Aaahhhh, Nobbly, there speaks the voice of experience.
My TV stands precariously astride six boxes, connected through an intricate network of cables and switches I affectionately refer to as Rubik's Knot. There are at least as many remote controls strewn across the furniture, any one of which could conceivably be used to watch TV but which more often than not generates an error message as the Sky box searches for Eastenders on Panamsat. At breakfast it can be a bit of a shock over the cornflakes to switch on expecting NED1 news fro the Echostar box, only to find that the SPS1 switch has directed control to the Nokia still tuned to Taquilla-X.
Every day a new permutation of CAM and card finds its way into one or more of these boxes, and the transponder settings are edited into some vital new form. The selection of available channels is not so much a list, as a fleeting glimpse. If by accident someone stumbles upon a working channel, the keys will usually expire before the programme does.
In the bedroom a giga receiver picks up an apparently random signal from the living room and feeds it into a VCR which boots onto a differnt line and only picks up the SCART feed if a tape is first inserted. And when the dog licks its bollocks, the picture goes altogether.
There are two fixed dishes, a massive steerable dish, a terrestrial UHF arial and a high-gain diectional antenna scattered across the roof. My house looks like Joderel Bank. The neighbours worry about developing tumours.
What would REALLY impress my wife is a new hobby...
2old
