I subjected myself to the latest talent show offering from the BBC over the weekend - The One and Only. And then, horrified, I found myself enjoying it.
After viewing fluff of this kind, your head tends to devolve into a kind of goo. It’s television sticking it’s head out of it’s own anus and saying ‘fuck you!’ to the viewer while spitting poo onto the carpet. But it’s so easily digestable and so simple to absorb, it rolls over you like a numb duvet.
Hosted by rentapillock, Graham Norton, Britain’s greatest tribute acts battle it out over eight weeks to win the title of ‘Britain’s One and Only Greatest Tribute Act’. Think of winning that title. It makes your balls-ache, your lips quiver and your bumhole do a squelch. Moist!
How far has TV come with this trend for bastardising that old-classic-that was-actually-always-shit, New Faces? I’ll tell you how far: TV has taken Stars in their Eyes and strung it up by its neck, nude. And now, having gently squeezed its balls in a threatening manner, he’s now got them gripped in his fist as New Faces howls with a guttural yelp.
I actually found myself rooting for one or two of the contestants. Rather than being auditioned on camera like some of the obviously talentless idiots on Cowell’s X Factor, we only see three of the best from each category fighting it out. And when you consider that these people might make a career out of a sprinkling of success in the competition (i.e. a few more pub bookings), it actually puts X Factor to shame. Michelle McManus, where are you now?
My favourite moment last Saturday was when lovable ginger wigga Moni fought off the competition to win the Lionel Richie category, selected by three members of Lionel’s fan club. That’s right. I was spiritually lifted on a Saturday night by a ginger man pretending to be an 80s soul singer. If you think too hard about that, you start eyeing up knives and regarding them as wrist-slitters rather than handy food-slicers.
On the other hand, I was gutted when the superfans selected the WRONG Rod Stewart. It was an ageist choice, based not on talent but on the hollow appeal of youth. I actually shouted at the screen.
‘YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG ROD’, I hollered, before running to the window and shouting my opinion to the world.
‘THEY’VE GOT THE WRONG ROD’.
So, as you can see, I’ve allowed myself to get too involved, too quickly. It’ll only end in tears, once this sublime honeymoon period has worn off. As it stands, I’m just looking forward to my next date with Graham Norton on Saturday night. Coo-ee!
12 Comments
I managed to avoid this on Saturday but it drew me in via the sick vortex of ‘catch up’ on cable telly. What a treat! I fast forwarded through most of it, so managed to cut the whole thing down to about 37 minutes, which is quite acceptable. Norton was clearly disappointed that the Madonnas didn’t all start squealing and tearing at each other’s wigs and lacy gloves.
Still ever so slightly haunted by that LR superfan ‘I want them to speak to me the way Lionel does’. Via a restraining order, presumably.
The wrong Rod needs to be righted – another petition perhaps? It’s clearly worked for Winston….
Yes – the Winston petition (with a massive THREE signatures) has resulted in him being ‘whited up’ – he now plays ex copper and brother of Max – Jack Branning. Amazing prosthetics and make up. And it’s all because of us WWM bastards.
Do you agree with my Wrong Rod theory? It’s a fucking disgrace.
Jesus, when I read I get all voices in my head
AM I NORMALZ
I couldn’t be bothered to read this one. Is it any good?
That’s not very nice.
Max Branning is being played by Lionel Richie, who magically transforms himself from frizzy haired soul singer into a balding cockernee ginger potato head. And take no notice of them, *clasps SW to not inconsiderable bosom*
There you go, SOMEBODY had to be first to mention tits
*muffled yelp*
Granville, f-f-f-f-f-fetch your cloth
It’s been a funny day
How much are your large bloomers?
I thought I had mentioned tits today? Must be slacking.
They might have got the wrong Rod, but glad they got the right Dusty