"ITS BLAND AND UNENTERTAINING, IT LACKS PERSONALITY AND QUITE FRANKLY IM NOT IMPRESSED. I WOULDN'T WATCH THIS ON TELEVISION MATE, I REALLY WOULDN'T".
That was for anyone that had ever wondered what it would be like if the hosts of Master Chef reviewed their own show. They are big shouty nightmares, with all the charisma of wet lettuce, a fact that the pair of them make up for with big collars and swearing at sandwiches. I mean they don't actually swear but you can see they want to. They're so bold and brash, cookery shows are an almost theraputic observation of cooking, a visual enjoyment of food that makes me think "yeah, I'm gonna make that, I'm hungry".
Instead, Master Chef has two presenters bereft of any class or style and a female narrator who talks like people do when they suddenly touch something cold. She describes the food about as passionately as filling in a tax return, opting instead for a hollow and clinical description of exactly what the food contains, in what must be a misguided aim at 'food with status' e.g. Damian has constructed a futon of spinach for his north-atlantic lemon drizzled oxford educated salmon. It's all just crap.
And then of course Idiot 1 & Idiot 2 shout at the "contestant" and at the each other...I mean, contestant cookery shows shouldn't have contestants, cooking isn't competitive, it's an art!
Gordon Ramsey shouts, be it just seems less like a character defect; he is aware that he is shouting. The presenters on Master Chef seem like the kind of guys you would want to punch in the face at a bus stop. "WHERE'S THE BLOODY BUS, I HAVE A BIG APPOINTMENT WITH THE QUEEN" one of them explodes at no one at all. They are both incredibly detestable and this is not what cookery shows should be - but it gets worse.
Iron Chef is on it's way to England. Its presenter is a wine expert that you may have seen on Saturday Kitchen and he is something of an eccentric, a blow-hard with a taste for big words and pulling big faces. "AHA, to our main contestants who stand, poised and ready to fight in a battle of cooking prowess, titans of the kitchen, who will emerge victorious, etc, etc"...so, as if this farcical presenter for Iron Chef UK wasn't enough, here is the show itself.
Iron Chef is quintessentially American. They took your common cookery show and turned it into a Die Hard film. It has a samurai or ninja guy or something who adds a lot of tacky pseudo asian pazzazz to the affair. Then, in front of a huge studio audience, contestants cook UNDER A TIME LIMIT (oh because that's what cooking should be like) intensley and competitively. Then, and this is the worst bit, hundreds and thousands of graphics, explosions, sound-effects, literally slow-mo action replays of chopping vegetables, are all thrown into the mix and left to simmer; less a stew, more a stewpid.
Why Channel 4 thought this was a good idea is beyond me, but the British public won't go for this, unless I have under-estimated them. Come Dine With me is more our style. Like Master Chef, Iron Chef Uk is and will be a completely charmless stab at what producers think people want as they desperately try and find somewhere else to go in the world of television. Unnecessary fanfare and shouting are not it - that's why we don't all love the Go Compare Advert...we really fucking hate it and we mute it or turn it off. What next, strapping fireworks to the letters and attaching the clock to a huge time-bomb in Countdown? Please.
Although Countdown could do with a younger, hipper demographic. It needs to appeal to todays younger, more blood-thirsty word puzzlers. Oh and can we get Jeff Stelling to ride a skateboard? Get my pyrotechnic guy on the phone, let's a put a rocket up this mother! WOOSH!
Friday, 16 April 2010
Monday, 29 March 2010
Bye Honey, I'm Off to my TV Book Club.
"WHO AM I!?" cries The TV Book Club, the hideous schizophrenic monster show as it wearily drags itself up the Channel 4 satellite building.
The TV Book Club is a stupid persons clever show and has therefore found something like a home on More Four. More Four of course only shows television programmes that no one wants to watch. It's like Channel 4 saying, "I don't entirely have faith in you".
It's another show that really does it's best to get to know you and crawl into your home as part of your daily routine - like a nectar card. The TV Book Club thinks it's a nectar card. Because no one seems capable of actually ever meeting or speaking to each other in person in our modern society, The TV Book Club caters for people who don't know anyone and must therefore discuss their books with celebrities, instead of anyone they can actually touch, or smell.
So, if I wanted advice on a good book, I would ask a writer or a really keen reader. I would not at any point ask Gok Wan. If I want to know what colour pumps I should be wearing this summer, then boy howdy, he'd better be by the phone. In the meantime, he can keep his book opinions to himself.
The TV Book Club is too cliquey, I don't feel part of the gang. A specially selected elite of celebrities, two horribly unfunny comedians (Dave Spikey & Jo Brand, with her disgusting black & white glasses that make her look like she has a permanently raised eye-brow which, ironically, I also have when I watch The TV Book Club). There's Gok, and then a man and a woman that no one has ever seen before, but might have read some news or written a newspaper article before or something. Out of all these..."CELEBRITIES"...it is hard to work out which one is the presenter. Is it Jo Brand with her gentle, gentle humour? Is is the unknown bloke with the gi-GAN-tic face? Or is it Spikey with his...northern accent?
I can only hope that this ill-matched group of people solve mysteries in their spare time, because to watch them discuss books with a put-on sincerity and pretend interest in what they are doing is more than I can bare. Some mad scientist/market researcher obviously worked out how to appeal to the entirity of society by choosing a group of..."CELEBRITIES"...that can draw in every demographic around. Oh, apart from that key demographic, PEOPLE WHO CAN READ FOR THEMSELVES.
The TV Book Club is a pompous, fart of a show! It's full of hyperbole and hot air and emotionally manipulating musical renactments of the content of the books and it's just awful. It's like reading one of my English essays. The background is bland and they all sit round on a big DFS sponsored chair and it supposed to make me think "OO, now there's something that would enhance my lifestyle, I'm going to get a bottle of wine and invite my friends to start a book club with me" - on second thoughts, I'm going to drink a a beer and read something good. All they fucking do is review..."REVIEW"...books involving child abuse, or murder or painful personal growth. Yuck. Nobody wants to read that, they really don't, unless they're the most dull people I've ever met and I bet they are the wankers.
Of the show, Gok says: "I think the idea of a book club is to recommend a book or not, and I think I would recommend this book"
I say: "A good TV Show is one that doesn't make you want to throw books at the television in the hopes that one of them smashes the screen, and I think that The TV Book Club does quite the opposite of that"
And then the show ends with some ill-chosen dramatic violin nightmare. As I said, it's just awful.
The TV Book Club is a stupid persons clever show and has therefore found something like a home on More Four. More Four of course only shows television programmes that no one wants to watch. It's like Channel 4 saying, "I don't entirely have faith in you".
It's another show that really does it's best to get to know you and crawl into your home as part of your daily routine - like a nectar card. The TV Book Club thinks it's a nectar card. Because no one seems capable of actually ever meeting or speaking to each other in person in our modern society, The TV Book Club caters for people who don't know anyone and must therefore discuss their books with celebrities, instead of anyone they can actually touch, or smell.
