More Dead Zone TV

I'm a terrible man. Last night I told a barefaced lie to my Mum. Two lies, if I'm honest.

Here's what happened.

She said to me, "You'll be letting the girls watch Strictly Come Dancing. To see all the lovely frocks".
"No ... we don't get that channel", I told her. "It's a shame".
"What about the X-Factor then", she tried. "They'll enjoy that. A lot of good singers".
"We, er, we don't have that channel either, Mum", I fibbed, not entirely sure she was buying this.

I think she did believe me though. Mothers tend not to be all that satellite savvy. She even felt sorry for me, bless her heart. Puir wee laddie, exiled away there in Ireland without even proper tv to watch.

Now I feel guilty. So today I have one last job before I settle down to watch the rugby, roast chicken safely tucked up in the oven. I'm just heading up to the roof now to point the satellite dish away from England entirely. The source of the dead zone. Just so's I'm not lying to my Mum any more.