV has a strange allure. The independent channel, dedicated to rerunning old films and TV programmes free from the constant proselytising of much of contemporary television, is grist to my increasingly greying and wrinkled mill.
There are many joys here: crime dramas such as The Saint and Maigret hark back to a time of narratives uncomplicated by political agendas; The Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club offers tobacco-hazed variety acts that would make modern day producers blush, whilst a whole swathe of black and white classic films remind one of a golden age of story telling. I’m happy to admit that I’ve found my televisual tribe.
Not surprisingly, the ad breaks, targeting a viewership closer to centurion than teenager, feature mobility scooters, orthopaedic mattresses, walk-in baths and Dentafix, all flogged by elderly actors who ironically still boast their own teeth. They are strangely charming, providing a gentle prod about my own mortality, but it is the omnipresent funeral advertisements where things become more sinister.
If you’re of a younger mien, you might not have noticed the cultural shift in recent years to persuade us that funerals should be “no fuss”, “affordable” and “burden free” for those who remain after your sad demise. Long gone are the days when your send-off was arranged through a local director with a sturdy name like Arthur Cavendish Esq., who, with a suitably grave and ingratiating manner, would guide a family towards the dignified mahogany, brass, Bentley and flora of a splendid “do”. Instead, we’re encouraged to do it “your way”, although whether “your” refers to the wishes of the deceased or tight-fisted relatives is not clear.
Images of “eco-friendly” wicker coffins promise an end-of-life atonement for a lifetime of rapacious consumption, but the idea of being popped into a fraying laundry hamper doesn’t sit right with me.