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The TV of the Future
Mike’s post on Apps for Telly inspired me to write about something I’ve been thinking about for a long time: my ideal TV of the future.
It’s pretty clear that, with a few very specific exceptions, broadcast TV will become a thing of the past very soon. Other than ‘event telly’, things that need to be watched live, such as the World Cup, the Olympics and (shudder) X Factor, I either watch shows on DVD or record them on my PVR, the excellent EyeTV for Mac.

TV as we currently understand it is broken.
Photo by Kevin SteeleThere has been so little great content on free to air broadcast TV in the last few years that I’ve lost the habit of checking the TV schedule entirely. It’s very rare that I flick the telly on and watch the least bad thing on, because there is always something I’d rather watch waiting in my queue of DVDs or recordings.
I’m not in the least bit excited by Project Canvas, mainly because I think the problem with TV is not a technical one, but rather a content one. The content problem could be solved right now, with no technology innovation at all if the will to do so existed in content companies. My worry is that the focus will now be on a grandiose technical solution to an imagined problem.
Far too many content companies view the internet as some kind of threat rather than the most exciting possible platform for them. They no longer have to bother buying expensive licences from the government to get their content to the public, and don’t need to worry about watersheds or public service remits. They can let their content do the talking rather than entering idiotic scheduling wars.
If you were starting a content business now would you opt for the heavily regulated, expensive option of starting a TV station, or would you be looking to the internet?
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It’s OK to fail
Years ago, when I was a teenager working as a summer camp counsellor, I was given a very valuable lesson in the expectation of success. (Full disclosure: I have yet to actually learn this lesson, but I’m trying. Lordy, am I trying.)
I was caring for a four-year-old whose mum had gone on an overnight trip, and as the day grew darker, my little charge became more and more anxious. I cuddled and soothed her, but nothing helped — she wanted her mum.
Her whimpers turned to full-on crying and I, agitated at the prospect of failing my job so completely, began to shush the poor kid. Obviously, this didn’t help, but I was dogged in my determination to ‘make it work’.
So I kept on. The harder she cried, the more I shushed, until the child astounded me by pausing mid-sob, staring me straight in the eye, and hollering at me with absolute righteousness,
“Don’t you know?! It’s OK to cry!!”
I was speechless. Of course it’s OK to cry — especially when you’re four. Who the hell was I to insist this kid buck up and ‘make it work’ when, clearly, it just wasn’t working? Read full post
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Great writing does not depend on the tools
Yesterday’s Observer contained an astonishingly silly article from Tim Adams, entitled Will e-books spell the end of great writing? The short answer to that is “no”, but the confusion in Adams’s mind is such that I think his article needs to be taken apart piece by piece.
He starts with a quote from the great American novelist Don DeLillo, who says that he needs to use a typewriter to produce his prose. From this, Adams seems to deduce that without typewriters we cannot have great literature.
The absurdity is there on so many levels. First off, Cervantes didn’t have a typewriter, and DeLillo’s typewritten novels will work well enough on an e-reader. The medium used to create the text is of no relevance to the medium used to read the text, surely that’s obvious? DeLillo’s great contemporary, Philip Roth, writes standing up at a computer. Jeffrey Archer uses the same type of pen for every word he writes. You can’t tell me that if Roth swapped to the PaperMate, he’d start writing the kind of drivel Archer churns out, or that if DeLillo was somehow forcibly deprived of his typewriter that he’d stop writing.





For years, DIY was the bastion of the weekend jobbing dad. Men would buy tool belts, low-quality hand drills and set about putting up shelves, bleeding radiators or hanging pictures. And their bible was the Reader’s Digest Complete Do-it-yourself Manual. The appeal of DIY is really the time when you’re NOT doing DIY and you look at the thing you did and think “I did that, all by myself”. There’s immense pride in DIY. And the pride can be totally disproportionate to the effort you put in. You can bang a nail into your bathroom wall with a shoe and still feel pretty pleased with yourself when you look up at that
You’re working on a popular supermarket brand of processed meat. You’re in a brainstorm. It’s late, the client’s pushing hard for ideas. He’s got pizza and beers in. The ideas have been flowing freely but they’re starting to run dry. The brief is tight, you’ve got to come up with a way of “extending the customer’s relationship with the product”. You’ve gone through your entire inventory of stock ideas, you’ve talked about the innovation of Nike+, you’ve pushed the community angle, you’ve talked viral and you even pulled out the old ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ concept. Still nothing is setting the room on fire. You take a bite out of the pizza and the idea hits you like a silver bullet to the brain.
BOOYAH!! The wordplay is perfect, it hits the right demographic and the product is the main star. Then it hits you again,