My week of iPlayer and relaxation

Went to Oxford for a writing course. Stayed for the TV licence.

I finally can contribute to conversations about the ending of Normal People and Fleabag

“The TV only comes with streaming channels,” Ella, the girl from the agency from which I’m renting the house says, pointing the remote control to a flat screen I briefly catch my reflection on before everything turns into a self-contained Piccadilly Circus and garish logos. “Have a look later on, there are quite a few,” and hands over the remote control.

“I wasn't expecting a TV,” I say feeling the unfamiliar weight of the control in my hand.

“Well, here in England most people own a TV.”

For some reason she’s now separating the words very slowly as if all of a sudden I had come from a god-forsaken land where neither English nor TV sets exist, instead of London, which I mentioned 5 minutes ago when we met outside the house for her to hand over the keys and she asked me where I had travelled from.

“I know,” I reply stretching the sound of two one-syllable words as much as I can. “But watching iPlayer¹ is going to be the highlight of my stay.”

“There's also Amazon and Netflix, you’re not a slave of the BBC, you know?”, something in Ella’s tone tells me she thinks I’m taking the piss when I haven’t being more serious about anything in my life since 2003, the year I decided to do an Erasmus in Italy despite I didn’t speak the language and that my degree was in English.

“No, I know, but it has to be iPlayer, really.”

“You’re spoilt for choice. I mean, it’s not as if you don’t have options” and stopping herself for a second she adds “This is a free country, ahaha” and she delivers this last line as if on top of TV sets and English, free will was something I had never heard of before setting foot in this little rental house in Oxford. Ella’s attitude is making me wonder if the Rhodes building on the main street, where a statue of Cecil Rhodes still presides despite much controversy, slowly turns people in this city into little imperialists that feel entitled to patronise those with an accent and different ways of living.

“Yes, I heard you right the first time you mentioned the other streaming channels, but it has to be iPlayer.”

“Honestly you can watch the BBC anytime. If I were you, I’d make the most of… ”

“But you’re not me, are you, Ella?,” I interrupt her a bit tired of her thickness. “It can only be iPlayer. I hope I don’t have to repeat it again.”

“Are you feeling alright?,” Ella asks as she moves slowly backwards towards the door. This seems a bit odd until I realise I have been moving towards her while holding the remote in one hand and smacking it to the other as I kept talking to her.

I could of course defuse the sudden awkwardness of this situation by explaining that I haven’t owned a TV set in the past eight years and therefore I am actually excited to have the opportunity to watch iPlayer.

I could add that in the truly free country I come from (and where I’m sure Ella spends her holidays because when the awful British summer arrives every British person seems intent on reviving the imperial dream by conquering Spain’s seaside towns) people are not expected to pay a tax to watch public television and therefore I refuse to pay for a tv licence out of principle.

I could mention that neo-liberal economies will have people believe that it is not only necessary, but a moral duty to pay to have access to public television with the excuse of ensuring the quality of the national broadcast channel.

I could even make a joke and say that while The Great British Bake-Off has gone to Channel 4, the Great BBC Rip-Off is renewed season after season.

Something tells me this impassioned speech about the flaws of capitalism will do little to improve the situation. Ella leaves convinced that I must be deranged, a far more plausible explanation than the fact that I don’t own either TV set or a tv licence like normal people do. But I didn’t want to make things harder for her. When she gets back to the office it’s easier to say, “You won’t believe what a fucking weirdo is renting the house” than “You won’t believe what a strong-principled, educated woman has convinced me to free myself from the chains of capitalism and the enslavement of the materialistic society we live in.” The last time someone said these words out loud with conviction and was taken seriously, Marx was still alive. Tougher crowd these days.

The pedestal of moral virtue where I stand it’s not so high that if presented with the chance to enjoy for free something I would usually have to pay for, I won’t jump at it. Especially when there are two TVs in the house, one downstairs in the kitchen/living room and one upstairs in the bedroom.

Once I’m alone, I waste no time and start going through iPlayer and what’s on offer. As I can’t fit years of shows I’ve missed in the span of 10 days, I have to be strategic. With a determination and focus I lack in far more pressing areas of my life, I design a schedule detailing which shows, in which order and how many episodes per day I can watch to maximise this opportunity to experience how the other half lives.

