Telly used to be odd. Often that oddness was on purpose. I’m not talking about the “Alan Partridge pitching on nothing” oddness of shows like Splash or Who’s Doing the Dishes? – Through the Keyhole meets Come Dine With Me presented by the fat one from Westlife. Those shows are obviously just a disgusting waste of time from the ground up. No, I’m talking about the flavoursome, nutritious, umami weirdness of older shows, made by hippies who were trying to communicate something and allowing all manner of folksy freakishness to seep in. Robin of Sherwood, Richard Carpenter’s hour long Silvikrin commercial was tea time television…