Channel 4’s Hunted: Light-hearted entertainment or insidious propaganda?

I’m not a big fan of reality television.

I dislike the way it pretends to be an unfiltered representation of ‘real life’, when everyone watching knows perfectly well that it’s about as authentic as a soap opera. I get annoyed at formulaic set ups which try to pass themselves off as uniquely exciting, and generally find the participants of these shows irritating at best.

Yet, last year I found myself tuning in week after week to a television programme containing every single one of these elements.

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Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

Radio Silence is a wonderful book that exactly captures what it feels like to be me. Or at least what it has felt like, at times.

Obviously not in every single aspect (never have I been so thankful for my school friends, with whom I have had many a serious discussion about which Harry Potter character we are), but as I eagerly devoured it I couldn’t help but find the resemblance almost uncanny.

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American Vandal- satire, silliness and style

I’ll be honest, judging from the summary- “Truth. Justice. Dicks.”-  I was slightly sceptical before I started to watch American Vandal.

I’m glad that I persevered after the first few episodes, as it fast became one of those shows when you don’t just want to watch the next episode, you need to. Urgently. Until you’ve reached the end and don’t know what to do with your life.

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The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry

I am torn and I am mended – I want everything and need nothing – I love you and I am content without you.

Even so, come quickly!”

It’s not often that I read a book which I feel like I can recommend to everyone, a book that I believe both my mother and my best friend- people who have generally disparate albeit overlapping tastes- will get something out of.

So, on the occasion that I stumble across a book of this rare and special type, like The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry, it is generally a very rare and special book indeed.

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Film Review: Dunkirk

I was slightly apprehensive going into Dunkirk. I was worried that I would feel bored as I had heard it was mostly action with barely any dialogue, that it would repeat the same war-movie clichés and exalt some kind of quasi-mythical patriotic British-ness that would totally alienate me.

I forgot these worries within the first few minutes of the film.

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Warlock Holmes: A Study in Brimstone by G.S Denning

I had just finished reading Johannes Cabal: The Fear Institute by Jonathan L. Howard and was trawling through Goodreads when I came across a review that compared Johannes Cabal and his brother Horst to Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, and it was like a cartoon lightning bolt of epiphany had struck me (I understand that I’ve alienated most of you with this sentence but trust me, it’s accurate).

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Doctor Who: The Pilot

Doctor Who used to be my favourite television programme. Every Saturday evening my dad, my sister and I would sit down in front of the TV and watch David Tennant fighting aliens on some strange alien planet or talking to William Shakespeare in Elizabethan England, and I would love each and every episode, then go into school Monday morning and discuss it with my friends during morning registration. It was a simpler time.

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