This overblown rant was written on Sunday May 31st, which explains the references to 'this morning' and 'yesterday' that would otherwise seem a little ridiculous.
Supplementing Gordon Brown's hasty appearance on breakfast television this morning, in which he assured us all that something 'will be done' about the expenses scandal ('drastic reform! DRASTIC REFORM!'), was the 'news' that Diversity, that ragtag collective of robotic dancers and superhero wannabes, have come out victorious in the 2009 final of the UK's most record-breakingly irritating 'star-maker' show Britain's Got Shitting Talent. Putting aside the fact that this is not actual news for the moment - in fact, it's about as newsworthy as my mother's latest ingrowing toenail - the most objectionable element of the whole report was undoubtedly the commentary that appended it, in which a clearly bewildered BBC reporter was forced to listen the abhorrently insipid ramblings of a pair of self-professed media dahlings, desperately trying to justify the show's existence; to validate it as being somehow 'culturally significant'.
On and on they went, repeatedly emphasising how 'fun' it all is and, most depressingly of all, how we 'need the show in these dark times.' Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Britain's Got Talent is saving the UK from the recession by making everyone forget about their redundancies, unemployment and inability to pay the bills for an hour, and letting us concentrate on a bunch of horrendously manipulated, shockingly manufactured individuals instead. And before you start, yes, they are manufactured. Don't deny it. However genuine Susan Boyle's vocal talents may be, they've made the bloody woman over for God's sake! And that sob story vignette aired before her first performance? A master class of viewer manipulation, designed to paint her as the underdog and get every whimperingly empathetic viewer rallying behind her.
Mind, at least this narrative (uh huh, that's what it is, don't kid yourselves) played on our positive emotions. For about three quarters of the programme's duration, we're encouraged to point and laugh at many of those who put themselves forward for an audition. The production crew know exactly what's walking out onto that stage; nine times out of ten they know just how horrible some of the 'talent' on display actually is. And yet, these poor unfortunate souls are allowed to make complete tits of themselves on national television... and we're encouraged to ridicule them! We're supposed to think it's a jolly old hoot seeing four washed up has-beens with as much cultural worth as my left armpit, tearing members of the general public apart on live television, belittling them so much that it often drives them to tears. I'm sorry, but just where, exactly, is the pleasure in all of this? Huh? What is so fucking fun about it?
If this is the 'solution' to these 'dark times', then frankly, I'll take the credit crunch any day. I'd rather worry about how I'm going to get a job than either be vindictive about my fellow man or cheer on a bunch of cleverly orchestrated stories with a few talented, but manipulated, members of the public at their core. According to one of the 'experts' on the BBC's report, a Mr. Iain Aitch, this makes me something of an alien. Aitch, you see, is an 'expert on being British' - it even says so under his name at the bottom of the screen.. you know, the place where they usually put job titles, where you'd see 'Prime Minister' under Gordon Brown or 'trumped up little squirt', sorry, 'TV presenter/columnist' under Jeremy Clarkson. He seems to think that the show reflects us as a society, that all of us properly 'British' people take great delight and joy in watching every sorry, torrid minute of it. Well, I'm sorry, but what makes this guy so qualified to talk about the feelings of an entire nation? Exactly how is he an 'expert' on Britishness? Did he attend Britishness School? Does he have a PhD in it? And what exactly does his job entail? Sitting at home, dreaming up worthless comparatives about how everything reflects 'us' as a society? Wandering the streets of Great Britain, asking people how 'British' they feel? How much is this man being paid for this hopelessly pointless role? Where did the BBC pluck him from? And why should we listen to a single word that comes out of his foetid, shit-spewing little mouth?
See, all of this just depresses me. Instead of taking my mind off the catastrophic financial climate, Britain's Got Talent (and the BBC) is just sending me further and further into a pit of agonising despair, in which there appears to be absolutely no hope whatsoever for this vindictive, vacuous nation. And then I remind myself that no, it isn't all doom and gloom. There is at least some light at the end of the tunnel: Britain does have talent, it just isn't to be found on some sorry excuse for a programme. Instead of sitting at home on a Saturday night and ogling the buffoons, creaming yourselves about just how vicious that redundant fuckwit Simon Cowell is going to be on this week's episode, how about popping down to your local, or the town centre, where a bunch of real people, real talented people, are working their arses off, expressing their artistry? The local bands doing the rounds of the various pubs, the artists displaying their work in the tiniest of galleries, the poets giving readings to one man and his dog. These are the people you should be supporting, not just the latest underdog story on prime time ITV. It's not such a shock that Britain's got talent; it's everywhere. It's in your town, it's on your streets, it's in your kids and, most probably, it's in yourselves. And surely you don't need some pretentious arseholes on the Beeb, or Piers fucking Morgan, to tell you that.
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