Because I’ve always lived on properties that were on one level, it’s a bit challenging navigating my way around this house. I’m constantly going up and down as I keep forgetting things, or having bodily needs, in the wrong floor. I now get why people use the expression “climbing the property ladder”: I certainly feel like I’ve gone up half the Everest in the three days I’ve spent in the house. The thought of having both TVs on with different shows playing upstairs and downstairs crosses my mind as I could tackle my ambitious schedule faster. Common sense prevails and I rule this idea out as I already have quite a lot on as it is doing my first 8k peak.

As days go by I finally understand why people were so heartbroken about Fleabag and the Hot Priest. In the dark of the night, in the loneliness of this rental house with two TV sets and one set of killing stairs that would challenge the most experienced sherpa, I feel fully seen in the perfectly written and even better delivered inappropriate jokes and existential dread of Phoebe Waller-Bridge. For I too would trade five years of my life for the so-called perfect body without blinking.

And although after Conversations with Friends I swore never again to read or watch anything by Sally Rooney, Normal People is also on iPlayer. This is the show that catapulted Paul Mescal as an actor and since I’ve come to love him in other films², it’d be a shame not to watch his breakthrough television role. Even though this means that, being an adaptation from Sally Rooney, I’ll have to brace myself for a string of unnerving emotional cripples.

This is a wild card on my to-watch list, so I have to consider whether lifting my veto on Sally Rooney would sidetrack me. In the meantime, I move on to the next show on my list: This is Going To Hurt with Ben Whishaw, who is becoming a favourite actor after I saw him in the adaptation of Bluets at The Royal Court a few weeks ago. The show is based on the experiences of Adam Kay, a junior doctor at the NHS during the early 2000s, and reflects the spiral of crisis the NHS has been sucked into over the past decades. One cannot stop wondering how medical staff manage to do any work or care for patients in an a systemically underfunded, under-resourced organisation and I can only feel my utmost admiration for those who, all things considered, still want to work for the NHS. Most importantly, this show confirms what I’ve always knew since a very young age: the hell a child is going to go out anywhere from my body.

After the goryness of This is Going to Hurt, it’s time for A Very English Scandal, again with Ben Whishaw and my favourite Brit: Hugh Grant. At this point in his career I can’t be objective with his work because he’s going for roles where he just wants to have fun and I love him for that. Seeing him in a wider range of roles beyond the English heartthrob he so wonderfully personified back in the mid-90s, I understand why he couldn’t get rid of his youth (and beautiful looks) quick enough to be able to experiment more in his craft and embrace characters with a dark side.

Grant portrays Jeremy Thorpe, Liberal MP and later leader of the Liberal Party, who felt his political ascend in danger when former lover Norman Scott (played by Whishaw) threatened to blackmail him and reveal their love affair. In a time when homosexuality was still a crime, Thorpe saw only one way out: to have his lover killed in order to silence the rumours that could put his career and reputation in jeopardy. This is another great performance from both Ben Whishaw and Hugh Grant, who has been going from strength to strength in the last decade. Just when I thought I couldn’t like the man anymore, he has me falling in love with him all over again.

Halfway through the week, and after checking that I am very much on track with my to-watch list, I give in and start watching Normal People after dinner. The episodes are less than 30 minutes so I feel confident that I can squeeze in the 12 of them without much trouble. What’s six less hours of sleep when you don’t have to pay for a tv licence? Nothing tastes like free iPlayer feels, to paraphrase Kate Moss - who I’m sure had someone paying for her tv licence and therefore never experienced the precarity I live in.

A few episodes in I can see how the many and definitely necessary nude scenes to advance the plot in Normal People probably contributed to raise Mescal’s profile. Like the one I’m watching right now, where even in the universally unflattering situation of removing one’s underwear while standing on one leg, he manages to look like the Discobolus instead of the drunk flamingo pose the rest of us seem to adopt instinctively. Impressive acting indeed.

I can’t believe it’s 23:00 already. Right. Time for tea now.

