In which I watch UK TV to take my mind off things

So this morning, to get away from it all, I watched the BBC (it was 7:30 pm in England) and they'd given up on the news for one of those cute-puppy-can-bark-national-anthem-underwater type shows. We've just had a man I don't recognize talking about catching fish and being asked to recognize celebrities with last names that recall fish -example: Nicola Sturgeon, an autobiographical film on Gilbert O'Sullivan's first piano, an extremely enthusiastic Sikh man with an impenetrable Scottish accent talking about star cooks and what might have been some kind of cooking competition, and suddenly we're listening to DJ Pete Tong, Jules Buckley (?) and the Heritage Orchestra, giant glockenspiel to the fore, accompanied by what appears to be a cast of a thousand ravers, belting out house music versions of Fat Boy Slim's Right Here, Right Now and Whosit's Insomnia.

Trump features not.

The BBC's London has never looked more European, that sort of Romanian ambiance of very white people[1] playing Chicago dance music with wild abandon, and celebrating fishermen and food.

Shame England's decided to leave Europe. One non-fish related politician a couple of days ago came back with assurances that Trump would look favorably on the tiny rudderless kingdom, but Trump's speech today rather emphasized he's not going to give an inch in trade deals - it's America first all the way. I suppose England could file to become a suburb of Chicago, or Detroit, I forget which type of House Music these two are. 

Then I watched Room 101 and it featured a horse playing a recorder with one nostril (fingering supplied by a handy human) which struck me as hilarious. There was also that guy with the floppy hair that's on all these things - David Mitchell(?) managing to sound British and indignant over things like being thought a lesser person because you couldn't remember the names of the people you were talking to. I read the reviews for Room 101 and they all said it was tired, and dire. I guess my laughter threshold is pretty low today. 

Mood wasn't helped by either episode of East Enders (there's two a day? and it's still going? and it still has Dot Cotton?) which was so unrelentingly grim I felt a compunction to put them all out of their misery, but I didn't have any anthrax handy. 

[1] The Sikh guy is the exception that proves the rule.