The small screen

As a liberal, left wing arts graduate there is a low culture you are expected to scorn above all others (and often honestly do); the television. It doesn’t matter that the goggle box was the fourth family member of the household growing up (as was the 90’s fashion) you’re meant to pretend like you’ve never seen an episode of Neighbours, The Simpsons or MTV cribs. Well maybe MTV is still cool to say you watched, in its ‘original’ form. Yet it was the only food for thought in a standard middle class family. It would have been odd if suddenly your mother brought out a copy of the weekend Guardian paper and started reclining with it on a shabby chic sofa next to a pile of half read books. No, that is something of our Pinterest-perfect century, the only books in my household before were the bible and the yellow pages; those who lived different lives are either lying or had cultured parents (the kind that went to the theatre for fun and didn’t have central heating).

I’m not the first to liken it to early man gathering around a campfire to tell stories and keep safe. Maybe that is where our natural attraction to it comes from, with everybody, even those who are anti-television, find themselves hypnotised by it and can barely look away when it is on in a room. The attractive colours, flashing lights and music make our eyes drift toward it, willing or not. All focus is gone, you can only absorb. But how much can you absorb? Well quite a lot it seems. I remember next to nothing of my private school education but could sing you the entire Fresh Prince of Bel Air rap that I haven’t heard in twenty years. A waste of my time then? Could be, but those who say television is not educational are wrong. Watching it educates us on what half the planet is also watching, or at least just the people in Flanders. The mentality of the masses is still reflected within that flashing rectangle of pixels. An idiot box it may be, but uninformative? Never.


The fatal flower is the perverted shy girl, the one you wouldn’t suspect. Under a soft exterior lies a complex being with an unyielding wildness, anchored to the earth by her humble nature and inexplicable dry humour. She is the femme of now, the modern woman who’s thoughts transcend through cultures and time.

Over the coming months let ‘La Fleur Fatale’ be your guide to the hidden insights and stories of a watchful woman’s eye navigating through the ‘European’ way of life. Struggles and mishaps ensue as life is embraced and the thorny introvert femme clammers for life’s answers. All possible subjects are covered from death to Kim Kardashian and from sisterhood to the perfect strawberry frappe.

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