Sam Cooke, George Jones, Elton John and Tom Waits have all sung of the importance of Saturday night, but in my experience, Friday night has invariably been the one that delivers.
The big social events are always on Saturday nights, the ones planned and plotted for weeks ahead, when surprises are sprung, celebrations saluted and astonishing clothes worn.
Friday nights are instinctive and accidental - unplanned evenings beginning with the words, "How about we. . ." , and ending in stories you can dine out on forever.
Why then, given I am fully aware of the power of Friday night and have a fat sack of salacious stories as evidence, am I at present spending my Friday nights as a sofa monkey staring zombie-eyed at what is unarguably the stupidest television night of the week? Am I growing old or am I growing stupid?The channel strategists have decreed that Friday night is when they will run shows about models, fashion, dating, innuendo comedy and Idol contests.
Right now I am watching an hour of America's Next Top Model followed by two hours of Australian Idol.
I embraced life-threatening drinking games in the '70s that played less havoc with my body than these three hours.
At least The Bachelor has finished.
How wretched was that? Nearly as wretched as Rock Of Love Bus, that's how.
The American model show, despite Sheena, is nowhere near as funny as the recently-concluded New Zealand's Next Top Model, which split my sides for three months, although in fairness, the winner, Christobelle, was quality.
Even better, her mum, Josephine Grierson, once wrote a book on Bob Jones, and has since triumphed over the Eric Watson empire in court.
Classy.
But Australian Idol is the jewel in Friday night's tawdry crown.
The judges are mediocre, and yet not without incident.
Kyle Sandilands was resident Rude Judge until he behaved like that off-camera, twice, and was sacked.
Outrageously, but she wasn't sacked, Marcia Hines criticised a white singer for singing soul because he wasn't black, ironic stuff indeed for Australia.
And if veteran judge Dicko, a cheery misogynist, was named Dicko at birth, then his parents are very smart for working him out so quickly.
I liked Sabrina the most, but she was cruelly tossed last Friday night.
Sabrina, no more than two feet high, had been a national treasure as a child and later performed in huge stage shows.
She then fell into a trough of black depression and gave up singing altogether.
But therapy and Australian Idol brought her back into the sunlight.
Sabrina was the best performer in the competition and had a freak voice.
Unfortunately she was also obnoxious, played every needy and anguished card in the pack, and really should have been gaffer-taped once the singing stopped.
Australia hated her.
But there are some interesting ones left.
Humble Toby, the teacher, is constantly shown singing with his class.
He's probably singing Kumbaya.
Dicko thinks he's alternative.
Australia loves Toby.
I don't.
Scott has only ever sung in public on Australian Idol.
Wow.
Stan came from the gangs of South Auckland and is now a Christian in Queensland.
Great voice, and he's stopped giggling.
Good.
Nathan is like Adam from American Idol, Freddie mercurial.
Why didn't Adam win American Idol? James is cute and has moves that send the teenage girl voters, the majority, straight to their cellphones.
He is like Kris from American Idol.
Why did Kris win American Idol? Kate, very likeable, calls everyone mate and could pass for an early Topp Twin, while Hayley looks like Tom Petty and loves to rock.
She's fun.
I like the way she peers at the judges trying to understand what they are saying.
I don't think I am growing stupid.
There is a line that says growing old is when you bend down to tie a shoelace and you wonder what else you can do while you're down there.
Well, I watch Friday night television.
