Spoilers

Hooking into online communities - whether it's Twitter, websites like IMDb or Television Without Pity, or even Facebook or MySpace - is a great way of sharing relevant, interesting information quickly with like-minded people all over the world.

On the whole, I find this incredibly liberating. If I see a good news story about, say, Arsenal, I can share it practically instantaneously with friends who might be interested in it. And conversely, they share stuff with me that I might otherwise miss. For an information junkie like me who has a wide variety of interests, my online connections make the process of filtering and assimilating relevant stories far more productive than even news aggregators such as Google Reader - it's like having an army of human editors at your disposal.

Of course, there is the odd downside, primarily 'spoilers'. Spoilers occur when someone who has seen a TV programme or film shares crucial information (e.g. a key plot twist, results of a public vote) with others who have not yet seen it, thereby 'spoiling' their enjoyment.

In the past, containing the spread of spoilers was pretty easy. Journalists would carefully withhold key plot elements from film reviews, and the media had an unwritten agreement not to spoil the revelation of, say, who shot JR (that's JR Ewing on Dallas, for those too young to remember) for UK viewers. Then everyone would watch said event at the same time as it was broadcast, and if you hadn't watched it - and over 27 million in the UK did watch it - then you had scant excuse when the topic was discussed at work/school the following day.

Today, of course, the media landscape is very different. When JR was shot (in 1981), VCRs were in their infancy, let alone the proliferation of technologies - PVRs, Sky+, iPlayer, delayed/repeat showings, downloads etc - which nowadays allow us to watch our favourite shows pretty much whenever and wherever we want: on TV, on a PC, or even on a laptop, portable DVD player or iPod while travelling. Just because you watched something last night doesn't mean I'll have seen it too; for instance, I have been up to four weeks behind on Lost this season, and I probably won't get round to watching season 3 of Brothers & Sisters until long after it's finished (I've seen the grand total of one out of 16 episodes so far).

So while Twitter et al are wonderful because they give me ready access to a wealth of information, there is always the clear and present danger of unwanted spoliers.

It has to be said, most people who are familiar with online etiquette are very good; they know not to post spoilers, or at the very least to flag them with a warning. However, it's all too easy for one to slip through the net - and one is all it takes - particularly when, say, US viewers have seen a show several days or weeks in advance of the rest of the world.

On the whole, I don't mind seeing spoilers, with two exceptions. One is when watching shows which rely on public votes to save/evict a contestant: part of the fun of watching American Idol or The Apprentice is trying to predict who is for the chop this week. The other is finales, where I just don't want to know what the season-ending shock twist or cliffhanger is in advance.

Which is why I'm going to be checking my Twitter account through squinted eyes over the next few days with regards to Heroes. The season 3 finale airs in the US this evening and will not be broadcast in the UK until a week today (two weeks if you're watching on BBC2 rather than BBC3). Which means seven full days of desperately trying to see no evil and hear no evil. For someone who is well practised at picking out key stories of interest in a sea of headlines, that's quite an effort.

And after that, the spoiler opportunities come thick and fast as the majority of US series draw to a close for the year. Somehow I need to try to avoid finding out what happens in Lost, Desperate Housewives and a number of others over the next few weeks. Having already been spoiled on the ending of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, I could really do without another.

So if you see me anywhere in the next few weeks hiding in a corner with my hands over my eyes and ears, there's no need to call the men in white coats. Just don't tell me anything I don't want to hear yet.

EDIT (May 3rd): Rats. I've just discovered the finale isn't on tomorrow, presumably because of the world snooker final; it's actually being shown a week later, on Monday 11th. That's another seven days of spolier avoidance. Fantastic(!)

Say hello, wave goodbye

It's the nature of television that shows come and go as surely as the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening, but it does seem that an awful lot of the programmes I watch are either gone, going or on the bubble this year.

Battlestar Galactica was a rarity, sailing off into the distance on its own terms after four seasons of, at times, breathtaking television. And while the three-hour finale left many questions unanswered (some deliberately so), the closing image of Bill Adama sitting on a hilltop talking to Laura Roslin's grave had an epic, cinematic feel to it which simply resonated with a melange of emotions. Never let anyone try to tell you that this version of BSG was just people and robots in spaceships.