So, if I wanted advice on a good book, I would ask a writer or a really keen reader. I would not at any point ask Gok Wan. If I want to know what colour pumps I should be wearing this summer, then boy howdy, he'd better be by the phone. In the meantime, he can keep his book opinions to himself.
The TV Book Club is too cliquey, I don't feel part of the gang. A specially selected elite of celebrities, two horribly unfunny comedians (Dave Spikey & Jo Brand, with her disgusting black & white glasses that make her look like she has a permanently raised eye-brow which, ironically, I also have when I watch The TV Book Club). There's Gok, and then a man and a woman that no one has ever seen before, but might have read some news or written a newspaper article before or something. Out of all these..."CELEBRITIES"...it is hard to work out which one is the presenter. Is it Jo Brand with her gentle, gentle humour? Is is the unknown bloke with the gi-GAN-tic face? Or is it Spikey with his...northern accent?
I can only hope that this ill-matched group of people solve mysteries in their spare time, because to watch them discuss books with a put-on sincerity and pretend interest in what they are doing is more than I can bare. Some mad scientist/market researcher obviously worked out how to appeal to the entirity of society by choosing a group of..."CELEBRITIES"...that can draw in every demographic around. Oh, apart from that key demographic, PEOPLE WHO CAN READ FOR THEMSELVES.
The TV Book Club is a pompous, fart of a show! It's full of hyperbole and hot air and emotionally manipulating musical renactments of the content of the books and it's just awful. It's like reading one of my English essays. The background is bland and they all sit round on a big DFS sponsored chair and it supposed to make me think "OO, now there's something that would enhance my lifestyle, I'm going to get a bottle of wine and invite my friends to start a book club with me" - on second thoughts, I'm going to drink a a beer and read something good. All they fucking do is review..."REVIEW"...books involving child abuse, or murder or painful personal growth. Yuck. Nobody wants to read that, they really don't, unless they're the most dull people I've ever met and I bet they are the wankers.
Of the show, Gok says: "I think the idea of a book club is to recommend a book or not, and I think I would recommend this book"
I say: "A good TV Show is one that doesn't make you want to throw books at the television in the hopes that one of them smashes the screen, and I think that The TV Book Club does quite the opposite of that"
And then the show ends with some ill-chosen dramatic violin nightmare. As I said, it's just awful.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Why The Simpsons Will Always Be Great.
As has been well documented, and exploited by Sky1, The Simpsons has recently turned 20. But at this presumably late stage in its life (I imagine that television shows age like dogs, or in the case of Gavin & Stacey, like hamsters) why do so many people end up criticising The Simpsons instead of venerating? I'm aware that a lot of people in the media have "celebrated" The Simpsons because of it's 20th year, but these are frequently the same people who condemn it on a regular basis for not being funny anymore and these nostalgic reviews of 'Televisions First Family' always contain something along the lines of "The Simpsons peaked many years ago".
I'm certainly not going to argue that the most recent series is as funny as series eight, that is, the series where Homer becomes the Beer Baron and where he has to deal with Frank Grimes - no, I am not going to suggest that the episodes of 2009/10 are as classic as that. But given the sheer brilliance of those old episodes, what I will demand from literally everyone is a little faith in The Simpsons.
Surely Matt Groening and co have earnt that haven't they? There is literally no television show in history that is as quotable or as memorable as The Simpsons. If you asked a room of twenty people what their favourtie episode was, ninteen of them would come up with a different one each. The twentieth one would be somebodies Mum, who never liked the Simpsons because they used the word 'butt' too much when you were an impressionable eight year old.
The Simpsons has frequently hit every single level of humour, it can be both high brow and low brow and also middle brow and mono-brow. Many people see Family Guy as its successor, but come on, well into its eighth season, it is obvious that Family Guy is already running out of steam. Why? Because it is far less dynamic than The Simpsons. Family Guy has one brand of comedy, it grows only one crop in its humour field, whilst The Simpsons ensures its longevity with the intelligence and variety in its scripts. Family Guy is clearly very easy to write, whereas The Simpsons is multi-layered, a forest gateaux to Family Guys pancake.
Comedy moves in trends, and Family Guy has very much surfed upon that trend (btw, I am a big Family Guy fan, and I am using it only as a singular example). The Simpsons has fallen by the wayside a little in modern times because it does not entirely follow the in-fashion comedy at the moment, that is, the surreal and the nonsensical. Comedy today is much more Adult Swim than...the...well, The Simpsons. Where The Simpsons slips down in modern times is when it tries to adhere to what people want, and you get odd random moments that just don't suit the show. You can see the same mistakes much more obviously in the new series of Futurama, which, if I may say so, was fucking terrible.
What I'm saying is, if you hear ANYONE saying that The Simpsons isn't funny, slap them in the face. Really hard. Because The Simpsons is the greatest television show ever made. Its cast of characters is huge and each one is brilliant, like your favourite episode, everyone has their own favourite character (one of mine is Moe, obviously - and you can't go wrong with a bit of Lenny).
The Simpsons is the most quotable show ever made and I given how much pure goodness they have dispensed our way for the past 20 years, I think a show of faith that they can go on recapturing what people believe to be the best work, is very little to ask. If you can find me any other show that will be able to traverse the dangerous waters of two decades-worth of television, then I will call you a liar, because you can't. Don't just celebrate 20 years of The Simpsons nostalgically, believe in it delivering quality comedy for years to come.
p.s. The Simpsons Movie WAS funny, those who say it wasn't ought to be thrown into a briefcase and drowned.
I'm certainly not going to argue that the most recent series is as funny as series eight, that is, the series where Homer becomes the Beer Baron and where he has to deal with Frank Grimes - no, I am not going to suggest that the episodes of 2009/10 are as classic as that. But given the sheer brilliance of those old episodes, what I will demand from literally everyone is a little faith in The Simpsons.
Surely Matt Groening and co have earnt that haven't they? There is literally no television show in history that is as quotable or as memorable as The Simpsons. If you asked a room of twenty people what their favourtie episode was, ninteen of them would come up with a different one each. The twentieth one would be somebodies Mum, who never liked the Simpsons because they used the word 'butt' too much when you were an impressionable eight year old.
The Simpsons has frequently hit every single level of humour, it can be both high brow and low brow and also middle brow and mono-brow. Many people see Family Guy as its successor, but come on, well into its eighth season, it is obvious that Family Guy is already running out of steam. Why? Because it is far less dynamic than The Simpsons. Family Guy has one brand of comedy, it grows only one crop in its humour field, whilst The Simpsons ensures its longevity with the intelligence and variety in its scripts. Family Guy is clearly very easy to write, whereas The Simpsons is multi-layered, a forest gateaux to Family Guys pancake.
