IT seems the time has arrived when I will have to buy a new television.

There is little wrong with our current telly other than every so often, without prior warning, the picture starts shooting up and down like a demented accordion.

This eccentric behaviour can last a few seconds or several minutes before it returns to normal service.

If we knew beforehand how long it would be jumping up and down it would be easier to manage but we all sit there staring at it, hoping something will happen.

Have you ever noticed how long people will sit staring at a TV screen after the picture has suddenly disappeared or turned into a nightmare of zigs and zags?

In fairness, we have all tried different ways of curing the fault.

My son, who is big and strong and foolhardy, is a great believer in the heavy blow to the top of the device. This sometimes works but is a very temporary cure as the madness soon returns.

My daughter likes to ensure the plug is in properly then turns the telly off and then back on. This works but again relief is temporary.

I am old school. I firmly believe that all electrical appliances are the devil's work and are best left alone. They either cure themselves or don't and there is nothing that can be done about it.

My wife is gifted with a more lateral-thinking mind and has found the best remedy. She thumps the arm of the sofa.

How she stumbled on this solution is unknown, even to her.

I suspect it started as an indication of her exasperation when George Clooney (aka Gorgeous George) disappeared from her screen, mid-drool.

Several heavy-duty punches to the innocent item of furniture brought the handsome Hollywood hunk back to his beaming best and the telly stayed sober for the rest of the night.

Of course, this cannot go on. My wife is not that strong, George Clooney is not always on and, anyway, sometimes I watch telly when she is not there — I particularly like the documentaries on catching crabs in the Bering Sea which she seems happy to miss — and it seems I don't have the right touch as my sofa-bashing has no impact whatsoever. Watching trawlers bouncing up and down on the sea on a TV screen that's bouncing up and down is doubly sea-sickness inducing.

So, a new telly it has to be. The current occupant of the front room corner alcove is a low-tech, fat-screen model with state-of- the-art buttons and a remote control zapper that sometimes works if you can persuade the dog to move.

Not a big telly watcher, Jack the dog has a body roughly the same length as the TV. His favourite snoozing spot is stretched out under the television, which means his hairy hulk blocks off the zapper's rays, making changing channels a bit of a pain.

He seems oblivious to our pleas to move and just snores all the more loudly as we reach over him for the manual controls.

Walking home from work on these dark nights I have noticed many people have overcome the sleeping dog problem by hoisting their telly screens on to the wall over the fireplace.

Sadly our old and small Victorian terrace house has rooms not suitable for cat-swinging let alone wall-mounted TVs.

Of course a new telly will not necessarily solve the Jack-on-the-box problem.

Maybe if my wife kicks the armchair...?