Thursday, 13 February 2014

Hardcore Living

Recently a BBC researcher contacted me and asked if the family would be willing to be filmed for a series on vicarage life. Obviously, narcissism urged me to say yes. I could be the next Amy Childs, only in an M&S cardie. The church teas on Fridays would be seething with fans wanting to bond with the Vicar over a Jammy Dodger. And watching the episodes would keep me going through the suspenseful wait for the next series of Rev. Indeed, said the researcher, a real-life Rev is what they are after. A heart-warming, fun-filled glimpse into family life in a vicarage to follow Songs of Praise.  It was at that point I knew we had to say no. Any fly-on-the-wall portrait of our vicarage life would have to be shown after the 9pm watershed to protect the nation's children. I myself would find it hard to stomach:

Graphic footage of me wrestling my chin bristles with deadly steel weaponry in the bathroom and, sheathed in rubber, delving for the plastic Smurf someone's dropped down the lavatory.



The shaming intemperance when come 5pm I can't hold out any more and fall upon my stash of PG Tips.



The terror when the grill pan bursts into flames after I try greaseproof paper as a substitute lining for foil.


The psychotic mood swings, when, tucking my babes up for the night, I glimpse the state of their bedrooms.



The raw expose of mid-life marriage as the Vicar and I masticate side by side on a wedge of Cathedral City while watching re-runs of Foyle's War under his 'n' hers sofa rugs.



The chilling suspense as, with five minutes to go before school drop off, I'm still hunting down my son's left shoe.

The wanton child cruelty as I confiscate my sobbing daughter's iPod Touch for the third time in a week.

The ungodly indecorum when, at 9am on the Sabbath, I realise I'm on the rota to explain decapitation to flock of Sunday School toddlers.

The undignified lack of self-control when, at 10pm, the Vicar and I can no longer suppress the urgency of our need and head for bed with Sophie Kinsella.




Is your family life fit for public viewing?






16 comments:

  1. Love this! And absolutely not! Way too much shouting at the kids goes on.

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  2. It would be better than the Vicar of Dibley, you should have said yes, I'd watch.

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    Replies
    1. Well of course you would. So would I! But at grave cost to my dignity and pious reputation.

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  3. If you have an urge to reveal more of yourself, forget the BBC. I've tagged you in a tag on my blog.

    And you retain editorial control, which must be a plus that the BBC can't offer you.

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    Replies
    1. My word, thank you. Hope I can keep my thermal vest on.

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  4. I could never compete with your glamorous, racy lifestyle so I guess we're not volunteering for tv. Seriously though, isn't life all about showing those snotty girls at school (who you've not seen for 30 years) that your life has turned out so much batter than any of theirs? :P

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  5. Hilarious! So what was the real reason??? Haha

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  7. No, my family life would only be viewing for the very, very brave.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Just discovered your blog via 3 Children and It and thoroughly enjoying your 'laugh outloud' posts! I can't think of anything worse than media exposure of our family. Like you it would definitely be post watershed viewing with health warnings and 'Don't try this at home' advice! Helen

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for popping round and even more for troubling to comment.

      Delete