Why BBC, why Strictly Come Dancing?

The BBC continues to pretend that it's not as cheap and horrible as ITV with a reality show which is about as good as X-Factor but dressese better and talks more proper don't it?

Bruce Forsyth, animated through black magic and clever puppetry, presents the series once again with Tess Daly, a woman whose choice of dress resembles my ideal choice of potato storage; sturdy sacks.
So we have once more embarked on the C-List Celebrity adventure that is ball room dancing. Boring couples who have been with each other for 25+ years can rekindle their love for each other now through a mutual love of televised dancing. Unfortunately though, it doesn't take much to realised that this is soft, pre-watershed porn for elderly couples. The old mans ticker takes a beating when he gets to see a bit of frolicking leg or breast, and the woman get to shuffle around at the idea of a mans bulging package beign thrust against her. With Srictly Come Dancing, everyone is very much winner.

Apart from those whose brain hasn't already dribbled down the side of their head of course. They won't really win here.

Like The X-Factor, a gormless team of brain cells have been clustered together to woop and clap whenever their electric collars are activated. The most hateable thing about shows like Strictly Come Dancing is the brain dead day in which the most meagre of achievements receive raptuous applause. It's disgustingly cheap sentiment, searing hot emotion, that gets poured into the seared eyes of the brain dead viewers. I will admit that sometimes the struggle that the celebs face in learning all those difficult dances really does tug at my heart strings, but that's usually just from my trying to tear it out, so that I can fucking die as quickly as possible and never have to see the BBC so shamelessly bend to public demand for shit-in-a-bucket television again.

Ask any of your friend's parents, and they will have a favourite contestant. They can connect with them. "Oh, isn't it great that he's doing that after the time he's had of it recently? Oh didn't you hear? His ex-wife had an affair with his ex-wife and now his ex-wife is his ex-wife"; brilliant. Marriage counsellors the world over take note, your clients need ballroom dancing. Especially if it makes their public image a bit softer and easier to swallow. Strictly Come Dancing is publicity honey for contestants who look a lot like crap sandwiches - but after this, they can expect a cushy career as week old milk presenting a holiday segment on GMTV; primo! The whole show is like watching a copy of Heat magazine melted down and injected into my veins before it's too late for me to notice and do anything about it.

When did the BBC start selling out so bad? I've always naively relyed on them for television that I respect. But as was well doucmented a few weeks ago on 'You Have Been Watching', programmes like 'The Romantics' are just shoddy soft porn (again) nightmares to appease the sad old tossers left watching the television at 7:30pm every night.

Oh. Wait. That's what I'm doing. Well, I have my whole life ahead of me and I'm not actually watching it, I can hear it in the lounge. But that's my point, for all these greying middle-aged couples, Strictly Come Dancing is a grim substitute for the nights they used to have out! A ready-meal, Radio 2 and the news at ten suddenly gets magically transformed into a wonderful night out, with dinner, and live music and dancing! Oh what a night, what a gala! What a mockery. The BBC are laughing at you.

So it seems we are all going to have to get used to the BBC peddling out this cheap old holiday camp television, where we all have a jolly good time, and we can all go "Oowh, don't she look nice in 'er dress?". No, she doesn't, she's a contrived product of clever, exploitative marketing, which has produced a television program that makes ketomine look like a very weak seditive with which to address headaches. I hope they all fail.

My final score... ZERO - dun dun! Strictly will never win the contest now!