It’s true, I don’t fancy a somewhat disembodied Richard Attenborough standing in the corner of my breakfast nook, regaling me with the mating habits of the lesser-known blue-ringed fruit bat, while I bite down on my breakfast croissant and slurp on my cup of recently ground Java. I’d far rather see him contained in a box, available on demand, at my beck and call, when convenient to me and not simply manifesting like an information spectre from some B-grade horror movie.
There’s something comforting about TV— a companion to many, a visually stimulating source of information, insight, education, music, news dissemination and entertainment, all rolled into one.
And no, there is no blue-ringed fruit bat, that I am aware of, but hey, ask Attenborough…
