Nothing could rival VHS. It was an age where you could turn a movie you hated into a TV show you loved just with a little piece of sellotape. For years we didn’t question why when you tried to rewind videotape the player went into convulsions. It didn’t bother us that dirty great lines would occasionally inch across our screens. The ugliness of the thing was never remarked upon. Then DVD arrived. Oh provider of clear picture quality, oh giver of bonus features, how I marvelled at you’re slim donut shape. I was still in secondary school when DVD arrived and it would be some years before it took over from VHS in a big way but when it did I was ready. A twenty-something from the "me" generation. Could God have provided anything better for me to waste my money on? I think not.

At the start of my illness I just bought a couple of DVD’s here and there but it wasn’t anything serious. Just a bit fun. It quickly moved on to director’s cuts. They gave me such a buzz. All that added material. It wasn’t long before I was on box-set’s and at this stage I was well and truly hooked. I started importing the stuff from America. Even got a region-free DVD player to play em’ on. Man I was spiralling out of control. That’s when I decided to stop. Hell, I needed to stop. Any more DVD’s and I could open an Xtra-Vision store. You see having DVD’s gives you pleasure from purely owning them in a way owning a kettle or a toaster could never give. In a sort of sad way owning DVD’s in my generation can define you, can make you an individual. I’d go through phases thinking Bill Murray is so great I must own all of his films. Everything from Groundhog Day to Ghostbusters and from Stripes to Rushmore.

 I even bought a DVD fireplace once. "You can almost feel the warmth as your screen turns into a romantic log fire," said the blurb on the front of the box. With no chimney to sweep or smoky smells who wouldn’t want a copy of this, I thought. What a fool I was. I’ve only ever watched that fire burn once. In fact, its much the same with my entire collection. You buy a movie, watch it and then its confined to spend the rest of its days sandwiched between the Star Wars box-set and Logan’s Run. Worst still is when, at the height of addiction, you buy so many DVD’s that you haven’t even watched them all and it may be weeks, months even before you mange to sit down and do so. Then there are the bonus features. Those commentaries from directors and actors with anecdotes only they find funny. "Oh how we laughed!" The option of different languages because watching Cary Grant speaking in Polish is kinda funny. And of course there are the obligatory trailers. They put them on because even though we’ve bought the movie, we may not find the time to watch it, and with trailers these days usually summarising the entire story in two minutes, they’re the perfect addition to our busy lives. Busy buying more DVD’s.

So I’ve finally managed to kick the habit. It’s going quite well so far. I only had one craving in the past couple of weeks. I needed to confirm that Steve Martin was funny at some point in his career, so I bought a trilogy of his films. Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid gave me my answer. Other than that I’m clean. I’m a reformed man. I see the light, baby. Praise God, I see the shining light.

Downhill from here by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist