Given the state of Dorset's domestic and international politics, anyone could be forgiven for looking for reasons to get away from it all by whatever means available. Fortunately, November coincides with the airing of thrupiecetv's annual classic "I'm A Fading Star, Find Me A Way To Get Back Into Television" which enables a number of people you have almost certainly forgotten existed and quite possibly thought dead to invade your homes on a nightly basis whilst they escape the tedium of late Autumn in Melbury Abbas. Filmed in a fake jungle just outside Fontmell Magna, the chosen participants are, for the price of the odd strange meal, guaranteed isolation from the outside world and are thus spared the depressing stream of so-called news about the "real" world, or as the political scientists would have it, "the realpolitik of the public sphere" which the rest of us are forced to endure as the ultimate penalty for buying a license. Nothing else could possibly explain the programme's otherwise unfathomable popularity amongst those you hoped might know better. [As a wise man once wrote "Eating ostrich's bumhole bring much attention but poor choice for man with halitosis"].
Not so lucky, however, the hapless viewer who might count him or herself [Careful [Ed]] fortunate had they never gone digital and so been spared the "steaming pile of crap" which streams its way into our homes through sinister smart devices of every size and description, not least the worldwide interweb. [Who would have thought that 001001001001001111110000101010111100100011101010101000010100100010100 or 000000010101110101010100010111100101010000111101010100 could bring so much misery to so many? [Ed]]. He or she, rather, has to content him or herself with a few hours of vicarious escapism as he or she watches his or her favourite "celebrity" go through his or her jungle motions [and that of any other contestant/living creature] in the programmes ill-advised "faecal-tucker trial"]. ["The difference between watching shit and eating shit, whilst significant, sometimes seems marginal compared to watching Robert Robinson in his Prime" [Mary Whitebone  Watching the Box The Threadbone Press].]
Hotly tipped to join this year's cast are in-trouble Chief Conductor of the Thrupiece Philharmonic Orchestra Ms Irina Legova [said to be on extended leave], husband and wife team Ray and Brenda Oats [a jungle first] and former back-bencher and recently sprung MP Dai Lemma. The now traditional rumour that a certain MS S-LS would be joining the group were soon quashed by tv executives. Sparks are expected to fly as charismatic but febrile Ms Legova who [for contractual reasons surrounding image rights] will be appearing in black and white goes head to head with Mrs Oats - a woman who, according to her husband, "has put on a bit of timber" and "isn't to be trifled with especially when hungry".