Reality Killed the Couch Potato

I left a garden bathed in sunshine this afternoon, a gripping book and an unusually comfortable deckchair to come inside and watch Britain's Got Talent. It didn't strike me as odd at first - I had missed the first in the series last night in favour of watching Harry Potter so it seemed reasonable to catch up as soon as possible. However, half-way through watching a woman encourage her Border Collies to prance in unison while she shuffled in small circles, dressed in a delightful sequined ensemble, I wondered what on earth I was doing. And more chillingly perhaps, it got me wondering just how many hours I had devoted to the wide variety of reality TV shows since they had appeared and bred like insatiable bunnies in the late nineties.

'Hear Say' - remember them?

Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to remember Pop Stars being the relatively small snowball that was pitched from the top of the reality TV hill. As I recall, the set up became the hallmark for all other talent shows dreamed up since: judges, a stage, ten to fifteen hopeful teenagers with bad haircuts and a smug presenter to hug them as they cried after each performance. Of course the budgets are phenomenal these days so the setting is more Royal Albert Hall than Local Community Centre but the principal remains the same. Hear'Say won Popstars and went on to have mediocre success with cheesy renditions of Simon and Garfunkel hits and of course, the classic 'Pure and Simple' which, when teamed with an awkward Billie Piper style dance routine, was an instant hit. I, along with much of the country, was totally taken in by Popstars and became passionate about my preferences, who should win and who was shite. The 'band' inevitably broke up, allowing a few of the members some small independent success. Two went on to soap acting and Mylene Klass continues in her quest to become the UK's most sickly-sweet television darling - intermittently appearing with no good reason on whatever show ITV feels needs a curvey brunette thrown in for good measure.

Pop Idol soon followed, inflicting the likes of Will Young and Gareth Gates on the nation's music scene - and then of course Popstars: The Rivals, which gave birth to 'Girls Aloud'. BBC threw their own version into the mix with Fame Academy which claimed to be a more earthy, legitimate avenue for potential recording artists, but let's face it - the objective was always to obtain as many telephone votes as humanly possible to give the broadcaster a nice big cash injection on a Saturday night. I think the only 'talent contest' that could genuinely claim to be about discovering British music talent was the one Jo Wiley put together a few years ago... which I... erm... can't remember the name of. It seems I'm exactly like the rest of the population - if the gimmicks, sob-stories and unnecessarily long results shows aren't present, I lose interest fairly quickly. Who wants real talent when there's drama to be had? Point illustrated beautifully by the full-circle of 'Girls Aloud' star Cheryl Cole now judging Simon Cowell's X Factor, despite having marginal vocal ability at best. But then, she looks good in a dress, has sparkly teeth and cries tiny diamonds from big soulful eyes so who cares if she is to judges what cat poo is to grass?

Then there was Channel 4's big 'psychological experiment' Big Brother - originally pitched as a study of human nature under adverse conditions. I have absolutely no idea if that's actually how the whole thing started, but what we finished up with was an hour a night of potential Jeremy Kyle candidates spewing forth the very best in ignorant opinion while 4's execs and the rest of the British public sat back and laughed at their minimal education, fake boobs and childish tantrums. I think the first series began with a hint of credibility, but by season god-knows-what when they finally pulled the plug, it really was a prime example of shameless exploitation and country-wide bullying. One only needs to review the last few months of Jade Goody's life to be utterly sickened by the fickle and degrading nature of Big Brother - and ultimately, Channel 4's glee in glamorizing, then pulverising a misguided adolescents' search for easy stardom. I'd go on, but I think Parky summed it up beautifully in the article he wrote about it at the time:

"Jade Goody has her own place in the history of television and, while it’s significant, it’s nothing to be proud of. Her death is as sad as the death of any young person, but it’s not the passing of a martyr or a saint or, God help us, Princess Di.
“When we clear the media smoke screen from around her death, what we’re left with is a woman who came to represent all that’s paltry and wretched about Britain today.

“She was brought up on a sink estate, as a child came to know drugs and crime, was barely educated, ignorant and puerile. Then she was projected to celebrity by Big Brother and became a media chattel to be exploited till the day she died.”

He came under fire for this, of course - but I'll challenge anyone to give me a true account of having admired, revered or watched Goody for any other reason than her extraordinary ability to shout down anyone else in a room - usually with something idiotic or racist.

We now have a plethora of reality TV - accessible at any time of the day.

I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here - which I always think is put to D-list celebrities by way of: "No honestly, the public will love you again. You've got a second shot at fame - you've just got to want it enough to sleep with rats, let spiders crawl on your face and eat kangaroo testicles. Sign here."

Come Dine With Me  - genuinely entertaining to watch, but I was sad to hear from a friend who took part how horribly staged the whole thing is.

Britain's Best Dish, Strictly Come Dancing, Dancing on Ice, So You Think You Can Dance?, Coach Trip, 60 Minute Makeover, How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?, Sing if You Can, American Idol, The Biggest Loser, and so on.  The list appears to be endless.

Reality TV seems to have completely taken over. There's always a prize and the candidates are invariably picked on personality rather than talent or credibility. But then, of course they are - we can trace the origins of such programs right back to the veteran chat-shows. Which would you rather watch out of the following:

 - Likable, law-abiding family man has small problem completing his tax-return
 - Feared and coked-up midget cheats on wife with cousin before revealing he's actually a woman

You chose the midget one too, huh? I am placing myself squarely among the masses here. Despite this little diatribe, I will be settling down in front of Britain's Got Talent this evening to see if there are any better dancing dogs, Fred and Rose West look-a-like bell-ringers or dancing grandads. Because it really is so very entertaining. I'm just not sure I like what that says about me...