WHEN the anthropologist Margaret Mead published her early essay on the first reality television show, An American Family, she described the genre as "a new kind of art form".

The 1973 show, which followed a middle-class California family, was an early precursor to the Big Brothers and Survivors and Strictlies that came long after.  

An American Family even foreshadowed the trend of breakout stars, participants becoming celebrities in the wake of their shows. Lance Loud, the oldest son, was famous following the 12-part series, becoming the world's first openly gay TV star.

Dr Mead said this television development was "as significant as the invention of drama or the novel".  

Now, lockdown has brought us a new twist on Dr Mead's art form. A micro-genre, a reality television for the lockdown era: the unwitting video call star.

Reality in its truest sense, and television in its laptop or phone-based modern sense, the viral Zoom star is the genre of the age.

There have been people caught going to the loo while the camera was still running; an interview on the BBC recently raised blushes when viewers spotted a pink penis on the bookshelf behind her.

There have always been viral clips of folk doing the funniest things, but the lockdown age has given us acres of additional time online both to appear in faux pas footage and to peruse it.

This week the nation has tuned in as one to watch a lawyer humiliate himself by appearing before a judge without having groomed his whiskers.

No matter how many years of law school, nor how illustrious a career, unless things go truly terribly for Texas prosecutor Rod Ponton, he will forever be known as the kitten guy.

Mr Ponton got to his virtual feet behind a Zoom filter that turned him into a wide eyed, fluffy faced kitten, compelling him to announce to the judge, "I am not a cat".

There but, you think, while tuning in for the latest instalment, for the grace of God.  

The true breakout star of reality Zoomvision this week is, of course, Jackie Weaver.

Ms Weaver, who has authority in spades, was the heroine of a leaked Zoom meeting of a Cheshire parish council that ended up ricocheting around the internet.

Such was the public interest in December’s Extraordinary Meeting of Handforth parish council’s planning and environment committee, that last Thursday night folk were watching the video on their phones and on Friday morning were listening to Ms Weaver on Woman's Hour on Radio 4.

They were watching her on BBC News. They were seeing her welcomed to Good Morning Britain by Piers Morgan. Her rolling fame shows no signs of slowing - this week Andrew Lloyd Webber has written a tribute show tune to the woman. Truly, one never knows what's around the corner.

Ms Weaver was there to wrangle a bunch of rowdy parish council members who failed to accept her authority and yelled at her to read the standing orders and understand them. 

A nation held its breath as she moved the worst offenders into a digital waiting room. In the background, someone took a phone call and a toilet was heard flushing. It was marvellous.

The response has been one of wholehearted admiration for Jackie. There have been think pieces and radio chatter about whether she is a feminist icon for her actions and discussions of whether the men would have been so aggressive were she too a man. 

What strikes me about the whole affair, though, is the slightly patronising tone in which the parish council is discussed. Local groups such as this might struggle to raise a quorum yet here is a global audience tuning in, gripped, while also smirking ironically at the idea of finding a local meeting interesting. 

Well, all hail to the local heroes who turn out to take an active interest in their local communities. 

You'll struggle to watch a current affairs programme or listen to a radio discussion of the Alex Salmond inquiry or of the Gender Recognition Act without a pundit pointing out that the general public has limited interest in these big issues.

They grip, goes the oft repeated line, only those with a nerdy interest in politics. Or activists, or journalists.
It's a dangerous game to assume what the public, the mutli-hued, many striped and polka dotted public, are interested in or not.

I suspect they are far more engaged, depending on circumstances, with these thorny topics than commentators might believe.  

In saying that, let me tell you what people are certainly interested in. On a podcast I took part in a few months ago one of the hosts expressed frustration that TV reporters were out at the scene of such hyper local problems as, say, council boundaries that meant one side of the street could go to the pub while the other side of the street was under stay-at-home orders.

Who cares?! went the cry. What about the big, important issues? 

That's all very worthy but people care about the local issues. They want to know that Brexit fishing rights in British waters are being properly negotiated and that an inquiry will uncover whether more lives in care homes could have been saved. 

But few people are fishermen and not everyone has a loved one in a care home. For the minority these are pressing, vital issues. For the majority they are important but largely abstract.

Everyone, though, has a bin. Have you ever had a row with a neighbour over a wheelie bin? Makes Handforth parish council seem like a tea dance. 

Rubbish, potholes and parking. These are the things of universal interest and these are the things community councils and parish councils deal with, alongside all the meatier issues.

Handforth isn't showing local democracy in its best light. Ms Weaver was parachuted in to try to sort out an acrimonious, bullying mess that seems to have been brewing for some time. And yes, if you have ever been part of a local council you will recognise the characters from Handforth, and you will know them.

But, despite the loggerheads and the petty regicides local governance attracts, all hail to the folk who pitch in and make the effort to be involved. Those are the folks sorting out the street lights and the pavements you walk along and under without a second thought. 

Handforth's reality Zoomivision might not be the best recruitment video for community involvement but we should take a moment to recognise that here are people rolling up their sleeves to make local communities more liveable.

Read the minutes and understand that.