Comedy moves in trends, and Family Guy has very much surfed upon that trend (btw, I am a big Family Guy fan, and I am using it only as a singular example). The Simpsons has fallen by the wayside a little in modern times because it does not entirely follow the in-fashion comedy at the moment, that is, the surreal and the nonsensical. Comedy today is much more Adult Swim than...the...well, The Simpsons. Where The Simpsons slips down in modern times is when it tries to adhere to what people want, and you get odd random moments that just don't suit the show. You can see the same mistakes much more obviously in the new series of Futurama, which, if I may say so, was fucking terrible.
What I'm saying is, if you hear ANYONE saying that The Simpsons isn't funny, slap them in the face. Really hard. Because The Simpsons is the greatest television show ever made. Its cast of characters is huge and each one is brilliant, like your favourite episode, everyone has their own favourite character (one of mine is Moe, obviously - and you can't go wrong with a bit of Lenny).
The Simpsons is the most quotable show ever made and I given how much pure goodness they have dispensed our way for the past 20 years, I think a show of faith that they can go on recapturing what people believe to be the best work, is very little to ask. If you can find me any other show that will be able to traverse the dangerous waters of two decades-worth of television, then I will call you a liar, because you can't. Don't just celebrate 20 years of The Simpsons nostalgically, believe in it delivering quality comedy for years to come.
p.s. The Simpsons Movie WAS funny, those who say it wasn't ought to be thrown into a briefcase and drowned.
Monday, 4 January 2010
Shutting the Fuck up About How Good Your iPhone is; is there an app for that too?
This was written some time ago, but is still relevant today:
Honestly. What sickens me most is how fucking DOWN with the kids iPhone thinks it is. "Boy" thought Apples hideously slimey marketing department one day "Aren't these kids the darnedest things" and all the suits nod so it continues "I mean just the other day I hear this one young fella, AFLUENT AS HELL, using a youthful colloquialism - I'm talking words that aren't real here. But he was the toast of the party, with his compatriots nodding in agreement and such" and then the marketing department guy walks up to the window and looks outside "And I think to myself - why can't we whore out that kind of lyrical genius huh? I mean, why not make up words like 'funnest' to describe our products - hell, they can relate to it!"
And so, a year later, I feel infuriated in an arm chair when I see that the new iSomething-or-other is being described as the "funnest" iPod ever. Brilliant.
Has anyone, EVER, thought to themselves while they were using their iPhone, "This is great and all, what with the device performing its function and all, but what I'd really like to do is move this glorified mP3 player and steer a rollercoaster, at the same time...*sigh* but I know that's just a pipe-dream, a crazy, crazy pipe-dream". WELL WISH NO MORE GUY, BECAUSE IF YOU CAN COUGH UP THE EXPLETIVE WORTHY SIMOLIANS TO BUY SUCH A FANCIFUL ITEM THEN YOU REALLY CAN STEER A ROLLERCOASTER! I'd buy one myself but I purchased a coca-cola last week and I'm a little strapped for cash.
What I hate about Apple is how bloody convenient they are trying to be. Life isn't convenient (ok?) and so the result is the advert equivalent of one of those waiters that keeps coming up to you to ask if everything is ok; everything ok sir, everything ok sir, everything o-fucking-k sir? NO!? Well no worries baby! Trousers on fire? Cleft palet? Lost the will to live? There's an app for that too! If it was me I'd tell him to fuck off and let me finish my soup in peace. BUT WHY EAT SOUP WHEN I CAN HAVE ALL THE NUTRIENTS FROM SOUP TELEPORTED DIRECTLY IN MY BLOODSTREAM, he'd say, IT'LL LEAVE YOU TIME TO DO ALL THOSE AFLUENT LEISURE ACTIVITIES YOU NEVER HAVE TIME FOR! *que me, snowboarding*
As ever Apples most recent advertising campaign features a song picked out by NME specialists so that it all sounds cool enough and unthreatening enough to convey a real easy-going, hip piece of technology, sorry, not technology, I mean, this hip-piece of life-support. I want my technology shiney and laden with golden buttons thankyou very much, not moseying up to my place at about half 2 in some low slung jeans and with a general shrug of it's casual shoulders "hey man, wanna latte, I know a place" - no, piss off, I'm throwing balls of paper into a bin in just my pants.
I mean for goodness sake, I am a human-being! I'm supposed to demand things of technology, not the other way round! Why am I suddenly "bumping fists" with somebody to exchange a phone address with someone, explain that to me! It's the equivalent of a cowboy-iPhone with a gun making me dance by shooting bullets at my feet, "weeeell, looky here fellas, he's a dancing, he's aaaa daaancing - now bump fists bitch".
I mean seriously you are going to look like a right prick with an iPhone clenched in your clamby mits, BUMPING FISTS with some other equally impressionable iPhone owner, every, single, time you want to exchange information. Call me old fashioned, but I still have:
(a) the use of my voice, and
(b) the use of my brain.
If I utilise both these items, a rare thing occurs. For you see, I can send the details incredibly easily to a person that has an iPhone or that doesn't AND, they can be anywhere in the world; they don't have to be sitting across from me in Starbucks, or in an unoffensive white limbo, where everyone where's one colour and dances to trendy remixes.
People don't know what the hell they're doing on an iPhone, they're fingers zip around on invisible roller blades not knowing where the fuck they are going until eventually they've ordered 600 copies of Ghostbusters II on DVD and have booked themselves in for a haircut at 8, 9 and 10pm for the following day. "DO YOUR SHOPPING ON THE BUS!" NO, I say again, I DEFY YOU iPHONE! People, do it yourself! Feel your wrist, find your pulse? You're alive aren't you? Perhaps try putting your iPhone away for once and embrace that, stupid.
Honestly. What sickens me most is how fucking DOWN with the kids iPhone thinks it is. "Boy" thought Apples hideously slimey marketing department one day "Aren't these kids the darnedest things" and all the suits nod so it continues "I mean just the other day I hear this one young fella, AFLUENT AS HELL, using a youthful colloquialism - I'm talking words that aren't real here. But he was the toast of the party, with his compatriots nodding in agreement and such" and then the marketing department guy walks up to the window and looks outside "And I think to myself - why can't we whore out that kind of lyrical genius huh? I mean, why not make up words like 'funnest' to describe our products - hell, they can relate to it!"
And so, a year later, I feel infuriated in an arm chair when I see that the new iSomething-or-other is being described as the "funnest" iPod ever. Brilliant.
Has anyone, EVER, thought to themselves while they were using their iPhone, "This is great and all, what with the device performing its function and all, but what I'd really like to do is move this glorified mP3 player and steer a rollercoaster, at the same time...*sigh* but I know that's just a pipe-dream, a crazy, crazy pipe-dream". WELL WISH NO MORE GUY, BECAUSE IF YOU CAN COUGH UP THE EXPLETIVE WORTHY SIMOLIANS TO BUY SUCH A FANCIFUL ITEM THEN YOU REALLY CAN STEER A ROLLERCOASTER! I'd buy one myself but I purchased a coca-cola last week and I'm a little strapped for cash.
