What not to watch this Christmas

Media Matter
Nick Thomas
This time last year, I seem to remember, I was kicking against the prevailing weary cynicism of my profession regarding, if not Christmas itself, then the ritual festivities in general and television in particular, and 1 promised that this year I would find something I could be nice about in this column. Well, I've found it, and I rather wish I hadn't. But I'll hit you behind the ear with that sockful of wet sand in a moment. First let's take a glance at the TV on offer over the principal three days of Christmas. On Christmas Eve a million homes will be rent with discord, as the competing claims of The Real Beckhams (ITV 1, 9.00-10.30pm) and The Best of At Home with the Eubanks (C5, 8.35-9.35pm)are debated, possibly with blows. The only compromise solution might reside in The Hundred Greatest TV Treats of 2003 on Channel 4 at 9.00pm, though where they managed to find that number of watchable moments out of the last 12 months of dross beats me. An artificial element of suspense will be introduced by means of a countdown to The Best TV Treat Out Of The Hundred; but then again, we all know it's going to be Johnny Wilkinson's winning drop goal, so who cares?
On Christmas Day perhaps a. few thousand homes will be disrupted by the choice between Highgrove: A Prince's Legacy (3BC2, 8.30pm) and The Firebird (C4, 8.15). It's a shame the positions cannot be reversed.
In theory a year in the life of Chuck's organic, ecofriendly. bunny-hugging estate could be quite interesting, but I have a feeling that a quarter of an hour of
unctious worthiness from the Prince and from David
Attenborough's commentary would be enough to
make me switch channels happily convinced that I was missing nothing. Anyway, the Canada National Ballet, backed by the Kirov Orchestra, looks like a real treat.
At 6.00pm on Boxing Day BBC1 offers us a new adaptation of The Young Visiters, starring Jim Broadbent and Hugh Laurie, with voiceover narration by • Alan Bennett, which promises to be intelligent and stylish family entertainment, and at 9.00pm on ITV there's a new David Suchet Poirot. They're tosh, I know, but I have a soft spot for them because they're so beautifully executed.
Otherwise, though, it's pretty thin pickings out there on the terrestrial airwaves: repeats, compilations of repeats, repeated compilations of repeats, and inevitably dire comedy Christmas "specials", such as the annual clever but curiously unfunny clutch of parodies from French and Saunders, and yet another Only Fools and Horses. The special episode of My Family, which in its unspecial mode benefits from good writing performed by proper actors, is the only one I'd risk.
Oh, and then there are the films, over the screening of which by all five channels I initially rejoiced; for gone is the feast of blood and guts, of horror flicks and war epics, that disfigured the schedules of yore. The tone this year is feelgood, classic, with the odd bit of decent drama, and the body count is minimal. Hooray! I thought. Then 1 realised the reason for this bold departure from tradition, and there can, I assure you, be only one, for the old diet was anything but unpopular. It is simply that we are living with the risk of a massive terrorist outrage this Christmas, maybe abroad, maybe in our midst, and the poor mugs who will be running the stations don't want to be plunged into a comprehensive rescheduling exercise dictated by considerations of taste. Thus White Christmas, Chicken Run, My Fair Lady, Oliver!, Some Like it Hot, The Wizard of Oz, and barely a Sten gun or a living corpse to be found. Good news for the moral health of the nation, no doubt, but as small mercies go ... Anyway, Merry Christmas.