Monday, May 15, 2006

Light Entertainment on Lockdown

From the dregs of the grime barrel today comes news that those canny Australians, long known for paying perverts, rubbing their children in slime and milking dogs sexually, have taken the latex-clad dong digit of Hollywood with their latest attempt at copyright law.

Apparently our Antipodean friends are now legally only permitted to watch or listen to recorded television and radio once, before being required to delete it.

"Does this mean I can record my favourite television or radio program to enjoy later?
Yes. For the first time you will be able to record most television or radio program at home to enjoy at a later time. This will allow you to watch or listen to a program as it was made available to the public at the time of the original broadcast.
How long can I keep the recording?
The recording must be deleted after one use. It will not be possible to use the recording over and over again."


Before you retire to your sniggering room with a glass of cat milk, please take my hand as I bludgeon you with the implications. Brainbox experts have varying opinions as to the average attention span of a human adult, pegging it as anything from twenty minutes to a measly seven seconds; hardly enough at best to manage an episode of your favourite ill-advised soap opera, never mind attempting the marathon that is A Touch of Frost staring glottal wanker Sir David Jason.

Is it too much to suspect that the Australian government is being sponsored by the US Army, tasked with taking the PR apocalypse that is Guantanamo Bay and rebranding it as the ideal way to focus your entertainment-hungry mind without external distractions? With TV one-chance-or-you've-lost-it, who wants to take the risk that a wretched friend or mother might telephone at the fulcrum of your chosen drama? In such a situation, the Americans are willing to wager you'd spend a pretty penny for a total-isolation sensory deprivation experience (with complimentary popcorn).

Now I'm not the kind of gaudy, hyperbolizing schlockster who might overegg a pudding for the sake of a decent story and three kinds of Sunday veg, but don't be surprised if you see full-page ads in your Radio Times for an open ticket to the most closed of prisons sometime wretchedly soon.

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