What I hate about Apple is how bloody convenient they are trying to be. Life isn't convenient (ok?) and so the result is the advert equivalent of one of those waiters that keeps coming up to you to ask if everything is ok; everything ok sir, everything ok sir, everything o-fucking-k sir? NO!? Well no worries baby! Trousers on fire? Cleft palet? Lost the will to live? There's an app for that too! If it was me I'd tell him to fuck off and let me finish my soup in peace. BUT WHY EAT SOUP WHEN I CAN HAVE ALL THE NUTRIENTS FROM SOUP TELEPORTED DIRECTLY IN MY BLOODSTREAM, he'd say, IT'LL LEAVE YOU TIME TO DO ALL THOSE AFLUENT LEISURE ACTIVITIES YOU NEVER HAVE TIME FOR! *que me, snowboarding*
As ever Apples most recent advertising campaign features a song picked out by NME specialists so that it all sounds cool enough and unthreatening enough to convey a real easy-going, hip piece of technology, sorry, not technology, I mean, this hip-piece of life-support. I want my technology shiney and laden with golden buttons thankyou very much, not moseying up to my place at about half 2 in some low slung jeans and with a general shrug of it's casual shoulders "hey man, wanna latte, I know a place" - no, piss off, I'm throwing balls of paper into a bin in just my pants.
I mean for goodness sake, I am a human-being! I'm supposed to demand things of technology, not the other way round! Why am I suddenly "bumping fists" with somebody to exchange a phone address with someone, explain that to me! It's the equivalent of a cowboy-iPhone with a gun making me dance by shooting bullets at my feet, "weeeell, looky here fellas, he's a dancing, he's aaaa daaancing - now bump fists bitch".
I mean seriously you are going to look like a right prick with an iPhone clenched in your clamby mits, BUMPING FISTS with some other equally impressionable iPhone owner, every, single, time you want to exchange information. Call me old fashioned, but I still have:
(a) the use of my voice, and
(b) the use of my brain.
If I utilise both these items, a rare thing occurs. For you see, I can send the details incredibly easily to a person that has an iPhone or that doesn't AND, they can be anywhere in the world; they don't have to be sitting across from me in Starbucks, or in an unoffensive white limbo, where everyone where's one colour and dances to trendy remixes.
People don't know what the hell they're doing on an iPhone, they're fingers zip around on invisible roller blades not knowing where the fuck they are going until eventually they've ordered 600 copies of Ghostbusters II on DVD and have booked themselves in for a haircut at 8, 9 and 10pm for the following day. "DO YOUR SHOPPING ON THE BUS!" NO, I say again, I DEFY YOU iPHONE! People, do it yourself! Feel your wrist, find your pulse? You're alive aren't you? Perhaps try putting your iPhone away for once and embrace that, stupid.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Something Smells Stupid
Christmas time! You know what that means don't you? You and everyone around you stinks! Don't worry, someone is on it.
Like so much snow, December means a flurry of perfume adverts. We are now in the midsts of the storm and witnessing that extraordinary moment that comes but once a year, that is, the moment when every single bloody perfume company tries 'to out-pretentious' and 'out-celebrity' one another. Here is the conversation that must occur in board rooms across the globe as they prepare to market their fragrance:
A: So, Christmas is in a few months time; what have we got?
B: Well sir, we have this fragrance - it smells like cats!
A: Cats?
B: Persian cats.
A: Ah.
B: Exotic!
A: Right! What's the name?
B: Bane.
A: Bane?
B: Like woflsbane sir - it makes people think it has a heritage - wolfsbane is old-timee.
A: But wolfsbane...bane...it smells like cats, I don't get it.
B: We could pronounce it differently...
A: How so?
B: We could say 'Ba' - the new fragance.
A: What is that, French?
B: It could be French. The important thing is that it's foreign.
A: Ah, of course. Spray some on me.
B: Here.
A: GARGH, IT SMELLS LIKE...CATS!
B: Yeah.
A: WELL - I MEAN - MY CAT DOESN'T EVEN SMELL LIKE THIS? HOW THE HELL CAN WE SELL THIS STUFF! URGH, IT'S BURNING A HOLE IN MY FACE.
B: Hmm. That could be a hard sell I guess.
A: HARD SELL, MY EYEBROW'S MISSING!!
B: Well look, I have an idea - how about in the build up to its realease we make people think that they'll die without this perfume?
A:...go on.
B: We don't spend much...quick shots, flashing lights.
A: Cheap, yes, I like it, go on...
B: We show er...images...like...balloons...and statues...
A: Think more glamorous...
B: Red carpets...cars...landscapes!
A: Now you're cooking.
B: We show all those things, really quickly, in black and white.
A: We'll blur a few of the shots as well.
B: Right, as long as no one knows what the hell is going on. Then we get a celebrity-
A: What!? A good one?
B: It's not really important.
A: Well who do we get?
B: We'll draw them from this hat.
A: Ah, ok.
B: Look, I got Ewan McGregor!
A: Primo!
B: And then we get them to say a little something about the perfume!
A: Problem.
B: What?
A: We can't really afford to pay them to say anything.
B: Well that's fine. Look, let's say it's...100 dollars a word...
A: Right...
B: We get them to say about three words, maybe four...
A: Woah now...
B: Ok, three words...good words though, long ones...
A: We want our moneys worth afterall.
B: Exactly; three long words, arty words...and then the name of the perfume.
A: Wolfsbane.
B: Ba.
A: Oh yes, right.
B: And hey presto, we have a hit fragrance this Christmas.
A: The money comes rolling in!
B: Exactly.
A: Just one thing...
B: What is it?
A: Well what if another company does this? I've heard rummblings of a very effective marketing campaign building up over at Pacco.
B: Huh! You mean like this bad boy? I don't think so. Relax baby-bel! Soon as people see our ad they'll feel like they're in touch with something...they'll see it and go...'yeah - that meant something to me'.
A: What?
B: Well it doesn't matter what, it doesn't mean anything; it's just supposed to make them feel like they can only be important if they buy the fragrance.
A: So what we're saying is..."Buy this fragrance..."
B: Buy this fragrance, otherwise you're a soulless monster with no ability to recognise art...
A: Plus, if you don't buy it...
B: Then you're also not a celebrity.
A: Bingo.
B: Those sweet simolians are ours - now all we need is a bottle shaped like something you can't practically store.
------------------------------------------------------
Aaaaand it goes on like this. My point being, every advert for perfume at this time of year is exactly the same. Short bursts of pictures and sounds that give you the consumer the impression that it's so much more! That if you can cough up the cash, if you can buy this fragrance then you too can have all of this great stuff laid before you! BUY IT, BECAUSE THEY HAVE BOTTLED UP PERSONALITY AND CHARISMA ALL FOR YOU TO SUCK DOWN YOUR GOB-HOLE. ITS MAGIC, THIS IS LIQUID SEX, THIS IS LIQUID SUCCESS, YOU HAVE TO BUY IT.
Afterall, at a billion pounds a pop, it doesn't seem as flash if you don't do all that crap does it, right?
Show them you care this Christmas; buy them "Smell-In-A-Jar", the new musk from Mr. Muscle.
p.s. sorry about the dialogue, I got carried away as usual.
