‘Please, please, do not touch the Sky cables.’ That was my unequivocal instruction to the builder as he set about repainting my living room. My furniture was piled in the centre of the floor covered with dustsheets. But poking out from the dust sheets were the wires coming from the TV, still connected to the Sky box, from which a long line of white cable wended its way to the wall.
‘But you can reconnect them,’ he tried to reason with me. ‘You can pull the wires out and put them back in.’ I told him to get a grip of himself. This was crazy talk. Once you mess with Sky cables, you are on the road to perdition.
Yes, of course, disconnecting the television ought to be a simple matter. I can certainly remember that when I was a child we unplugged the telly often and with gay abandon.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in