Dermo is back on our screens on Sunday night with his architectural erotica.
I don’t know about you but I’m already giddy with excitement.
You see it’s come to my attention that Soft furnishing are essentially middle-aged women’s porn and Dermot Bannon is our Deuce Bigalow.
Picture the scene, a cold winters night, lights dimmed, wood stove fire roaring, a few nibbles on the coffee table, cold Vino in a Waterford crystal glass in hand, wearing something comfortable. Its half past nine, you’re ready for him – Dermot Bannon and his ‘Room to Improve’!
Women (and men) all over the country wait in anticipation to see Dermo turn a one bed, cottage with no roof or interior walls into a five bed, kitchen – with an island, mezzanine level haven with a “good room”. Imagine a good room. Is it hot in here?
Then if we are not already off our face on the excitement of it all, there’s Dermo’s relationships with the “clients”.
When they first meet it’s like any relationship, exciting, full of new adventure and hope, then like turns into a teenage type dalliance. The relationship is affected by outsider opinions, like the teenager it’s his mates, in the ‘Room to Improve’ relationship it’s the builder or a shaker style kitchen door.
We, as the viewer flip sides, one minute it’s all “Ah come on Dermo, it’s not the Taj Mahal. He needs to get a grip. He’s not listening to them“.
Then as quick as you’ve said it you change to “This pair are ridiculous, they’re not building the Taj Mahal and Dermot has gone out of his way to design that 2 foot sunken floor in the middle of their living room. Why are they giving him stick? Yeah, it’s impractical for the next 4 years with an infant and baby learning to walk who won’t be able to manoeuvre the steep stone steps but they’ve a children’s hospital nearby, don’t they?”
Then we get consumed in the shaker doors for the kitchen, the slate for the roof, a wood burner, subsiding space, the duck egg to offset the grey, lots of storage, the dirty piece of steel – Jesus Dermo, don’t.stop!
As you savour every minute after 35 minutes in you’ve redesigned your whole house, granted the couple on the show have a €100k budget and you’re not sure if you’ve the ten euro for the milkman but never the less when Dermo talks deep set sockets, you want, no need and you don’t care how you get them.
Three, maybe even two years ago none of this meant anything to me, but now I have a home, a house that we put our heart and souls into getting. A Saturday trip to Homestore and more, Homebase, Woodies, Harry Corry is like crack! You can’t get enough of it.
I’m not every going to start about IKEA. Yes, it can destroy a perfectly healthy relationship of a busy bank holiday afternoon, but when your fingers are loosing circulation from the large plastic shopping bag, that is over flowing with the, well let’s be honest shit you don’t need and the shopping adrenaline is racing through your vain, everyone’s winning, right?
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so then there’s Dermo the leader of our design ambitions filling our screens of Sunday night, it’s all so achievable (with a hundred grand budget) his tone is smooth, confident and his pencil work, well I’ve never seen a man to sketch a mezzanine like him. Kevin McCloud has nothing on our Dermo and Dermo does nothing for our notions of grand designs.
The show whizzes to its climax, a shell of a house to panning shots of clean lines, bright white surfaces, the exposed wall that you agreed with Dermot should be exposed, is glorious and your almost picking your sitting room wall paper off to see if you can achieve the look.
It’s perfect, clean, polished and then everyone, even the cranky builder is raising their glasses to a job well done. The happy face fade out and you’re debating a cigarette even though you haven’t smoked in three years, Next week Dermo, next week.