Chat shows on the telly are a bit like haemorrhoids – uncomfortable and unsightly, yet an unavoidable reminder of the shallowness of human existence. No matter how smart you are, you can be guaranteed that a good dose of chat shows (or piles) will lower you to the basest level of mankind’s essence pretty sharpish. They’re a kind of lowest common denominator, or The Great Equaliser. Watching them is a lesson in humility. At first you’ll scoff and titter as morons bare their innermost secrets in front of an audience of millions. Then you’ll shudder as you realise that these people aren’t too different from you. You may think you’re better than them, but in fact you’re exactly the same. Scary, right?

English speakers are spared the prehistoric production values of Finnish chat shows, which is something you can be very thankful for, trust me. On the other hand, what you end up with are some of the US of A’s televisual behemoths, all of whom are much less clever than they think they are, despite being encouraged by audiences comprised entirely of simpletons to think they’re the smartest people, like EVER, or at least since Einstein posited the explanation of the perihelion precession of Mercury (Google it).

First off, of course, is Oprah (Nelonen, every flippin’ morning). Insanely rich yet generous in the way only billionaires can be she almost single-handedly invented ‘tabloid talk shows’ with an emphasis on literature, self-improvement and spirituality. However, despite her apparent saintliness and advocating of equal rights her show is still stunningly banal – although not as trite as some others. A quick glance at her website shows the depths they often plumb. Not necessarily with Oprah herself but when some ridiculous individuals are wheeled on as ‘experts’. Take a bloke called Nate Berkus (‘matchmaking consultant’) who helps people like Robin (41 years old, doesn’t date anyone who’s divorced or drinks with a straw) find love, or not as the case may be. It’s clichéd and tired television that is remarkable only for the fact that Nelonen rely on Oprah for about three hours of their scheduling every day. Watch and feel your soul desiccate inside your very being.

Then we have Dr. Phil (Nelonen, every flippin’ afternoon), who has invented himself as the world’s foremost psychologist and therapist. Had I a problem, I would visit Phil as a last resort second only to tying a noose around my neck. Patronising yet strangely affable, his delicate southern-accented voice belies a heart of stone and an attitude determined to tell you what you don’t want to hear. A woman comes on the show and watches a film made of her screaming like a banshee at her teenage son who, naturally, feels unloved. “You suck as a parent,” Phil tells the woman, and that’s it. Somehow Phil is a genius. He’s made millions out of giving people advice that in the old days used to be called ‘common sense’.

Finally, we have Ellen DeGeneres (LIV a.k.a. Nelonen, thrice daily), a supremely unfunny and irritating stand-up comedian, notable primarily for having an audience comprised of the most boneheaded shrieking dimwits ever assembled.

So, chat shows: mindless drivel suitable only for the bored and naïve, beloved of Nelonen, and reminder of the futility of humankind’s existence.

Nick Barlow