I don’t care if the football’s on, we’ll have to watch whatever the TV wants us toSOMETHING FOR THE WEEKEND, SIR? My television wants me dead. It’s doing this by playing dead itself. Only one of us will get out of this alive. The remote control isn’t working, you see. And now the TV set is having a private little chuckle at my expense behind its resolutely blank screen as I grope blindly behind the fascia edges hoping to locate an elusive power button. Why can’t I find the bastard thing? Surely there must be a…? Or did I...