It seems only fitting that on the day that ITV announce that the Jeremy Kyle show has been cancelled for good, I should do a posting about television – specifically ‘factual’ series and the rather odd role that reality and truth play in their production sometimes.
Well I could sit here all smugly and write about how unbelievably good England’s performance was last night. Even the Donald seemed surprised to see us qualify for the next stage after just two matches. Ordinarily of course we’d be out by this stage, ignominiously beaten by some minnow nation. But not last night as we put the rugby players from Panama to the sword. And yes Donald, Harry Kane is now the leading scorer in the tournament, impressive huh?
So here’s the thing. We’ve been watching the BBC’s Springwatch programme from the Sherbourne estate in the Cotswolds. We love its capturing of the nature scene at this most fertile time of the year. The features on the birdlife are especially captivating. But this posting isn’t about the nature; it’s about the bloody BBCness that pervades the programme. It’s like watching a Corbynista nature park. Let me explain…
Well I said there was a risk of the last post being viewed as offensive and it proved to be. My daughter E gave me a right lambasting when I popped over this afternoon. She thought the posting was homophobic and just not worthy. Yep fair enough, possibly guilty m’lud. It is clearly being viewed that way which disappoints me hugely, not least because after writing it I reflected and immediately added a para to clarify my thinking which I thought helped articulate where I was coming from. Whether people have read that I don’t know. If not please check out this link again and then decide.
Now I could be in trouble with this posting. I don’t want to offend but fear I might. You see we’ve been watching Strictly like everyone else for what seeems like the last 5 months and I have to say it’s been enjoyable. I especially loved it when Debbie McGee got to do the dance off. She’s not my favourite to be honest. For someone who looks like a crinkly pringle, she takes herself far too seriously as a dancer and her facial reaction on hearing that news that she might be heading out of the competition was just indescribably mouth-watering. Not that pringles have that effect on me normally. Continue reading
So this morning I was watching something on C4, probably Frasier, when at the end of the programme the continuity announcer informed us that later this evening is the start of a super new series (note, not a one-off but a whole f**king series) about the life of cake maker Paul Hollywood. My ears started bleeding.
Words almost fail me but not quite. This is the cover for the new debut album from TV presenter-cum-builder Nick Knowles released just in time for Xmas. Sigh. You’d think to yourself who the f88k’s going to buy that pile of self-indulgent crap? Well his record company thinks 100,000s will. Eh?