Thank God Celebrity Big Brother is over! 3 weeks of intense viewing and I'm a wreck. The best series ever and an emotional roller coaster from the minute they handcuffed Jim Davidson to Linda Nolan whilst we were still nursing our Hogmany hangovers.
The show was a PR coup for Davidson and Dappy. Two men with a chequered past who took a massive gamble but played the public just right to emerge as our winner and runner up. Within the space of 3 weeks it became almost a crime to have a bad word to say about the poor downtrodden old man and the performing monkey. Did the leopards really change their spots or are we so sucked into celebrity and marketing that we're blinded by what we're served up on our 50" HD screens every night.
It's ironic that an immature doofus like Lee Ryan has become the most hated man in the UK for falling for 2 pretty girls in the house. While Davidson and Dappy are now hailed as the people's champions, Ryan is getting death threats on Twitter. How did that happen?
It seems that fame has a strange affect on us these days. Violent and immoral behaviour is ignored if you're bankable or have a level of sporting prowess. If you're good at making movies or can kick a ball quite well then the public and your peers will happily turn a blind eye and bestow you with plaudits for what you can do on the screen or on the sports field. This is particularly prevalent in the world of football where the terraces will forgive any crimes and misdemeanours until a 'hero' transfers to another team. Then the pitchforks are out and the baying mass of matching woolly hats attack them like they'd just strangled a basket of puppies.
50 years ago a government was brought down because an MP was shagging a topless model. How did our morals and standards change so dramatically over two generations?
Talking of low standards. I tuned in to Splash last night. Vernon and Gabby have about as much on screen chemistry as a couple of ironing boards. Poor Tom Daley is never quite sure where the auto-cue is so he's relegated to posing in his wet Speedos and trying hard not to look at Keith Duffy's bulge. Keith was there for the Craic and he didn't let us down. His crack was bared on both dives as his skimpy trunks slipped off as he plunged into the pool. I bet they were high fiving in the production box. Isn't that the only reason for having that underwater camera? Tom disappeared for about 20 minutes. No doubt rewinding that shot on his iPhone in the loo.
Gabby kept saying you could feel the tension in the pool. Such a shame that doesn't transfer to the viewers.
Why are we obsessed with watching famous people doing stuff badly? Does it make us feel good about ourselves? We'd rather watch Danielle Lloyd belly flop and bruise her tits than be made to feel inferior by some dedicated athlete striving for perfection.
And that brings me to The Jump. Channel 4's new hit celebrity show. Davina McCall mugging to the camera with a bunch of reality TV whores in day-glo spandex. The show is built around a final death defying ski jump. The trouble with this concept is that the final jump-off looks about as scary as stepping off a pavement. Why the hell did Sir Steven Redgrave sign up for this? One of our greatest sporting heroes reduced to racing down a hill with Anthea Turner on a dinner tray. Maybe he just got his 2013 tax bill?
Last and probably least is the new and revamped series of The Voice. The first 2 series didn't go well. Something had to done. They got rid of the annoying woman and the irritating no-name on the end. Trouble is they've replaced them with another annoying woman and an equally irritating band boy. I LOVE Kylie but she should never have exposed herself on this dire show. Her outrageous flirting with the male contestants is just cringe-worthy. However the main problem with this show is the 'voice'. I don't know where the production team get these people from. I guess there's not a queue banging on the door for a show that has no interest in a performer beyond the final programme. Maybe if The Voice does manage to find a star there might be a few more decent singers showing up at the auditions. A pair of tone-deaf twins, a wailing shoe artist covered in oranges and an old busker with the wife on a flute. The Voice....my arse.
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