Now that the lights have gone out on Ramsay Street, I have a confession to make: despite being on the air for the past 37 years and having written about the show and its stars many times, I never actually watched an episode of Neighbours.
Yes, I’ve been faking it.
Kylie Minogue and Jason Donovan on the set of Neighbours as Scott and Charlene for the finale of the long-running Australian soap opera.Credit:Network Ten
And now, in this era of never-ending streaming platforms and round-the-clock television binging, it seems increasingly unlikely that I will ever watch any episodes of the show. Frankly, there is simply too much television to see, and too little time to squeeze it all in.
Yet strangely, I somehow know many of the Neighbours storylines, albeit by default. Like when Scott and Charlene got married, when Harold was swept out to sea and when his beloved Madge died.
In its heyday, Neighbours was impossible to ignore. It was the very definition of “water cooler television”, friends and colleagues discussing the previous night’s episode, while ignorant interlopers like me lurked in the tea-room gleaning a few crumbs in the process.
It was unpatriotic not to be a fan. Friends from England would write asking about upcoming storylines, of which I had no clue, as those scant details I had surreptitiously learned while jiggling teabags with intent were so few and far between. Describing my knowledge (and interest) in Neighbours storylines and characters as “superficial” would be over-egging things considerably.
Which was why I was happy to skip last Thursday night’s grand finale. I’d seen enough clips of all the old stars returning over the past few weeks to get a rough of idea of where things were headed. There was little nostalgic value for me.
Though I admit, my Erinsborough ignorance has not come without a price. It was hell at the Logies on the red carpet when the latest batch of fresh young cast members would come bounding down.
I had to quickly dream up something innocuous to ask them, hoping they wouldn’t go too deeply into their “character development” or wax lyrical about the show’s story arcs.
I have equally limited knowledge about any of the multitude of Kardashian franchises, which I know I will NEVER watch. And, for a while, it was the same with Game Of Thrones.
But just as I know who the Kardashians are, for years I knew all about Jon Snow, that there was a lot of blood, gore, incestuous sex and devious plotting going on in GOT. Oh, and that winter was coming.
Peter Dinklage in a scene from Game of Thrones.
Once, I even pretended to have a favourite “House” after turning up at the launch of a GOT-themed whiskey.
“Stark!” I confidently declared, as the leather-clad, bare-chested bartender poured me the tipple to sample.
I have lost count of the number of times friends, some of them truly committed fan fanatics of the show, would launch into long-winded, seemingly interminable conversations about major moments in the series, like when Ned Stark lost his head – literally. Or the bloody Red Wedding scene.
Each time I would feign interest, smiling, nodding in agreement. But, in fact, I had absolutely no clue about any of it, until many years later when I binge-watched the entire series during lockdown and COVID isolation. It was a daunting task, one I had put off for years because of the sheer volume of episodes to get through.
It proved to be a revelation; I was completely hooked. Hurtling down the Thrones hole for days on end, I found myself utterly transfixed by those same storylines that once had my eyes glazing over.
As I got deeper into the show, I started sending messages in the middle of the night, sharing my new-found conversion with all the enthusiasm those fans had evangelised the show’s virtues to me years before. Sadly, for them, those major plot moments had well and truly passed.
I received many bemused emoji faces in response, though that was much more polite than the comments I received after admitting on a friend’s Facebook thread I had still not seen Top Gun as she was espousing the greatness of the sequel Top Gun: Maverick.
Yes, Top Gun was launched back in 1986. It has been on television too many times to count, and in the era of streaming is constantly available. I figured the horse had well and truly bolted, so why bother?
Kelly McGillis with Tom Cruise in Top Gun.Credit:Paramount
My admission prompted a deluge of disbelief from people who have known me for decades. People I consider intimate and dear friends. People I regard very highly.
Suddenly, I was a complete stranger to them. We no longer spoke in a common tongue.
And there are many more “water cooler” shows that have passed me by like House Of Cards, The Sopranos, Ozark – all of which sound appealing but have so far evaded my remote control.
And again, I ask myself, do I REALLY need to watch the show when I can simply fake it, at least until the next pandemic comes along?
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