Like so much snow, December means a flurry of perfume adverts. We are now in the midsts of the storm and witnessing that extraordinary moment that comes but once a year, that is, the moment when every single bloody perfume company tries 'to out-pretentious' and 'out-celebrity' one another. Here is the conversation that must occur in board rooms across the globe as they prepare to market their fragrance:
A: So, Christmas is in a few months time; what have we got?
B: Well sir, we have this fragrance - it smells like cats!
A: Cats?
B: Persian cats.
A: Ah.
B: Exotic!
A: Right! What's the name?
B: Bane.
A: Bane?
B: Like woflsbane sir - it makes people think it has a heritage - wolfsbane is old-timee.
A: But wolfsbane...bane...it smells like cats, I don't get it.
B: We could pronounce it differently...
A: How so?
B: We could say 'Ba' - the new fragance.
A: What is that, French?
B: It could be French. The important thing is that it's foreign.
A: Ah, of course. Spray some on me.
B: Here.
A: GARGH, IT SMELLS LIKE...CATS!
B: Yeah.
A: WELL - I MEAN - MY CAT DOESN'T EVEN SMELL LIKE THIS? HOW THE HELL CAN WE SELL THIS STUFF! URGH, IT'S BURNING A HOLE IN MY FACE.
B: Hmm. That could be a hard sell I guess.
A: HARD SELL, MY EYEBROW'S MISSING!!
B: Well look, I have an idea - how about in the build up to its realease we make people think that they'll die without this perfume?
A:...go on.
B: We don't spend much...quick shots, flashing lights.
A: Cheap, yes, I like it, go on...
B: We show er...images...like...balloons...and statues...
A: Think more glamorous...
B: Red carpets...cars...landscapes!
A: Now you're cooking.
B: We show all those things, really quickly, in black and white.
A: We'll blur a few of the shots as well.
B: Right, as long as no one knows what the hell is going on. Then we get a celebrity-
A: What!? A good one?
B: It's not really important.
A: Well who do we get?
B: We'll draw them from this hat.
A: Ah, ok.
B: Look, I got Ewan McGregor!
A: Primo!
B: And then we get them to say a little something about the perfume!
A: Problem.
B: What?
A: We can't really afford to pay them to say anything.
B: Well that's fine. Look, let's say it's...100 dollars a word...
A: Right...
B: We get them to say about three words, maybe four...
A: Woah now...
B: Ok, three words...good words though, long ones...
A: We want our moneys worth afterall.
B: Exactly; three long words, arty words...and then the name of the perfume.
A: Wolfsbane.
B: Ba.
A: Oh yes, right.
B: And hey presto, we have a hit fragrance this Christmas.
A: The money comes rolling in!
B: Exactly.
A: Just one thing...
B: What is it?
A: Well what if another company does this? I've heard rummblings of a very effective marketing campaign building up over at Pacco.
B: Huh! You mean like this bad boy? I don't think so. Relax baby-bel! Soon as people see our ad they'll feel like they're in touch with something...they'll see it and go...'yeah - that meant something to me'.
A: What?
B: Well it doesn't matter what, it doesn't mean anything; it's just supposed to make them feel like they can only be important if they buy the fragrance.
A: So what we're saying is..."Buy this fragrance..."
B: Buy this fragrance, otherwise you're a soulless monster with no ability to recognise art...
A: Plus, if you don't buy it...
B: Then you're also not a celebrity.
A: Bingo.
B: Those sweet simolians are ours - now all we need is a bottle shaped like something you can't practically store.
------------------------------------------------------
Aaaaand it goes on like this. My point being, every advert for perfume at this time of year is exactly the same. Short bursts of pictures and sounds that give you the consumer the impression that it's so much more! That if you can cough up the cash, if you can buy this fragrance then you too can have all of this great stuff laid before you! BUY IT, BECAUSE THEY HAVE BOTTLED UP PERSONALITY AND CHARISMA ALL FOR YOU TO SUCK DOWN YOUR GOB-HOLE. ITS MAGIC, THIS IS LIQUID SEX, THIS IS LIQUID SUCCESS, YOU HAVE TO BUY IT.
Afterall, at a billion pounds a pop, it doesn't seem as flash if you don't do all that crap does it, right?
Show them you care this Christmas; buy them "Smell-In-A-Jar", the new musk from Mr. Muscle.
p.s. sorry about the dialogue, I got carried away as usual.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
We Were Warned
If I may I would like to briefly sum this film up before exploring the details further. A huge fecking disaster hits the entire globe like it never did before. Think about something really big...done that? Well it's even bigger than that, this is the kind of global disaster that demands a rich tapestry of CGI particulars that eventually illustrate destruction on an epic, awe inspiring scale. Can one man and his family survive? Indeed, will mankind survive? Let’s find out.
The special effects are good. Incredibly good, to date I don’t believe that I have seen much better. I couldn't quite enjoy the spectacle though because of the three trailers that came before the actual film. It seems that in 2010 we’re in for a myriad of HUGE, WHOPPING GREAT CGI films that are intent on melting our eyeballs. Which is a shame because not only do I like my eyeballs, I like depth and story. The opening trailers were more crammed with special effects than my blog is of profanities, which is no mean feat. By the time 2012 rocked up I was bloody worn out.
The scale of the collapsing Earth in 2012 is mightily impressive and fully immersed me in the global catastrophe. I might even call it terrifying, due to its relevance in a green-aware world and possibility that we could really suffer from such natural disasters in the future. Unfortunately, my point on the opening trailers exhausting me is that 2012’s greatest strength is clearly in its CGI artistry. However, when so many current and upcoming films are seemingly capable of such imagery, can they still be called special effects? If they can’t, then a film like 2012 can’t hope to succeed merely on its appearance. And, regrettably, it pretty much does.
There was too much icing on the cake that is 2012, which meant in the end it started to taste a lot like eating plain icing and if you do that you quickly grow tired of eating icing and you're sick everywhere. The guys who toiled on this were clearly talented and well funded, but it soon became like watching a child build something out of Lego, just so he could smash it on the ground. The rest of the film is embarrassingly predictable.
The focus is on one family but as in all disaster films it's a broken family, one that can only be repaired by the part of the Earth’s crust being shifted around, which says a lot to me about the impracticality of marriage in the 21st Century. As well as this core family, 2012 also dabbles in a 'Love Actually-esque' view of some other narratives, and eventually they all sort of criss-cross. Unfortunately the film seems to lose interest in this plot device and quickly puts them all together like it's picked up something smelly and wants to put it all away quickly because it didn't realise how smelly all the different plotlines were. So the other plotlines never really get the same level of attention given to the core one - it's unbalanced, considering that these strands are all supposed to converge at the same spot at the end of the film.
