A loophole for comedy, and therefore a noose for quality. Laughter tracks sound little more than a half-hearted apology from a writer who has chosen a paycheque over a credible legacy.
They should not be discredited altogether, as there is valid argument for them: they add a lightness to many sitcoms, with which the genuine comedy of a script is able to play. After all, I do not mean to throw these shows on a cold slab and dissect the inner workings of their humour. However, the real tragedy comes from when these programmes begin to substitute real-life chuckles for the slightly sinister alternative of canned laughter.
One quick Google of the Big Bang Theory opens up a dangerous wormhole of flat lines and awkwardness. The function of these ghoulish giggles is different in shows like this. Rather than drawing from jokes themselves, they instead highlight the fact that these occasionally strange comments are intended to actually BE jokes. Surely comedy should be able stand up without them.
Ever since coming out as gay, it seems Phillip Schofield has been met with endless questions. Why did he wait so long to come out? Did he know that he was gay when he married a woman? How do his family feel?
Obviously, someone announcing that they are gay after 27 years of seemingly happy, heterosexual marriage comes as a big surprise. However, it also takes courage, especially for someone in the public eye. Standing up and making such a big, unexpected announcement is tough. This is particularly true in this day and age, when someone’s every move can be scrutinised on social media. Luckily for Philip, it seems most people responded to the news kindly. However, he had still no idea that this would be the case when he chose to share it. He had simply decided that now was the time to live his truth, and that is a sentiment we can all appreciate.
I used to love getting drunk. I did it every weekend, dancing until 5am, sleeping all day. During Freshers, it reached a new level. Every night a new club, new drinks, new one-night stands, a bigger debit card bill. Constant hangovers, replacing drunkenness, replacing hangovers.
But now it feels different. Sure, the Arctic Monkeys comes on and I dance like a freak, and sure, I’ll get nice and tipsy now and then, and feel great. But the rest of it’s just boring.
I wake up dehydrated, hungry, tired, and stinking of booze. And worst of all, full of regrets. All I seem to do on a night out is make mistakes, and they always end up coming back to haunt me. Sometimes, I’d rather just lie in bed alone, or cuddle up with my girlfriend in front of the TV, and save myself the trouble.
Then again, I’ll still put myself through it, all over again.
Last modified: 18th February 2020