Pushing Daisies, sadly, is gone after two shortened seasons; it appears that Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles will meet the same fate, although Fox remains tight-lipped. The former was, perhaps, a victim of its own left-of-centredness in a universe which demands that TV shows fit a convenient label; the latter stumbled a few times before finding its feet in the second half of this (second) season, but ultimately lost viewers by delivering a neat, introspective show rather than the crash-bang-wallop expectations of a mainstream audience which associates the Terminator franchise with ground-breaking special effects and bank-breaking action sequences.

Even Heroes - the darling of American TV two years ago - is looking distinctly wobbly. Still frequently brilliant, it has had a few too many missteps in a season which has continued to haemorrhage viewers, delivering a 'big bad' (Arthur Petrelli) in its first half who turned out to be a damp squib, killing off the new but much-loved character of Daphne Millbrook, sidelining Sylar by sending him off on yet another road trip, and too often changing tack every five minutes in a constant attempt to surprise and misdirect the audience. Don't get me wrong, it's still a great show, but it increasingly gives the impression that the genie has escaped from the bottle. Jumped the shark? Not yet, but a distinct fear. One more season before cancellation, I suspect.

On the other hand, Lost, now midway through its fifth and penultimate season, has rediscovered its mojo. After a year or two of seemingly aimless meandering, it now feels like we are heading somewhere definite, and every week it feels like the writers are picking up a dangling thread and tying it off. Kudos to executive producers Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindleof; Lost is once again event television. More than that, it is rewarding loyal, attentive viewers by resolving the loose ends and making the audience think.

Elsewhere, the American Idol juggernaut rolls on; this season has been worth it for Adam Lambert's performances alone. And as for the reality TV heavy hitters on this side of the pond, The Apprentice remains compulsive viewing, if only for the opportunity it affords to shout "No! You muppets!" at the screen at least three times per episode. (Incidentally, if Idol's Danny Gokey looks like the love child of Robert Downey Jr and JJ Abrams, then The Apprentice's Phillip Taylor is surely related to Chelsea's John Terry.)

What else? Law & Order UK promised more than it delivered; I'm not fussed either way whether it returns or not. Desperate Housewives is still a not-so-guilty pleasure, balancing genuine human drama and farcical comedy better than any show currently on television. And both My Name Is Earl and 30 Rock continue - successfully - to be played purely for laughs, a rarity in an environment where even comedies frequently need a serious side.

And, despite the frequently unfair battering it endured for not being Life On Mars (well, duh), next week sees the return of Ashes To Ashes for a second run. Fire up the Quattro ...

Debt repaid

It's always nice to be able to return a compliment.

For as long as I can remember, we have been regularly returning to Malaysia to visit my relatives, making the most of their hospitality and goodwill. From putting us up to taking us sightseeing to paying for countless lavish meals out, our extended family has always been generous in the extreme, even to the extent of organising our wedding for us.

So it's been lovely to have them - finally - visit us in the UK over the past three-and-a-half weeks. One of my cousins is studying in Nottingham this year, so her parents, her brother and one of my other aunts took the opportunity to come over. In the first week, we hosted them at our house for a barbecue (fortunately, it was warm and dry), and I took a couple of days off work to do the tour guide thing around London - you've got to love the London Eye, exorbitant though it is - and at Windsor Castle. They then jetted off to Rome on one of these Europe-on-a-coach-in-11-days tours before returning to London, whereupon the family headed off to Nottingham and Manchester for a few days. In the meantime, my other aunt and my parents stayed with us, and we did Oxford and some shopping at Bicester Village before everyone got back together again last night for a farewell dinner.

And that was it, really. Three-and-a-half weeks gone in a flash. All that remained was the airport run and traditional last-minute family photos this afternoon, and then they were gone. Already, barely hours later, it feels a bit surreal - as if they were never really here at all.

It's only gone a small way to returning all the favours they have done for us over the years, but it's a nice feeling to have finally amassed something in the credit column.

And now I'm knackered and off to bed.