It seems one can't turn the TV on these days without being bombarded by some massive twat who used to be in Brookside ice-skating the foxtrot or an ex-sportsman doing pirouettes in shiny chaps and a frilly chimmon yellow shirt. I am, of course, talking about the spate of reality/talent competitions that spawned from Big Brother 10 years ago and changed a generation of fashion-conscience teens in to a nation of untalented pop idolising dickheads.
With the odd exception - Diversity, Su-Bo, John Sargeant, Evander Holyfield it all seems such a massive waste of time. Why do people enjoy watching other people failing, I suppose its the same with soap operas and trashy magazines. They make you feel better about yourself and you're own life because you're the outsider looking into the goldfish bowl and they are the ones trapped inside begging to be set free, which just unleashes a further tidal wave of press interest. No no please don't photograph me topless on a foreign beach praticing cellulite-busting lunges with a guy I just met of the set of Emmerdale two weeks ago. I normally do this all by myself in my lounge with the curtains drawn. Oh the indecency!
It is a sad time we are living in when teenagers really do believe that Simon Cowell is not in fact the anti-christ, but a pop genius who knows all about what 'real' music is! A colleague's 15 year old step-son is so enthused about the show he apparently sky plusses it even though he watches every episode, presumably so he can go back over it and enjoy the David Lynch-esque mis-en-scene whenever he begins to reach for his step-dad's Joy Division albums without ever really knowing why! His sub-conscience has been so infused with adverts and manufactured crap that he truly believes he is a part of the 'musical genius' he is withnessing, when really he is helping to plot the downfall of Western Civilisation by not getting up on a cold January saturday morning, running around a frozen park with ten of his teammates and then going home to have a fantasy wank about Billy the winger's MILF of a mum, like we all used to do at his age. He should be ashamed of himself!
Rage Against The Machine's Killing in the Name Of which got to Xmas number 1 ahead of one of Cowell's winning X Factor pricks (which was and will be the best thing to come from Facebook ever!) was a significant slap in the face to this kind of 'entertainment', but wait, what's this - Simon Cowell has a high percentage stake in Rage's record label and benefits anyway? What a win/win wanker! Where's the fun in that? As Jarvis Cocker so fondly says: Cunts are still running the world - and it ain't gonna change any time (while there are still people who queue to go see Gareth Gates in p...in p...p...panto!) soon, so get used to it.
There is one way I would start watching these shows is that the contestants be sent out to former Soviet Siberian Gulag camps and be locked away in solitary confinement for 6 months with rival professionals (for example - Nancy Kerrigan's trainee Vs Tonya Harding's appraentice a la Rocky IV) to practice whatever competition it is they want to win. They are only allowed an hour of sunlight a day.
They will then be flown by private jet straight to a London studio as psychologically-vulnerable yet fine physical specimens ready to do battle to the death. Once they have performed the judges vote (50%) and then the public (50%). The loser (for example Paul Danan) has to work in ASDA, Milton Keynes for a year with no pay, or he's sent back to the gulag, while the winner (for example Dean Gaffney) goes on to the next stage (say a Wrestling competition with Hulk Hogan vs Ultimate Warrior as trainers).
But here is the twist, the winning coach (ie Kerrigan) gets to X-ecute the losing coach (ie Harding) before the credits roll LIVE on TV. Think of the ratings - and the audience, the crowd will be like a Rugby one all sitting together and having a beer and enjoying the spectacle because (unlike woofter modern football) all the violence happens on the pitch and thus everyone goes home happy, rather than meeting outside for a good old rumble!
Just think what Blind-er Date would be like if the public voted for the couple they least liked out of say three who went on televised dates and that couple was then actually BLINDED on live TV. The people who are more likely to commit crimes and thus like this kind of show would never go out again, which would keep the government happy as crime and depravity drops on their city's streets a la 1984, while the good folk who are abhorred by what they see will all go out for fear of going insane with depression and buy stuff to keep the economy going! Now talk about an idyll! Until this becomes reality I will shun reality/talent shows in favour of a good old five knuckle shuffle, just like when I was fifteen and enjoying my life, rather than sordidly revelling in someone else's!
Right I'm off to meet Toni Terry for a pint and maybe more, so until next week take care of yourself...and each other, as we're all we have left!