They might have dodged a bullet though. Never one to do things in halves, 2012 wants to equal its epic special effects only in the pathos it builds for the main character, John Cusack...who from here on in will be called ‘High Fidelity’. Not a typical action hero you might think, but nowadays the real movie heroes are those that we least expect - which is why he's always the failed husband and father now, or the jerk who won’t grow up and realise his responsibilities. The dinosaurs of yesterdays action films are now Californian senators or wheeling themselves out in films called 'Explosions VII; Revenge of the Box Office'; ‘High Fidelity’ is our hero now. Sure he was never an attentive enough husband or father, but damn it (and they probably had this very argument once) if there was ever a world crisis where the entire globe collapsed in on itself and humanities very existence was threatened, he'd bloody well come through, OK? He was probably really kicking himself then when it actually happened.
As ever an unlikely amount of luck seems to influence his and his family’s survival. He outruns earthquakes in limos and dodges volcanoes in planes. It’s all good, baby. In fact, 2012, being the a-typical disaster monolith it is, reminds us of that key-code of conduct that one must obey if one wants to live to the end of an apocalypse film; BE GOOD.
2012 reminds us that in films like these, anyone guilty of a slight moral infraction comes to an unlikely death. If only life were so fair! And equally anyone that has always tried to do the right thing comes to an unlikely survival. 2012 is so blindingly generic in this way that I could almost see the grim puppet-master of film morality bouncing the figures around going "woohoo, you're going to die, liiike...this; ha-ha!" Honestly, there was no grey area here, no serious moral questions about humanity or society, which is what the film needed to make any of these people worth saving and, subsequently, to get the audience to care about the outcome. Such films have no room for uncertainty, you are either going to live, or you are going to die. Oh, and if you are making the final resolution awkward or even 'heroes' final happiness in the status quo a little difficult, it’s likely that you too will die as a result of being inconvenient. That's basic. This is basic film maths people, page 1 of your text books. 2012 follows it religiously.
And it is because it is so rigid that 2012 was not a great movie. It was frequently on its high horse. “Oh, look at this guy making a sacrifice. Look at this guy not making a sacrifice! I’ll settle their hash”. It suddenly started to feel a lot like that ungodly 'Crash' film. Crash ought to be buried in a lead bunker, because to go near it is to be contaminated. By the end, the only thing rivalling 2012’s moral high ground was the height of the waves. I think I was supposed to have learnt something about...being good to each other? And sacrifice? The American family wins through once the loving new husband has been churned up in the gears of a machine? Was this film about class conflict? Racism? I simply don’t know. I'm just glad that at the end of the film everyone gets to sail off into the sunset; literally. Can you believe that? I almost wanted the words "THE END" to appear in beautiful script at the top of the screen while a Disney-style chorus sang them off. Instead we got a space eye view of the African continent...was that supposed to be political? Again, my tiny intellect prevents me from answering.
Put simply, it was hard to take any of the films messages seriously when they had all been made before - what's new 2012? Do you still pay attention anymore when your mum tells you to eat all of your vegetables? No, of course you don't, you've started to come to those decisions on your own now. Equally, having seen my fair share of films over the past twenty years, I don't need 2012 telling me that human life is precious. Thanks. Is it? Good.
Let me set your minds at ease if you have your tickets already booked - I don't think this is what I would call a bad film. I just wouldn't venture to call it good either. 2012 is essentially a film trying to make up for having a small penis (its human relationships) by giving off a lot of bravado. If you like bravado, you'll like this film. But if you want a film that develops believably human relationships, please don’t give 2012 the time of day.
Ultimately, whatever your opinion it is impossible to truly complain about this film. Afterall, we were warned! Hyuck-hyuck.
The special effects are good. Incredibly good, to date I don’t believe that I have seen much better. I couldn't quite enjoy the spectacle though because of the three trailers that came before the actual film. It seems that in 2010 we’re in for a myriad of HUGE, WHOPPING GREAT CGI films that are intent on melting our eyeballs. Which is a shame because not only do I like my eyeballs, I like depth and story. The opening trailers were more crammed with special effects than my blog is of profanities, which is no mean feat. By the time 2012 rocked up I was bloody worn out.
The scale of the collapsing Earth in 2012 is mightily impressive and fully immersed me in the global catastrophe. I might even call it terrifying, due to its relevance in a green-aware world and possibility that we could really suffer from such natural disasters in the future. Unfortunately, my point on the opening trailers exhausting me is that 2012’s greatest strength is clearly in its CGI artistry. However, when so many current and upcoming films are seemingly capable of such imagery, can they still be called special effects? If they can’t, then a film like 2012 can’t hope to succeed merely on its appearance. And, regrettably, it pretty much does.
There was too much icing on the cake that is 2012, which meant in the end it started to taste a lot like eating plain icing and if you do that you quickly grow tired of eating icing and you're sick everywhere. The guys who toiled on this were clearly talented and well funded, but it soon became like watching a child build something out of Lego, just so he could smash it on the ground. The rest of the film is embarrassingly predictable.
The focus is on one family but as in all disaster films it's a broken family, one that can only be repaired by the part of the Earth’s crust being shifted around, which says a lot to me about the impracticality of marriage in the 21st Century. As well as this core family, 2012 also dabbles in a 'Love Actually-esque' view of some other narratives, and eventually they all sort of criss-cross. Unfortunately the film seems to lose interest in this plot device and quickly puts them all together like it's picked up something smelly and wants to put it all away quickly because it didn't realise how smelly all the different plotlines were. So the other plotlines never really get the same level of attention given to the core one - it's unbalanced, considering that these strands are all supposed to converge at the same spot at the end of the film.
They might have dodged a bullet though. Never one to do things in halves, 2012 wants to equal its epic special effects only in the pathos it builds for the main character, John Cusack...who from here on in will be called ‘High Fidelity’. Not a typical action hero you might think, but nowadays the real movie heroes are those that we least expect - which is why he's always the failed husband and father now, or the jerk who won’t grow up and realise his responsibilities. The dinosaurs of yesterdays action films are now Californian senators or wheeling themselves out in films called 'Explosions VII; Revenge of the Box Office'; ‘High Fidelity’ is our hero now. Sure he was never an attentive enough husband or father, but damn it (and they probably had this very argument once) if there was ever a world crisis where the entire globe collapsed in on itself and humanities very existence was threatened, he'd bloody well come through, OK? He was probably really kicking himself then when it actually happened.
As ever an unlikely amount of luck seems to influence his and his family’s survival. He outruns earthquakes in limos and dodges volcanoes in planes. It’s all good, baby. In fact, 2012, being the a-typical disaster monolith it is, reminds us of that key-code of conduct that one must obey if one wants to live to the end of an apocalypse film; BE GOOD.
2012 reminds us that in films like these, anyone guilty of a slight moral infraction comes to an unlikely death. If only life were so fair! And equally anyone that has always tried to do the right thing comes to an unlikely survival. 2012 is so blindingly generic in this way that I could almost see the grim puppet-master of film morality bouncing the figures around going "woohoo, you're going to die, liiike...this; ha-ha!" Honestly, there was no grey area here, no serious moral questions about humanity or society, which is what the film needed to make any of these people worth saving and, subsequently, to get the audience to care about the outcome. Such films have no room for uncertainty, you are either going to live, or you are going to die. Oh, and if you are making the final resolution awkward or even 'heroes' final happiness in the status quo a little difficult, it’s likely that you too will die as a result of being inconvenient. That's basic. This is basic film maths people, page 1 of your text books. 2012 follows it religiously.
