Mum likes nothing more than to turn the television volume up to the highest setting and put the subtitles on at the same time. She says the actors mumble. I say she’s going deaf.
When SS-GB (BBC One, Sundays) premiered on Sunday night, I decided to take a stand. The show started, Mum reached for the subtitles button. I grabbed the remote from her. “Don’t you dare!”
I said. “Just for once – for once – I’d like to watch a TV show without feeling like I’m reading the script at the same time.”
Triumphant, I stuffed the remote down the side of the settee and settled back to enjoy the show.
The only thing was that the actors were talking very, very quietly. Almost … mumbling. I couldn’t admit that I was wrong, so I put a happy face on it. Smiled where I thought I was supposed to smile; frowned when it looked like the actors were in trouble. I even laughed a couple of times – at what I don’t know. I observed Mum out of the corner of my eye. She didn’t move a muscle.
We watched this silent movie to its bitter end – and when it was over, I flicked off the TV and said: “Well, that was good.” And Mum said nothing. She knew. She knew I had absolutely no idea what the hell it was all about.
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