Ges on the Box; You’ve had the murder, Corrie, now cheer up

IF the truth be told, we haven’t been watching a lot of telly over the past week or two, we’ve had other things to concentrate on.

Like me making an honest man of Him Indoors. Typical though, I choose the day Liam met his maker to tie the knot. Which means we didn’t get to see the dirty deed . . . there were one or two other things to do.

The trouble now, of course, is we’ve got 40 hours of recording to catch up on. Time was when you got wed you missed the soaps and serials while on honeymoon. But now there’s Sky+. The last thing I did before jumping in the limo to get to the register office was set the box to record Strictly, completely forgetting that I was going to miss Corrie.

Still, we’ve recorded “Merlin” and “The Restaurant”, the last episode of “The Guitar”, “The X Factor” and several obscure programmes Him Indoors follows like “Axemen” and “Ice Road Truckers”. They leave me cold (’scuse the pun) these tough guys’ series. Seen one tree chopped down, seen ‘em all.

But apparently not. Him Indoors confessed over a bowl of cous cous while away that he’s long harboured a secret desire to chop down trees. Or, failing that, a fisherman battling the elements. He’d even enjoy, he claims, driving big trucks over frozen lakes.

So, he got his serials recorded and I missed Liam’s hit-and-run. All I got to see was a mind-blowingly depressing couple of episodes on Monday on the spare telly in the bedroom.

Now the rings are on the gloves have come off so to speak — he banished me to the portable with the fuzzy reception to watch all the wailing and teeth-gnashing. He doesn’t do depressing. And depressing it was. It made “EastEnders” seem like a laugh-a-minute.

In fact, if they don’t do something worth smiling about tonight, I could break the habit of a lifetime and turn over while “Coronation Street” is running. Unless, of course, John decides to get rid of dozy Rosie. Now THAT would make me smile.

But, I did remember to record Strictly. Not that I needed to. There we were sitting in a coffee shop in darkest, dampest Yorkshire when the couple at the next table talked through the entire show, dance by dance.

Their predictions were Andrew Castle and John Sergeant for the dance off with Andrew the ultimate loser.

Apparently, it seems, almost dropping your dance partner isn’t indicative of poor prancing, not where the great British public is concerned anyway. And as for John — well, blatantly appealing for votes obviously worked.

At this rate, I don’t much reckon Jodie Kidd’s chances against Mark Foster.