So Matthew Perry died.
So probably did thousands of others on the planet. Yet the meeja has recoiled in horror. Three days later he is still in the news, all because of that programme “Friends”.
I’m not a great fan of comedy on television. There have been some good ones in the past – Fawlty Towers, Open All Hours, the early Last of the Summer Wine and a few others, but frankly American comedy leaves me stone cold.
Overacting, waving arms around and worst of all, canned laughter make me recoil in horror and make me frantically reach for the remote control. Canned laughter is probably the greatest offender. If I have to be told when to laugh then it very probably is not funny.
Way back when, in my RTE days I always knew when “Friends” had been on. There was a colleague in my office who was a very nice friendly girl. She had one major fault though – she was a fan of “Friends”! She would therefore regale us with virtually the entire episode’s script telling us how uproariously funny each character was. This usually happened during coffee break in the canteen and you could see the glazed look appear in everyone’s eyes around the table. Judging by the reactions, she was the only fan of the programme in the office.
People act surprised when I say I’m not a fan of “Father Ted”. “Mrs Brown’s Boys” and its derivations is another programme that makes me want to stab myself in the eyes. I am utterly baffled by its popularity.
But bottom of the heap is “Friends”. Doubtless they will run repeats of the series now, riding on the aftermath of Perry’s death.
I shall keep the remote control to hand.