My daughter loves ‘Dancing on Ice’. It is the highlight of her week. That same statement is also true of my niece E who is nearly 12, and my daughter’s best friend.
For those of you fortunate enough not to have this programme impinge upon your consciousness I should explain that it is a direct rip off of the wonderful Strictly Come Dancing (yes, I too have my television watching weakness) expect that in this case the ‘celebrities’ learn to dance (clue in the title folks) on ice.
The programme is on Sunday evening – first all the surviving skaters from the previous week dance – then the viewing public get to vote for their favourite – and then later the two pairs of skaters who have the lowest number of votes compete in the ‘Skate off’. Thus far, thus very familiar to any viewer of SCD.
Now it has not been all bad – had it not been for H’s obsession I would never have seen Todd Carty’s hilarious performance to ‘Help!’ (Now available once again on You Tube in spite of ITV’s best efforts to block it) But that apart words that spring to my mind include dire, dull, boring, tedious....you get the picture. The skaters are supposed to be celebrities, but apart from Todd Carty the only one I had ever heard of was Coleen Nolan – and that I guess pretty much sums up the standard of what passes for celebrity these days. (Reidski tells me that one of them was a former rugby league player.) H and my niece who always watch the programme together have strictly forbidden any of the rest of us to open our mouths to comment during their beloved programme. Any hint of criticism or negativity risks tears or a tantrum or both so we have learnt that discretion is the better part of smart wise cracks and we keep quiet.
I should perhaps explain that on Sunday evenings I always have my sister and niece over for dinner – along with various other family members.
And so to yesterday and (at last) the whole point of this post. For many weeks I have been exercising the skill of parental selective hearing. Teenagers are obviously the world leaders in selective hearing as in never hearing lines like ‘Please tidy your room’, but hearing the juicy bit of gossip you definitely don’t want them to hear even when whispered the other side of a ten foot brick wall from them. However, I have been a past master at the skill every time H or E has exclaimed about how desperate they are to see Dancing on Ice – Live. I have not given one tiny indication that I have heard any such wish. Dancing on Ice – Live would be without doubt My Idea of Hell.
So imagine my horror when the following scenario worked its way out last night:
1. H wants to vote for Ray but misses the advertised phone number so she goes on the website to find it.
2. Whilst on the website she comments once more upon how very, very, very much she, her friend C and E want to see Dancing On Ice – Live – and how the show is in Birmingham on E’s birthday.
3. My sister asks how much tickets are.
4. Five minutes later H is on the verge of pressing the button to confirm 4 tickets at a total price of £174.50 (FF'sS!)for her, her friend (who is almost part of our family anyway), E and my sister.
5. One second after that my sister is declaring most firmly that she is NOT taking them on her own.
6. Two minutes after that, with five and not four tickets purchased, I am drinking a remedial brandy as the terrible truth sinks in. I am going to see Dancing on Ice – Live.
What did I ever do in a past life to deserve this?
The Hamilton Hacker - Nice wee bit of sly humour from the April 1937 issue of the *Socialist Standard*.
10 hours ago