Flipping through the channels this week, I landed on the Twilight Zone that is England in the time of the coronavirus.
We get their channels, but they don't get ours, so we are watching in real time, through a one-way mirror.
Holly and Phillip were on the couch, practically sitting on top of one another, it seemed to my virus-alert Irish eyes.
A stream of guests came into the 'This Morning' studio: there was an update on the soaps, a cookery slot and a fashion parade. There was even a viewers' prize of a family sunshine holiday. Where did they think they were going?
I contacted a cousin in London to see how that contingent of the family were coping with the crisis.
Here in Ireland, we had shut the pubs, banned all events, battened down the hatches and were crossing the street to avoid each other. Meanwhile in England - where half my father's siblings emigrated - the British government was putting hundreds of thousands of citizens' lives at risk by inaction.
Finally, today, Boris Johnson decided to take action and tell pubs, cafe's and restaurants to close.
"Do you want to get out of there before it's too late?" I asked him. "How is your mother, is she safe?"
He didn't seem to have a clue what I was on about. I'd say he must have thought I was having a nervous breakdown.
They knew nothing about the certain collapse of the health service due to the tsunami that would come without containment.
It was "just a flu", I was assured. Don't worry - only the very old and the terminally ill are at risk. We'll all get it and gain immunity. From this side of the water, it was baffling.
Over there, life was rattling on as normal - as the virus spread - in a freedom that already seems like a bygone age for us. They're stuck in a recent past of about a month ago.
How could they not know what's happening? A cursory Google search would reveal the truth. It's like they're sleep-walking into disaster.
Despite our history and our differences, I always thought the British and Irish had a lot in common, culturally and socially. We're nearest neighbours, there's a lot of crossover, and we share a sense of humour.
But our wildly divergent responses to this crisis have exposed the massive cultural chasm between Ireland and Britain.
It is quite unnerving to witness the UK in some collective state of denial, or ignorance - or both - in the face of an existential threat. Is it mass cognitive dissonance? A mentality of grandiosity? Blinkered arrogance? The ostrich approach? They're getting the mushroom treatment: kept in the dark and fed sh**e.
It's hard not to write them off as a bunch of ill-informed, deluded morons who'll kill us all. But when you look at the message being conveyed about Covid-19 from the three pillars of propaganda - media, politics and business - you can see how it's happened.
The UK editions of 'The Sun' and 'The Mirror' covered the coronavirus with stories about British holidaymakers' outrage at the pubs being closed in Benidorm, and a Liverpool bride-to-be's "nightmare" when her hen party in Spain was called off because the country went into a state of emergency. 'The Daily Mail' reported how British tourists there defied the lockdown and taunted police, chanting: "We've all got the virus, na, na, na, na."
A press release from a UK PR company informed me how local league football matches' attendances were up by 90pc since the Premier League shut down. This was supposedly good news in the same day as 55 deaths in Britain from coronavirus.
Trusted commentators are disingenuous in their message to the public on talk shows. Dr Hilary Jones went on 'Good Morning Britain' to claim Ireland was only taking such robust measures because it has no health service and boasted of Britain's NHS. It's known that Italy's health service was one of the strongest in the world, when Covid-19 wreaked havoc.
In this topsy-turvy world, one of the few public figures speaking truth on the coronavirus is Piers Morgan - and he is being dismissed as a crank.
It doesn't take a genius to work out that massive events are a bad idea in a pandemic - and, in my view, Cheltenham was reckless endangerment.
Yet just this past weekend, Stereophonics packed out the Motorpoint Arena in Cardiff for two nights, and Lewis Capaldi played to 11,000 people in Aberdeen. He tweeted: "Bring your hand sanitiser, cos it's going to get filthy!"
There's a cohort in Britain who appear to think we Irish are "hiding" from the virus, or obediently allowing ourselves to be coddled.
They think they're being brave with a "Blitz spirit" of "keep calm and carry on". But this war is different. It requires something challenging in a unique way: a long, hard slog of restricted freedoms by the healthy, to protect the vulnerable.
Cowardice is pretending it's not happening. What is brave is having the courage to take your head out of the sand - and to face up to the stark reality of what needs to be done.