In fairness, it can't be easy trying to get people excited about politics in the UK, especially when you've got the likes of David Cameron and Nigel Farage ignoring you like you've just crawled out of Downton Abbey's servant's quarters to feed them dinner.
The territory with the least appreciated melancholy, perhaps, is reality TV. One of The Office's masterstrokes was it tapped into the (at the time) growing, Warholian trend of shows from which people became famous for being themselves rather than playing a fictional character.
Trust me, I totally understand a lady's right to a little wink wink, nudge nudge. Sex, in a nutshell. It's just, normally, I like to at least know a person's name before I get a good look at their nethers.
These days I've become increasingly bored of television formats and much prefer the company of my laptop, the neighbours cat (who wanders through my conservatory in a daily escape bid from captivity) and a mug of beef tea.
As with last January, to aid you with planning your year's cinemagoing, I've highlighted one film from each month that looks unmissable. It was hard narrowing it down to just one but I've concentrated hard and I think I've pulled it off.
I was lying there in ecstasy, realising that existence and the formal projection of a self are distinctly separate and within the means of human control but all the time in the back of my mind I'm thinking "Does this make me French? Does this make me French?".
Neeson now seems to play roles that combine the everyday concerns of middle-age men (being a father and husband), a 'particular set of skills' (black-belt upf**kery), and under-the-radar sexism (women either need to be saved or simply don't feature) to box office success.