The first political party conference of the season and British TV.

 The first party political party conference of the season and British TV

You can always tell when autumn has arrived. It's that first party political conference of the year and we all begin to think of the entertainment value associated with British TV. In other words, what's on the box this autumn and winter. As a kid, it was always that moment when the TV Times listings magazine would find its way into the home of your wonderful mum and dad and brother. It was a soothing and comforting feeling because, without this essential piece of literature, we would never have known what to look forward to watching in that week's viewing.

Every Wednesday mum would unfailingly scan a vast multitude of programmes, documentaries, plays, sitcoms, comedy specials, soap operas, hard hitting news, shocking investigations into the sleazy world of politics and corruption while, of course, there were the people who mattered most. These were the actors and actresses, former music hall comics who had now been transferred to the little box in the corner of our living room. 

There were all action films, period dramas, compelling plays about social upheaval, domestic bliss and disagreement, family rows, punch ups, bust ups, explosions, delightful car chases and cop programmes that highlighted the inherent violence and all that pent up aggression which exploded on a forgettable August Bank Holiday weekend in Brighton during the 1960s when the mods met the rockers and the rest is history. 

But now, by the seaside once again, the Liberal Democrats Lib Dems, as they're affectionately known in political circles, have dug their first spade into the sand and then filled up their buckets with the just the right amount of water. Yes folks, the Lib Dems leader Ed Davy has arrived on the sprawling promenades and esplanades of Bournemouth, full of fun, frivolity, general silliness, good humoured pranks and the most electric smile on his face. Davy, of course, is a proper politician and therefore never to be taken at all seriously. And the court jester was it again, marching with a jolly brass band and throwing his baton into the air rather like an American football cheerleader who'd probably eaten far too much popcorn. 

You simply know when government and shadow ministers are in town. Huge groups of party disciples wander along streets and roads, gleefully thrusting posters and newsletters into the hands of the public, full of crusading zeal. There they go, grandstanding, showboating, freely dispensing glad tidings and foolish antics that somehow defy description. In a matter of seconds, they've preached to the converted, becoming accomplished propagandists, schmoozers, utterly persuasive voices and, for some, just a pain in the neck. 

Meanwhile at home, the good folk of the United Kingdom will settle down to the TV, the goggle box, the one piece of furniture in our homes that just seems to sit haughtily in the corner of our living room like some Victorian duke ready to play the piano in a classical concert recital. Now of course TV remains perhaps surplus to our requirements because the 21st century has given us Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney plus, Apple TV and Now TV. 

If we do get bored with TV, we can always switch on our devices, bring up our screens, plugging into a wide variety of Smart Phones, I phones, Tablets and of course the unmistakable mobile phones which are so much of an urgent fashion accessory that we'd probably be lost without one. But the TV landscape is pretty timeless. A surge of electricity powers its way into millions of homes during the winter and all of those household favourites flash and flicker like a hundred gaming rooms or amusement arcades. 

During the summer, TV seems to go to sleep, wrapping itself in a blanket of hibernation, studios, now more or less, empty and deserted because nothing of any real note, seems to happen. All of the shows, comedies, quiz shows, arresting detective murder mystery series and fascinating nature programmes combine with cricket, tennis and the dizzying array of summer sports and celebrity- driven reality telly that both infuriates and delights in equal measure.

In the old days, some of us had to prepare ourselves for just two channels and very few alternatives that were both appealing and pleasing. Sometime in the first couple of weeks of September when most of us were hurled wildly back into the world of school and academia, the BBC lit up our eyes like an imposing chandelier. It was a Saturday evening and the late Sir Bruce Forsyth introduced us to a game show that had been imported from Dutch TV called the Generation Game. 

Now if memory serves you correctly, the Generation Game would never appear at the height of summer because the assumption was that every home across Britain would be busy enjoying itself on holidays, family barbecues and just drinking leisurely glasses of alcohol outside pub gardens. What had probably happened was that the Generation Game was probably recorded when the first springtime cuckoos and tulips would have first made their first uplifting presence felt. 

Roll forward to this current Saturday evening TV schedule. Saturday evening is now dominated by a fabulous fandango of flamboyance. Strictly Come Dancing is the modern adaptation of the 1960s Come Dancing, that strict, regimented and orderly BBC One national treasure. Here, men in very smart and sartorially correct shirt, bow tie and tails would be swept away imperiously by an equally as dapper woman with flowing taffeta or organza dress. The cynics called Come Dancing stuffy and conservative, maybe a tad too straight laced and disciplined. There was Angela Rippon, the famous female newsreader, Peter West, cricket commentator par excellence and the late but much loved Terry Wogan, all presenters of the highest stature. 

And so we make the adjustment to the winter TV line ups, a fusion of the bizarre and brilliant, the sublime and ridiculous. But these are like cosy roaring log fires that keep us company along with your family and of course, your adorable dog who loves to curl up on your sofa and doze dreamily. Here we are rapidly approaching the end of September and October just can't wait to come out and play. Brace yourself because it could be a visual picnic of familiarity. We've seen them before and we'll never tire of them because that's the way it's always been and how we welcome the glittering jewels of British TV.

Before you know it, we'll be bombarded with yet another clutch of supermarket campaigns ready to remind us of the inevitable turkeys, boxes of chocolates, biscuits and then back on TV, slushy American Christmas related films on Christmas TV. Then there's just a glut of glitz, glamour and masses of festive merchandise, all those goodies that were somehow designed to be made available during the middle of October. Isn't British TV wonderful?