WITH the options of the ‘Off’ switch and reading a book or playing cards prevailing, our television menu, not only over the festive period but throughout the year, is rather dire to say the least.

They are struggling to come up with new ideas, so it is no wonder that programmes like Coast (the local Jurassic episodes especially interesting for us), and Julia Bradbury’s various walks tickle our love of the countryside with their scenic views and wide-open spaces.

And to think that a century ago, JB Priestley, Sir Frederick Treves, HV Morton, and Dorset’s own Olive Knott started the travelogue ball rolling by publishing books to provide the literary equivalent is astonishing.

The extortionate BBC licence fee once paid the likes of the all-too-quickly-forgiven bad boy, Jonathan Ross, ridiculous seven-figure sums, and even their once esteemed schedule leaves much to be desired; most of it old and classic, and now licensed to the comedy channel for perpetual repeats; but with nothing new to take its place.

And whilst the celebrity chefs offer fabulous menus and shower our taste buds with new flavours and ideas, doing so increases our waistline, so the other side of the coin has more rather embarrassing programmes showing pitifully obese people trying to shed the weight created by this newly-found culinary zest.

And laughter, which we need a great deal of in these dire times, is today littered with profanity.

We pay a great deal of money for being entertained by television, so the “turn it off and read a book” brigade should not voice this as the easy and well-worn option.

It is only the pity that we have to put up with re-runs of the re-runs, and an overbearing amount of banal fodder bought in from abroad.

ALAN BURRIDGE, Blandford Road, Upton, Poole