I had a further phone call from the offices of TV’s Jeremy Kyle show today. Apparently I have been bothering them regularly with demands to go on about my sister’s secret drugs shame. Having advised them (again) that this was nothing to do with me nor my sister, and that I have never contacted them , have no desire to contact them, and find their programme ethically problematic they said that I had obviously phoned them because their system told them I’d phoned them and it doesn’t make mistakes. After some time it was agreed that they would go away and stop bothering me.
To the disappointment of no-one I am therefore not going to appear on Jeremy Kyle weeping into the shoulder of some helper off stage while Kyle decries a close relative that he has placed on the verge of an emotional breakdown and is accused by Kyle of having torn the family apart.
The last I saw of the obnoxious little man was a glimpse of a repeat on ITV2 (I love marking) where some toothless wonder who looked like he’d walked off the set of Deliverance had just put his head in his hands above a caption reading, “If that baby’s black I’ll know you’ve been cheating on me” (which makes a change from the endless diet of lie detector tests, I suppose).