How come people whose sole job it is to think deeply about stuff are absolutely incapable of expressing themselves properly? Is there some kind of hidden connection between philosophical genius and literary retardation?

I mean, philosophy’s not boring. I’ve recently established a philosophical discussion group in my neck of the (almost literally) woods, and only now – after the first two sessions – am I thinking, well, what exactly is philosophy? Technically, the love of wisdom, which can be anything, right? Any subject, if you think hard enough about it, will make you wiser.

So this week we’re talking about pop culture, and in particular reality TV. Most of my middle class friends only admit (reluctantly and blushing) to watching Master Chef. Maybe Alone. It would be a severe blow to your status to confess to liking Married at First Sight or Cops. Proceeding on the principle that philosophy is anything that philosophers have aired a view about, I canvassed Plato through to Foucault on pop culture and found – surprise surprise – that they all hated it. At best, it rots your mind; at worst, it turns you into an obedient slave of the System. Apparently.

Gotta say to me, it’s just boring. Bring back the gladiatorial games, I say. Although…it’s noticeable to me that working class Australians (and plenty of middle class Australians for that matter) don’t think very hard about anything. They used to. I read that in the 1930s there used to be these Working Mens’ Institutes where hard-handed lads would turn up and listen to Bernard Shaw or whatever. Now they watch Sky News. What happened?

Reality TV?