All teas in the house have fancy names like “Goddess Bliss” or “Midnight Magic” so it’s impossible to know what they taste like because the description on the box is equally cryptic.

“Goddess Bliss,” the one I decide to go for, it’s supposed to “Awaken the power within you with a unique blend of heartwarming spices that will leave you reinvigorated and relaxed.” And that’s supposed to taste of what exactly? Because the only times I’ve felt both reinvigorated and relaxed lots of sweat was involved. Call me picky but my taste buds have higher hopes for a tea called “Goddess Bliss.”

As I take a sachet and sniff it -cardamom, liquorice, cinnamon, ginger and aniseed- before putting it on a mug and pouring hot water, I notice it has a red tag attached with a message: “Ask yourself: Who am I and what am I doing?”

Ouch.

I look up to the tv, where Paul Mescal has remained frozen on the screen, waiting for me to decide whether I should press play again as even he seems to be asking me if this is what I’ve come here for.

Same, Paul, same.

The irony that I am actually in Oxford to do a writing course is not lost on me. I had planned to read late into the night, comfortably tucked in bed, and write every day as Oxford proved to be a fruitful place for creative ideas when I came here last year.

The words of Ella about how this is a free country come back to mind. Certainly for those paying a tv licence, but not for people like me, who are now enslaved to a TV to make the most of watching iPlayer for free for ten days when, with the price I’m paying for the house I’m staying at, I could have afforded a TV licence all these years and avoided this ridiculous situation. Seeing how I manage my personal finances it is obvious why a career in wealth management, and the life of riches it often leads to, was never on the cards for me.

The books I’ve brought with me -not to mention the books I’ve bought at Blackwell’s on day one of my arrival- are patiently waiting to receive an ounce of the attention paid to the shows I’m binge-watching in order to stick to my viewing schedule. How cruel my behaviour these past days must have seemed to them when books have been my trusted companions, always by my side. Unlike iPlayer and ridiculously attractive naked men that look like Greek statues when removing their slips.

In the silence that surrounds me as the TV is still on pause the choice is crystal clear.

I decide to make another tea first and try “Midnight Magic” (“A sensuous journey into the intoxicating power of exotic fruits and flowers which will relive and awaken your senses”), before taking my life back into my hands. As I pour hot water the smell of roses, jasmin, lychee and pomelo ascends into my nostrils. That’s more like it. Even the message on the red tag is a good omen validating my newfound determination: “Have wisdom in your actions and faith in your merits.”

I take the tea with me, inhaling its voluptuous perfume, and sit back on the sofa, caressing the cover of The Fraud by Zadie Smith. Fifty pages left. I take a sip of tea, ready to immerse myself back in fiction, prepared for what’s to come.

Jesus, this man has been sculpted by the gods, I exclaim as I press play and admire every muscle in Paul Mescal’s anatomy as he takes off his clothes once again.

Midnight magic indeed.

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Abroad is an independent publication about identity and belonging, living in between cultures and languages, the love of books, music, films, creativity, life in London, and being human in the age of artificial intelligence.

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1. The streaming platform for the BBC and for which, alas, you also need to pay a tv licence if you want to watch it on your computer. Or you could opt for the illegal route and watch it all the same without a licence and risk a £1,000 fine if you’re caught. Which was a perfectly acceptable option until I did receive a letter asking me if I had, by any chance, been watching iPlayer without a licence during a scarily precise period of time. I duly responded that I would never dreamed of such a thing and that was the end of me watching iPlayer for good.

2. He is brilliant in All of Us Strangers, where he stars with a phenomenal Andrew Scott (aka Hot Priest). His performance in Aftersun will leave you heartbroken and his role in Foe uneasy. Now waiting for the release of Gladiator II, where he stars opposite Pedro Pascal and Denzel Washington, and The Sound of Music, where he’ll star with Josh O’Connor. Apparently he’s also been cast in an upcoming Beatles movie as Paul McCartney. All this to say that I do like Paul Mescal as an actor and had remained oblivious to his rising status as a sex symbol after Normal People because, in case it wasn’t clear enough, I don’t have a tv licence and missed all the buzz around the show when it was released on BBC Three in 2020.