YOU know you’re out of touch with popular culture when you read about the fabulous, unmissable remake of some film or TV show, then realise you haven’t quite got round to seeing the original. It happens to me a lot these days. Whether that reflects the turnover rate in the studios or my good luck in being switched off from most of what passes for entertainment, I’m not sure.

Of course, they aren’t called remakes these days. They are “re-workings” or heaven help us, “re-imaginings.” They are full of special effects, thin on plot, heavy on violence and rarely a patch on the original.

They don’t fill any artistic void. They’re there to make money. Perhaps, they’re also a sign that in our 24-hour, non-stop, multichannel world, the entertainment industry is running a little short of ideas.

They’re not the only indication of creative fatigue. When Jeremy Clarkson made his idiotic remarks about shooting public sector strikers the other night, I imagine a handful of people were genuinely annoyed. Maybe one or two even found them funny.

But I am sure most people’s reaction was one of complete indifference. It was Clarkson having a rant again. If it wasn’t the strikers it would be something else, why should I bother.

I suspect it is a similar situation when Ricky Gervais makes stupid, insensitive remarks about people with a learning difficulty or when Frankie Boyle offends, well just anyone you can think of. If it wasn’t them it would be someone else out to make a name for themselves the easy way.

When I hear people talk like this I don’t think they are being controversial or brave.

I don’t think they are pushing back the barriers or being challenging.

Frankly, I think they are being boring and silly. They have run out of ideas and camouflage this failure by playing a little game with the media.

The rules are simple. Say something outrageous then sit back and wait for a tabloid to kick up a stink. Enlist a few showbiz mates to back you, start a superficial debate in which terms like censorship and artistic freedom are bandied about and when you can’t milk the situation any more, make a half-hearted apology.

Then sit back and work out how much free publicity you’ve generated for your new DVD.

Good art, whether it’s comedy or high culture, should be challenging. But if it has us reaching for the off button, it has failed.

I am sure that Ken Russell, who died this week, was hugely gifted, yet I have never been able to sit through one of his films.

Most of them had moments of great perception, genius even, but sooner or later they would go over the top and I couldn’t take any more. They were the work of someone who ultimately preferred indulging himself and hitting the headlines to relating to his audience.

Over-exposure, in more senses than one, was his downfall. If I was a parent of a child with Down’s syndrome, I would be pretty angry at Ricky Gervais. But I would be far more worried if my children encountered prejudice in the playground, street or workplace.

That is because we live in the real world not the artificial universe of the media. Like many people reading this, I suspect, I can still remember the wonderful days when you could turn on a TV and nothing appeared.

Perhaps a return to those days would lead to greater creativity and originality and less playing to a gallery that is growing ever more impatient with the act.