Inner monologue... Watching too much Sex and the City can have unexpected side-effects. Photograph: Craig Blankenhorn/AP
The Will and Grace complete seasons 1-5 "Bundle" box set was released on DVD yesterday. That's a fair few days' worth of watching Will, a gay lawyer, and his best friend Grace, who runs an interior design firm along with rich socialite Karen and gay struggling actor Jack; and I can't help thinking that it really can't be very good for your health.
A couple of episodes in and you will notice that before a short argument starts, both Will and Grace will simultaneously say the same words; if you have a partner in your series marathon, you may notice that this rubs off on you. Grace is greedy and will eat anything, Karen is an alcoholic and is consistently under the influence; again, you may well be effected (Karen is also addicted to a variety of prescription pills, but I sincerely hope that a box set could not fuel a problem of this gravity).
Box sets are safest when they are harmlessly indulged in during one's university years, or annually for the three days following Christmas. In short, when nothing too challenging is required of you mentally and a kind of comatosed, lazy, indulgent and malleable version of yourself will suffice. Television is an addictive substance and a box set is like a binge; they are necessary on occasion but you certainly don't come out of the experience unscathed.
It happened on an international scale with Friends. People lost the plot entirely and the "Rachel cut" was as universally acknowledged as the common bob. But that wasn't so much of a problem, the worrying part was the way we all began speaking; we charged about spurting non-stop, exaggerated, deadpan humour and searching in vain for our Central Perk.
And even if you think that you were largely unaffected by this, you only have to scrawl down the vast Friends wikiquote page to see that it is all embedded in your brain, and that you can't read it without mouthing the words and matching the expression of each character as you recite their line. Many have echoed Ross's sentiments of "being on a break" and Joey Tribianni's line "How you doin?" has been immortalised. The use of "so" to mean "very" or "really" has damaged our speech forevermore.
My worst experience to date happened during a dose of flu that left me bedbound with nothing but a box set of Sex and the City series 1-6 for company. According to the back of the box, that's precisely 447 minutes of viewing time that would almost certainly nurse me to recovery. After approximately 300 of these minutes I was deteriorating. Mentally that is - and then physically. I suffered a bout of insomnia that lasted a week. My very existence became governed by that very same, and very irritating, train of thought that each Sex and the City episode is structured around. During the day my every idea and action was prefaced by the Carrie-style commentary in my head: "Meanwhile, back in town..." and during the night I began to pontificate at speed over absolutely everything...
"Are all men bastards? Are we ever happy with what we have? What is it that women really want from men? Is a guy who falls asleep in front of the TV with a bucket of chicken really what I want?" and various other beliefs and opinions pertaining to many a common female issue. And it wasn't just the endless questions that prevented me from nodding off; the fact that my 4am neurosis regarding the rocky road of being single was delivered in a chirpy American voice really began to grate.
I'd like to suggest to anyone else that might be at risk from Carrie Bradshaw brain hijacking a less destructive option; selected episodes are also available as part of the Sex and the City Essentials DVD collection. These are four separately packaged discs containing three selected episodes that fit a common theme. Short and sweet.
Extras is due out on March 26 and I'm already mildly concerned. Andy Millman as a wigged and bespeckled Ray Stokes flapping around and shouting "Are you having a laugh?! Is he having a laugh?!" is hardly what anyone, ailing or otherwise, needs stuck in their head.
