Who needs books when we could be watching Cheryl Cole?

TV has spoken; the printed word has had its day.

You might think that it's impossible, as the great British public is made up of such a range of personalities, to generalise about what the "man on the street" likes. But there are people out there who specialise in doing just that. They are researchers, demographics experts and think-tank members. They monitor your reactions in minute detail. They provide ammunition to your grandad, who claims that nobody "has a real job any more". And they report back to the authorities about what you want. At the beginning of another year of television commissioning, I am hearing their findings in the novel ways in which executives are rejecting projects. Some are truly alarming.

Did you know that you're not interested in books? At least, not if you own a TV. You can't be into both. Over the past few weeks, I've been in two meetings about television proposals on the subject of books. In both, the executives were sceptical about the appeal of literature. According to their research, they said, books are a forbidding subject. Not very fun. Not the sort of thing you'd want to know about when you could be looking at images of Cheryl Cole, reading magazine articles about Cheryl Cole or thinking about Cheryl Cole - which is what they reckon the public is keen on. (Cheryl Cole has written a book, we countered. The commissioner's eyes lit up briefly.)

One of the TV gurus even described the idea of books as "a bit 20th-century". I'd never felt so old. I don't know about you, but I was quite keen on the 20th century. Computers, for example, are rather 20th-century. Besides, books have been around for a lot longer than a century - longer, as I was tempted to remark, than television - but there you go. TV has spoken; the printed word has had its day.

Those who "green light" TV shows, films and so on are notorious for their irrational decision-making. There is a story in the industry about a writer in the 1990s who was trying to get a psychological drama commissioned. Every avenue seemed to be blocked. When Jurassic Park came out, however, the writer got a call from an excited Hollywood mogul. "We're gonna make your movie!" he said. "We're gonna make it . . . with dinosaurs!"

This is an extreme (and possibly apocryphal) example - but not as extreme as you might imagine. The imperative to be "zeitgeisty" and "ahead of the curve" boils down to an endless process of watching what others are doing and trying to do the same thing. The "what we're looking for" briefs sent out by the major channels can be summarised thus: "We're on the lookout for The Office meets Little Britain meets Friends, with elements of Doctor Who, just to really cover our bases. Oh, and make sure someone famous is in it."

Then, they receive a script that miraculously achieves all of those things - but it's too late, because someone at head office saw Black Swan last night and they've rewritten the brief to say: "It would be great if it was about ballet, too."

Can the commissioners be blamed for making wild generalisations about "the public", though, when the public has such a short attention span? It used to be said that a new television programme had three series to prove itself. This has gone down to one. With the advent of web forums, a single episode can make or break a show.

Today, thanks to Twitter, everyone is not only a critic, but a hasty one. The virtual axe can be wielded less than five minutes in to a programme's debut, as some hipster's 140-character review - "This is shit, turning over" - receives 20,000 retweets. Before long, there'll be a website that dismisses shows before they have even been thought up, sparing everyone the tiresome business of making them.

Keep on dancing

It's because of all this that high-ranking TV officials with their jobs at stake look everywhere they can for easily digestible advice on what "we" are interested in. And it's also why everyone in television is bound by a set of committee-devised rules that are impossible to find out unless you try to break one of them.

Books are to be avoided. A programme is not worth making unless viewers can interact with it on Facebook. If you have two presenters, one must be male and the other female, or the show will look "too blokey". (Also, the girl must be pretty, though the man can be more geeky-looking.) No one under the age of 25 watches documentaries. Nearly all programmes must involve dancing. And, most importantly, if someone has made a successful programme that shows any of these rules to be nonsense, then forget the rule book and just copy what they did, using a slightly different name.

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 14 February 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The Middle East

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I am special and I am worthless: inside the mind of a narcissist

There's been a lot of discussion about narcissists this week. But what does the term actually mean?

Since the rise of Donald Trump, the term “narcissistic” has been cropping up with great regularity in certain sections of the media, including the pages of this journal. I wouldn’t want to comment about an individual I’ve never met, but I thought it would be interesting to look at the troubling psychological health problem of narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).

People with NPD (which is estimated to affect about 1 per cent of the population) have a characteristic set of personality traits. First, they have a deeply held sense of specialness and entitlement. Male NPD sufferers frequently present as highly egotistical, with an unshakeable sense of their superiority and importance; female sufferers commonly present as eternal victims on whom the world repeatedly inflicts terrible injustices. In both cases, the affected person believes he or she is deserving of privileged treatment, and expects it as a right from those around them.

Second, NPD sufferers have little or no capacity for empathy, and usually relate to other people as objects (as opposed to thinking, feeling beings) whose sole function is to meet the narcissist’s need for special treatment and admiration – known as “supply”. In order to recruit supply, NPD sufferers become highly skilled at manipulating people’s perceptions of them, acting out what is called a “false self” – the glittering high achiever, the indefatigable do-gooder, the pitiable victim.

The third characteristic is termed “splitting”, where the world is experienced in terms of two rigid categories – either Good or Bad – with no areas of grey. As long as others are meeting the narcissist’s need for supply, they are Good, and they find themselves idealised and showered with reciprocal positive affirmation – a process called “love-bombing”. However, if someone criticises or questions the narcissist’s false self, that person becomes Bad, and is subjected to implacable hostility.

It is not known for certain what triggers the disorder. There is likely to be a genetic component, but in many cases early life experiences are the primary cause. Narcissism is a natural phase of child development (as the parents of many teenagers will testify) and its persistence as adult NPD frequently reflects chronic trauma during childhood. Paradoxically for a condition that often manifests as apparent egotism, all NPD sufferers have virtually non-existent self-esteem. This may arise from ongoing emotional neglect on the part of parents or caregivers, or from sustained psychological or sexual abuse.

The common factor is a failure in the development of a healthy sense of self-worth. It is likely that narcissism becomes entrenched as a defence against the deep-seated shame associated with these experiences of being unworthy and valueless.

When surrounded by supply, the NPD sufferer can anaesthetise this horrible sense of shame with the waves of positive regard washing over them. Equally, when another person destabilises that supply (by criticising or questioning the narcissist’s false self) this is highly threatening, and the NPD sufferer will go to practically any lengths to prevent a destabiliser adversely influencing other people’s perceptions of the narcissist.

One of the many tragic aspects of NPD is the invariable lack of insight. A narcissist’s experience of the world is essentially: “I am special; some people love me for this, and are Good; some people hate me for it, and are Bad.” If people with NPD do present to health services, it is usually because of the negative impacts Bad people are having on their life, rather than because they are able to recognise that they have a psychological health problem.

Far more commonly, health professionals end up helping those who have had the misfortune to enter into a supply relationship with an NPD sufferer. Narcissism is one of the most frequent factors in intimate partner and child abuse, as well as workplace bullying. The narcissist depends on the positive affirmation of others to neutralise their own sense of unworthiness. They use others to shore themselves up, and lash out at those who threaten this precarious balance. And they leave a trail of damaged people in their wake. 

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times