Dr Harry arrived early one Saturday morning in the schools holidays. We were still asleep when the knock came at the front door and my youngest son was the first to be confronted by the well-known television personality, camera crew and producer.
He fled up the stairs leaving me to be the next to have his dishevelled appearance filmed. But it was my daughter they were really after as she had written to the celebrity vet about problems with her psychopathic rabbit and troubled guinea pig.
His impromptu house call was our first and only taste of being reality television subjects and my attempts to hastily tidy our cluttered backyard and remove embarrassing items from the clothes line were not appreciated.
Our segment never did air – obviously our animals were not strange enough, even if we were – but reality television of every conceivable kind has continued to proliferate and grow more extreme in its efforts to expose the lives of real people to a reality-hungry television audience.
If it was just friendly vets visiting little girls and their pets in unscripted house calls, reality television would no doubt pass benignly into history.
But when it includes (successful) attempts to lure couples into adultery…
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