TurfNetters, in a recent Forum discussion on Netflix viewing, revealed a sophisticated appetite for quality TV.  I expected this, as TurfNet members tend to be more intellectual than residents of other golf internet sites, where "reality" shows rule.  

Here at Rockbottum CC, we strive to present an outward image of sophistication and erudite intellectualism, but when alone with Netflix in our darkened home theatre/cart barn, we like to watch British TV comedy.

Once you learn the language, Brit TV is excellent fare.  (Use the subtitles feature.)  Canadian sci-fi and Scandinavian detective shows are really good and there are a few high quality American shows.  A lot of American TV has become predictable and desperate, as if it's written by accountants trying to replicate previously successful formulas rather than producing original material.  Having studied Hollywood's 7-Beat screenwriting technique, I enjoy calling out lines and plot developments in domestic TV.  (I wonder if that's why even our dog Hogan refused to watch TV with me?)

Brit TV is superior.  I absorbed what culture I have from Brit TV.  Not 'Downton Abbey', I'm referring to 'Fawlty Towers' and 'The IT Crowd' and 'Doc Martin' and 'Keeping Up Appearances'.  Ludell's fashion sense came from "Onslow" a character on 'Keeping Up Appearances', but the mullet and mustache was stolen from the 1972 version of Ken Mangum.

'Fawlty Towers' was my favorite show for decades, although I couldn't quite figure out why.  I studied the scripts obsessively and watched the shows over and over, laughing at Basil as he struggled for success.  Saddled with a cruel wife and a completely incompetent doofus as his assistant, Basil tried hard to raise the standards of his hotel to attract the elite, while ignoring his true support, the middle class.

Ludell's fashion sense came from "Onslow" a character on 'Keeping Up Appearances', but the mullet and mustache was stolen from the 1972 version of Ken Mangum...

Basil was desperate for a glowing review from royalty, yet even with his aggressive marketing and infrastructure improvements, he still failed.  

And then one day, it hit me . . . I was the Basil Fawlty of golf.

Instead of Manuel, I had Buddy.  Instead of Sybil, I had Momma.  No matter how hard I tried to get the elite to visit and elevate us to golf's knighthood, it just would not happen.  I realized the same theme ran through 'Keeping Up Appearances', as Hyacinth struggled in vain to gain the approval of Brit society's upper crust.

I had been trying to get golf royalty like Brad Klein to visit Rockbottum CC and review my design, but was rebuffed at every turn.  Geoff Shackelford ignored our pleas, as did Whitten and Arnold and Jack.  Oh, the reviews came, and they were very good, it's just they weren't written by the aforementioned elite; the names were Cletus and Odell and Buford and they wore overalls and played barefoot.  (At least they didn't change their shoes in the parking lot.)

Once I accepted the truth, it was easy to sit back and enjoy Basil and Sybil and Manuel . . . and hey, since it's 

only January and we are facing 90 days of early darkness, cold and wet, go on the TurfNet Forum and check out what your brethren are watching on Netflix.  Try some Brit TV, like 'The IT Crowd' or go back and watch some vintage Rockbottum TV on TurfNet.

Time to sign off here at Fawlty Towers Golf Club and Resort, cause Momma just walked in and said "Break's over boys, grab a shovel."  Better go change cups, put some mints on some pillows and slip that paper over the commode.