I discussed the food situation with my mam. ‘What should we get, Mam? I’ve had no tea. I mean Dad’s saying he’s not hungry, but he will be when he sees us eating so let’s get a few bits.’
My mam agreed and turned to Karen. ‘Karen, can we just get some bits to nibble on, like humous, crackers, even a bit of cheese if there is some, please? Thanks so much.’
The episode of Downton Abbey had finished (the one where Lord Grantham projectile vomits all over the place like a scene from Saw) and the door went. Yes, it was Karen, I could hear the rustling of the carrier bag. As we walked into the kitchen, stomachs rumbling all ready for our tea (northern for ‘dinner’), we could not believe our eyes.
‘I couldn’t quite remember what you asked for so I just got some bits I assumed you would like,’ announced Karen. There laid out on the table were four sausage rolls, a packet of Scotch eggs, pease pudding and a massive pork pie. She may as well have thrown a few stotties and a crate of Newcastle Brown Ale in for luck. I mean if we were Irish would she have just assumed we wanted four jacket potatoes and a tin of Guinness each?
To be fair, if that happened to another family they probably wouldn’t find it funny. But as a family with a warped sense of humour we often find that we are the only ones laughing. In fact, we often wouldn’t make the cut of the show because of our inappropriate laughter. I remember when we all had to watch Titanic and the crew were like, ‘You are not going to make the cut, stop giggling.’ It is the scene where Rose is sprawled out, spread-eagled on the huge floating door and Jack is there, freezing his tits off with blue lips, God bless him. We couldn’t stop laughing at the fact it was so obvious he could have fitted on the door with her. I get that he had to die as that was the plot but if the dude’s got to sink at least make it believable and have her lying on a tiny door, maybe a wardrobe door.
Also if it’s something that is meant to be serious like a documentary, me and my family just somehow completely miss the point and find something inappropriate about it. I remember we watched this programme about this man who loves watches and clocks. He has hundreds of clocks in his house. It was meant to be a really serious piece of television, and my dad was chatting about the timepieces and the mechanics of a watch and stuff, while my mam and I were just giggling the whole way through whilst trying to keep our eyes open. ‘Jesus Christ, who has over a hundred clocks in one house?’ my mam gasped.
‘What happens when it strikes midnight in his house? It’s going to be like Mary Poppins. His whole house is going to shake.’
Every time he would pick up a clock and touch it, I’d be like, ‘Look at him stroking that clock!’
My mam would be crying with laughter. ‘Behave!’
‘Mam, the future, the present and the past walked into a bar. Things got a little tense.’
Meanwhile, the whole of mine and me mother’s conversation would be going right over my dad’s head.
Now it was always that way, me and my mam versus my dad, but then Ava decided she also wanted to film and it was then Mam, Dad and Ava versus me. ‘What you watching for tonight’s Gogglebox, Scar?’ Ava asked one day with a cheeky grin. I knew straight away (it’s the sisterly bond) just what she was thinking.
‘Yay, you want to film with us, don’t you?’ I questioned. I was so excited. Ava is literally the funniest human being I know (despite still being at primary school); her wit and sarcasm is on point. She is like the lovechild of Stephen Fry and Ricky Gervais. I couldn’t wait to film with her. As she was only eight when we started filming we gave her the option of whether she wanted to be involved each time. We didn’t freeze her and defrost her when needed like they do with the children in soaps, she simply hung out with the film crew in the dining room or watched a movie, then an hour into filming it would be her bedtime.
‘As long as you don’t show me up by saying something stupid, Scar, I will do Gogglebox,’ Ava replied. I agreed reluctantly that I wouldn’t wind her up.
We started filming with a news item all about added sugar. Now I was honest and I openly admitted, ‘I genuinely thought that “no added sugar” meant that there was like not a lot of sugar in the food at all.’ I had the usual reaction of defeated sighs and an eye roll from my mam and dad before Ava kindly showed me up in front of the UK by delivering this perfect response: ‘Scarlett, I’m a nine-year-old and even I know that, and you’re twenty-five. Sort it out.’
Understandably, I didn’t comment back or try and outdo her on her sassy comeback, I did the only thing I could do – accept defeat from a nine-year-old.
But it’s stuff like nine-year-olds out-sassing sisters that makes the show so real. I feel the reason why Gogglebox got really popular was because it was reflecting the experiences of the people who were watching it. People were saying, ‘They are just like us. They are watching telly on their sofas and commenting on it, just like we do.’
But what’s lovely is because the show is so relatable, everyone who sees us in real life knows we are just normal approachable people. It’s not like
