Perusing Clive James's 1981 intro to one of his books of collected TV criticism. Fascinating view. "The frightful blunder by which the BBC wiped the tapes of plays by Pinter, Owen, Gray, and other leading playwrights was merely a prematurely terminal instance of what would have happened anyway."

It’s kinda true in that now we have this “instantaneous … data retrieval” it’s impossible to keep up with the new AND enjoy the old. Thankfully, most modern sitcoms are eminently missable so we can rewatch Porridge or The Good Life for the nth time guilt free. And Callan still trumps most.