And it is because it is so rigid that 2012 was not a great movie. It was frequently on its high horse. “Oh, look at this guy making a sacrifice. Look at this guy not making a sacrifice! I’ll settle their hash”. It suddenly started to feel a lot like that ungodly 'Crash' film. Crash ought to be buried in a lead bunker, because to go near it is to be contaminated. By the end, the only thing rivalling 2012’s moral high ground was the height of the waves. I think I was supposed to have learnt something about...being good to each other? And sacrifice? The American family wins through once the loving new husband has been churned up in the gears of a machine? Was this film about class conflict? Racism? I simply don’t know. I'm just glad that at the end of the film everyone gets to sail off into the sunset; literally. Can you believe that? I almost wanted the words "THE END" to appear in beautiful script at the top of the screen while a Disney-style chorus sang them off. Instead we got a space eye view of the African continent...was that supposed to be political? Again, my tiny intellect prevents me from answering.
Put simply, it was hard to take any of the films messages seriously when they had all been made before - what's new 2012? Do you still pay attention anymore when your mum tells you to eat all of your vegetables? No, of course you don't, you've started to come to those decisions on your own now. Equally, having seen my fair share of films over the past twenty years, I don't need 2012 telling me that human life is precious. Thanks. Is it? Good.
Let me set your minds at ease if you have your tickets already booked - I don't think this is what I would call a bad film. I just wouldn't venture to call it good either. 2012 is essentially a film trying to make up for having a small penis (its human relationships) by giving off a lot of bravado. If you like bravado, you'll like this film. But if you want a film that develops believably human relationships, please don’t give 2012 the time of day.
Ultimately, whatever your opinion it is impossible to truly complain about this film. Afterall, we were warned! Hyuck-hyuck.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
X MARKS THE SHIT, or rather, Why It's Important to Watch X-Factor.
Ah, my old nemesis, X-Factor, we meet again, FOR THE LAST TIME.
The pantomime shit storm that is X-Factor continues to charge along like a mediocre laden juggernaut on its way to tacky television station, population, several million British plebeians.
Introducing the general public, a gaudy Reebok clad swarm of robots capable of performing two functions that make you believe that they are real life sentient beings! These actions of course are:
(1) Applauding
(2) Booing
And these clever party tricks are employed whenever anyone expresses an opinion that is:
(1) Matching to their opinion
(2) Contrary to their opinion
So, let the futility commense. The general populace of this country, who I lose more and more respect for everyday, get to put an emotional stake in a hollow husk of a contestant, just so that when that talentless figure is used as the vessel to churn out a souless studio album of solo mediocrity they can say, YES, I always liked him, and that was my guy! This is less their one-time solo success, more my own personal victory at guessing what twit the general public are willing to subject themselves to.
Louis Walsh is a judge on X-Factor and, get this, has been quoted as calling X-Factor “a talent show”. Dogs spinning plates on their noses is a talent. X-Factor is a talent show exactly the same way WHSmith is a book shop. It sort of is because it has some books in it, but that’s not reeeally what it is or what it’s there for.
X-Factor is some nightmarish cylinder of pain which people need to plug into to refill their ‘stupid fuel’. This stupid fuel is vital, because stupid fuel helps drive round the empty cogs in peoples heads. It means that they can drive along their desperate desire for an emotional engagement, it lets them driiiive forward towards something that they really, really care about, because unfortunately, the viewers lives are so shallow and pointless that they just don’t have anything better to dedicate themselves to. X-Factor is your packaged, makeshift meaning of existence; for all the family!
Whilst the judges continue to exchange worthless platitudes (which ironically sum up all too accurately the quality of every performers lyrical razor blade to my brain), the contestants get to play their set roles. I wonder if they get the scripts beforehand...”You know, Simon, I’m in it to win and I don’t care what you say and I’m gonna come back here, next week, even bigger, better and stronger” *cue rampant stinking applause*
However, here is my summary of the contestants. But Charlie, how on earth can you form an opinion, you don’t watch it. I’ve seen it, everyone I know watches it, and it tells me a lot about their IQ and their social and media awareness. Despite this, there is genuine reason that you, and I, need to know the following, a reason I will explain at the end. Here we go then:
Daryl: A man of unknown race and with a mouth the size of the sun, this bisexual teacher is a generic tight jeaned solo singer. He gets teary eyed over nothing. Saying that, some people "hate him more than Hitler" apparently. At least the Nazi party didn't sing though. Get Nick Griffin on X-Factor, that ought to even it out a bit! "When you're the BNPeeeee, nobody takes ya seriouslyyyyyy".
Joe McElderry: A personalityless face, he looks about twelve and like he is missing a boy band.
Lloyd Daniels: Somehow Lloyd managed to escape the set of Home and Away and cram himself onto X-Factor, much to everyones disgust. Another person who seems about twelve years old, he is another empty husk of a solo singer (see above) who would struggle to look more typically marketable if he tried. Surfs up "Lloyd", if that is your real name.
Lucie Jones: A voice that sounds like a cat under a bus (flat) I can't even tell if Lucie is pretty or not, because she has one of those faces that looks pretty from some angles and then square and obtuse the next. Plus, do we really need yet another female solo singer coming out of the crap factory that is the 'music industry'? I don't think so. You go girl...go away.
Stacie Solomon: Is she perhaps the stupidest person in the history of mankind? That's impossible to measure, but is she pretty then? Well, let me just say this, a horse is a horse of course of course. I can't bare Stacie Solomon, she has a voice that sounds like hot air quickly escaping out of a kettle, hahahahahaHA uuuuurgh.
John and Edward: Having narrowly missed out on a part in The Shining these scary twins are perhaps the least choreographed and in tune pair of people I have ever, ever seen in my entire life, and I'm including your average man on the street in this, they literally have no talents whatsoever between them, let alone in performing. I bet they don't dress up at halloween, they just tell people to deliver sweets to them or they'll come round and just stand in peoples living room *shudder*
Olly Murs: Next time you look at Olly Murs, think of this - "You have a face like a loaf of bread". Press down on his head and go "ah, Kingsmill" or something. Just because you were probably rejected from Westlife Olly, doesn't mean you can start wearing braces and crooked hats all of a sudden, this isn't Chicago, you're boring, horrifically clean-cut, and I hate you. Do one.
Jamie Archer: What is this bohemian nightmare. The afro says soul, but the voice, persona and overall being says 'pretend hippy'. I bet Jamie loves the environment but likes to leave his lights on and hates to recycle. Anyway, he can't sing, and thrusting your hips around and pretending to 'ROCK OUT' is no substitute for a good voice.
