The reason for this tense situation being our differing tastes in TV.
Lets remember that we only had 3 stations to chose from back then.
I wanted to watch Tiswas, a chaotic 3 hour show of comedy violence and stupidity hosted by a really young Chris Tarrant, my brother wanted to watch some science show on BBC2.
Incidentally my brother went on to become a successful Molecular Biologist .
I went onto draw stuff for a living.
Make of it what you will.
Regardless, a mighty battle ensued, concluding in both of us being sent to our bedrooms with just an etch a sketch and a box of Lego for entertainment.
A piece plan was drawn up by my long suffering Mother which basically involved writing our names on the kitchen calendar stating who had viewing rights to the TV at the weekends.
A bit like Israel and Palestine, without quite so much bloodshed.
This taught me the power of Mums, Democracy and Television.
30 years on, the world of TV has become an almost magical kingdom compared to its fledgling days and is evolving at a mighty speed .
Almost 87 years to the day that a Scottish Inventor called John Logie Baird gave a demonstration at Selfridges department store in London presenting a box that showed moving silhouette images, my 40 inch plasma stopped working.
Now I love my TV, or rather I love certain forms of media, film being one of them.
I find it informative, educational, inspiring and above all entertaining.
There are American dramas out there currently such as Mad Men and Game if Thrones which knocks all contemporaries into a cocked hat.
Both of which I am now missing due to a blown switch or fuse in the workings of my TV.
A pet hate of mine is the demonisation of TV, claiming that it is the cause of societal breakdown and diluting intelligence.
But hey, books can be blamed for that too.
For every Ken Kesey and Aldous Huxley theres some badly written pulp not worthy of wiping your arse with.
In the hands of an idiot anything can be made crass and worthless.
Its been said that TV has replaced the Story Teller, from the days when an elder would gather the children around the fire and tell tales of imagination and learning.
This has to be bollocks and why should we chastise ourselves over what men who hadn't yet evented electricity did to relieve boredom.
At the end of the day a Story from Grandad is never really going to cut the mustard going up against Die Hard.
The old adage, everything in moderation should be held as a mantra and accept, just like everything from Cake to Masterbation, its fine as long as you don't do it all day long.
So after a long days work, kids in bed. Me washed fed and tended to. Im faced with an empty space where the TV used to preside.
Aldous Huxley who I mentioned earlier has comes to mind during my lack of TV.
He wrote a very Famous book called the Doors of Perception which was basically an account of an afternoon taking Mescaline, ( a mind altering drug squeezed out of the Peyote cactus)
He goes on to describe how a simple vase of flowers had become a 'miracle, moment by moment of naked existence. Aware of every detail inside every petal.
Something he hadn't noticed untill taking the drug and opening his doors of perception.
Things that he had taken for granted on a day to day basis had suddenly become overwhelmingly beautiful.
With no TV I had suddenly become aware of my own creativity and mortality.
Id spent so much of my life sat in front of the tv when I could be finishing a my debut novel, or simply making love to my wife before 11 pm.
I became more aware of my surroundings and the people in it, once the distraction of television had been removed.
Its been 3 days now, and we chat more together as a family, I've read more, ive fixed some things around the house and ive tirelessly sexually harassed the wife.
But im missing it badly, and when the chatting runs dry, the books run out and the wife says no, theres an empty space on the wall that cant be ignored.
No TV is an experience that we should all try now and again just to open those doors of perception now and again.
And if like myself you find yourselves without one theres always Cake and Masterbation or Mescaline.
Just don't do it all day long.
Perched on an ugly orange and brown itchy sofa on a rainy Saturday morning in 1980, my older brother and I found ourselves in a Mexican standoff.