Life imitating art

Maybe this is glaringly obvious, but TV is NOTHING like real life, which is odd because some of it is meant to be. Take Eastenders for example. Current storylines include the murder of a George Michael obsessed woman by a bespectacled gay boy with a photo frame and Ian Beale reeling in his 19th wife. Coronation Street has a tram just happening to fall off it's tracks just as it's passing the cobbles, and all of Gails husbands (and son) trying to off her. Emmerdale has been unlucky enough to have had a plane fly right into the local pub (what are the chances?) and a teenager giving birth in a phone box. Yes, there's been the odd storyline that I can imagine happening in the real world, but even the most mundane event is dramatised to oblivion. And TOWIE is actually depicted as being real, but look at all the drama and parties and affairs! And now let's look at my life and those of my nearest and dearest. Can you imagine getting the Eastenders type 'duff-duff-duffs' to me dragging Charlie across the school playground after he'd lay face-down on the floor in a strop? Or Friday night's cliffhanger being me feeding my neighbours cats and having to clean the carpet as one of them had honked up a hairball? No, didn't think so. An episode of TOWIE would be quite dull if all that happened was one of the humungously-bosomed glamour pusses hanging out some washing and clipping their guinea pigs claws (again, not euphemisms). But maybe this means that someone, somewhere is having all my fun? Maybe there is someone whose life is one long rollercoaster ride of affairs, murder trials, 'who's the daddy?'s and scratchcard winnings? Or maybe I should just move to Essex!