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<UID>
9501250501
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
950709
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, July 09, 1995
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1F
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

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<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1995, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
BRITISH TV CAN GET ANYONE OFF THE BOIL
</HEADLINE>
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LONDON --  Last week at Wimbledon, American Pete Sampras caused a stir
when he said there was "nothing to watch" on British television. Bloody hell!
The Brits went bonkers! At least the Brits who  weren't watching TV. Those who
were, naturally, were sound asleep.

  Sampras was not completely correct. There is, in fact, something to watch
on British TV -- but that something usually involves the  beetle and its
mating habits.

  I am not kidding. You can randomly enter any British hotel room, flick on
the TV, and have a pretty good chance at: 1) A documentary on bugs. 2) A
documentary on shellfish.  3) Cricket, which, historians will tell you, is
what sports were all about, before man began moving around.
  The problem -- at least it's a problem if you're an American athlete,
teenager, or Larry  King --  is that there are only four TV stations here. And
they do not include ESPN, CNN, or (ohmigod, how do they exist?) MTV.
  The four basic stations here are, based on my research, 1) BBC1, 2)  BBC2,
3) the other station 4) Cricket. Pretty much any time of day, any day of the
year, you can find a cricket match, which is like a baseball game only -- this
is hard to believe -- longer and slower.
  Cricket involves men dressed for Sunday brunch, standing around a large
field, waiting for a batter to get hit by a ball. This can take, on average,
three or four months, during which time the players  adjust their collars and
chat. ("So, Nigel, did you watch telly last night?" "Yes, 'The Secret Life of
Grasshoppers.' " "Smashing, wasn't it? Especially the mating habits. . .")
  I'm sorry. I know  it is chic to like cricket. But most athletes I know
would hear  of a  sport in which players actually eat sandwiches on the field,
and they would bust up laughing. Except maybe Cecil Fielder, who would  say,
"What kinda sandwiches?"
Why change channels?
  The other day, I was watching Wimbledon on BBC1  when Andre Agassi hit a
mean shot past Boris Becker and Becker screamed and shook his fists.  And the
BBC announcer, barely above a whisper, said, "Goodness. He seems to be a bit
off the boil at the moment."
  This is not the kind of thing Dick Vitale or John Madden might say. But
then, BBC1  and BBC2 are not in the business of creating over-hyped,
over-volumed, egotistical announcers. Because -- get this -- BBC1 and BBC2 are
owned by the government, which is already full of people like that.
  Can you imagine if American networks were run by  the government? ("Coming
up next, Newt Gingrich's home movies, followed by 'Baywatch,' starring Ted
Kennedy!")
  Yet, amazingly enough, while the  Brits still can't make the tube worth
watching, they do have . . . remote control! For visiting Americans, this
means the most exercise they will get all trip, clicking the remote for hours,
desperate  to find something worth watching, like "Who's the Boss?"
  Alas, they keep rolling through the same four British channels, over and
over. Which sounds like this:
BBC1:  ". . .meanwhile, the queen  bee, upon selecting her mate. . ."
 BBC2: ". . .as the pagans, of the 4th Century, descended upon Lord
Chastenburry. . ."
 CH3: ". . .another member of Parliament faces a sticky situation after a
woman  dressed in a lamp shade was discovered in his car. . ."
CH4: ". . .the players eat the sandwiches. . ."
BBC1: ". . .leaving the male bee for dead. . ."
 BBC2: ". . .Troths and misigoths. . ."
 CH3:  ". . .insisted he doesn't like 
lampshades--"
CH4: ". . .the replay on those sandwiches--"
  Did I mention the newscasts?
Newscasts without the Big Picture
  TV news here is remarkably normal.  Meaning, the newscasters actually
pronounce names correctly and don't look like game show hosts. They also don't
have "happy talk" between anchors, although that might be fun.
  ANCHOR 1: And now to  sports. Trevor, I heard Boris Becker was a bit off
the boil this afternoon.
  SPORTS GUY: Ha, indeed, Ian!
  ANCHOR 1: Smashing. Thank you, Trevor.
  Maybe the biggest difference news-wise is the  weather forecasts, which do
not employ Doppler, or the Big Picture, or whatever half-million-dollar device
you can buy these days to make viewers dizzy.
  Weather here is the last thing before the  stations sign off at night --
yes, they actually sign off! -- and it's intoned by a man who truly enjoys
reading weather maps. Unfortunately, he has to cover the whole country in one
shot.
  WEATHERMAN:  Tomorrow's weather shall be fine, with a fair bit of moisture
on the plains of Glastonberry, and south to Dutchenshire, on then to North
South Wales, Winchestire, Palm, King Henry, crumpets, tea, and  Yorkshire as
in pudding. Thank you, Jasper, and do have a pleasant evening."
  By this point, however, everyone is asleep. Including Pete Sampras.
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