[NONE OF THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY ORIGINALITY OR PERSONALITY OR CREATIVITY; oh, I'm sorry, how silly, that's not what music is about. Oh, my mistake again, of course, it is. "But Charlie, Sinatra never wrote his own songs", no, he didn't and he sucked. Besides, at least he had style and an original singing voice that still stands out today as clearly being his]. Anyway.
Here’s why you needed to know all that tripe and about all that tripe; because, THE RESULT OF X-FACTOR WILL EFFECT YOU. I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. But you and I (presumably sharp reader) have to take an interest in X-Factor nowadays, because it’s such a foul cultural cancer that whoever wins this travesty of a jumped up, record label, puppet show, we the public will have to see them more often, fact.
Whoever emerges “victorious” (although the whole thing is about as convincing as wrestling) will be turned into sausages via the chart music machine – that means a vomit worthy single, splurging posters, blindly fanatical radio time and a predictably average album deal. We have to know who we’re dealing with, get our heads down, maybe take refuge in a war bunker of some description and emerge only in the distant future when everyone is bored of whatever no-talent boob that X-Factor spawns out. In the meantime, they will be everywhere, so we might as well make sure that it's the least annoying idiot we can.
Who do I want to win?
Well, if you're asking, I'd have to say John and Edward. Their horrifying appearance and abundantly obvious lack of talent aside, I would like them to win the X-Factor, because I'm an ironic bugger, and then at least no one will like them, not just me.
If my soul is ice-cream, X-Factor, and with that ITV (those bastards) are the ice-cream scoop, they carve out my very being from my bodily husk. The horrific level of interest in X-Factor genuinely rattles my weak faith in society. Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Have the friends and family I love and once respected succumbed to alien invaders, aliens who replaced them all with swill consuming creatures bent on watching shit “reality” television “competitions”? I hope that the answer is yes. I’m embarrassed to say that I was present when my Mother and Uncle were discussing, with loud vigour, the events in X-Factor...alongside me...in a service station...bottom of the barrel.
And do you know what, side-not: FUCK the people who 'pretend' to like X-Factor. I hate the people who when talking about X-Factor begin their sentence with: "Oh, well I only watch it because-", STOP; the key word there is 'watch'. You still watch it, stop pretending to do it ironically you dick, you clearly enjoy it because you're there watching it every bloody week, not just when the 'funny rubbish people' are in it at the beginning, stop lying to yourself, you have a problem! The people who do that are much worse than the ones who actually admit to enjoying it.
Of course that’s fantasy, and I condemn absolutely anyone idiot enough to view the X-Factor. You are a brainless human of the highest calibre. I insist that we all start thinking about what we watch on television. Still, as long as you’re happy I suppose. I hope those scary Shining twins win, and that they bring about the apocalypse.
The pantomime shit storm that is X-Factor continues to charge along like a mediocre laden juggernaut on its way to tacky television station, population, several million British plebeians.
Introducing the general public, a gaudy Reebok clad swarm of robots capable of performing two functions that make you believe that they are real life sentient beings! These actions of course are:
(1) Applauding
(2) Booing
And these clever party tricks are employed whenever anyone expresses an opinion that is:
(1) Matching to their opinion
(2) Contrary to their opinion
So, let the futility commense. The general populace of this country, who I lose more and more respect for everyday, get to put an emotional stake in a hollow husk of a contestant, just so that when that talentless figure is used as the vessel to churn out a souless studio album of solo mediocrity they can say, YES, I always liked him, and that was my guy! This is less their one-time solo success, more my own personal victory at guessing what twit the general public are willing to subject themselves to.
Louis Walsh is a judge on X-Factor and, get this, has been quoted as calling X-Factor “a talent show”. Dogs spinning plates on their noses is a talent. X-Factor is a talent show exactly the same way WHSmith is a book shop. It sort of is because it has some books in it, but that’s not reeeally what it is or what it’s there for.
X-Factor is some nightmarish cylinder of pain which people need to plug into to refill their ‘stupid fuel’. This stupid fuel is vital, because stupid fuel helps drive round the empty cogs in peoples heads. It means that they can drive along their desperate desire for an emotional engagement, it lets them driiiive forward towards something that they really, really care about, because unfortunately, the viewers lives are so shallow and pointless that they just don’t have anything better to dedicate themselves to. X-Factor is your packaged, makeshift meaning of existence; for all the family!
Whilst the judges continue to exchange worthless platitudes (which ironically sum up all too accurately the quality of every performers lyrical razor blade to my brain), the contestants get to play their set roles. I wonder if they get the scripts beforehand...”You know, Simon, I’m in it to win and I don’t care what you say and I’m gonna come back here, next week, even bigger, better and stronger” *cue rampant stinking applause*
However, here is my summary of the contestants. But Charlie, how on earth can you form an opinion, you don’t watch it. I’ve seen it, everyone I know watches it, and it tells me a lot about their IQ and their social and media awareness. Despite this, there is genuine reason that you, and I, need to know the following, a reason I will explain at the end. Here we go then:
Daryl: A man of unknown race and with a mouth the size of the sun, this bisexual teacher is a generic tight jeaned solo singer. He gets teary eyed over nothing. Saying that, some people "hate him more than Hitler" apparently. At least the Nazi party didn't sing though. Get Nick Griffin on X-Factor, that ought to even it out a bit! "When you're the BNPeeeee, nobody takes ya seriouslyyyyyy".
Joe McElderry: A personalityless face, he looks about twelve and like he is missing a boy band.
Lloyd Daniels: Somehow Lloyd managed to escape the set of Home and Away and cram himself onto X-Factor, much to everyones disgust. Another person who seems about twelve years old, he is another empty husk of a solo singer (see above) who would struggle to look more typically marketable if he tried. Surfs up "Lloyd", if that is your real name.
Lucie Jones: A voice that sounds like a cat under a bus (flat) I can't even tell if Lucie is pretty or not, because she has one of those faces that looks pretty from some angles and then square and obtuse the next. Plus, do we really need yet another female solo singer coming out of the crap factory that is the 'music industry'? I don't think so. You go girl...go away.
Stacie Solomon: Is she perhaps the stupidest person in the history of mankind? That's impossible to measure, but is she pretty then? Well, let me just say this, a horse is a horse of course of course. I can't bare Stacie Solomon, she has a voice that sounds like hot air quickly escaping out of a kettle, hahahahahaHA uuuuurgh.
John and Edward: Having narrowly missed out on a part in The Shining these scary twins are perhaps the least choreographed and in tune pair of people I have ever, ever seen in my entire life, and I'm including your average man on the street in this, they literally have no talents whatsoever between them, let alone in performing. I bet they don't dress up at halloween, they just tell people to deliver sweets to them or they'll come round and just stand in peoples living room *shudder*
Olly Murs: Next time you look at Olly Murs, think of this - "You have a face like a loaf of bread". Press down on his head and go "ah, Kingsmill" or something. Just because you were probably rejected from Westlife Olly, doesn't mean you can start wearing braces and crooked hats all of a sudden, this isn't Chicago, you're boring, horrifically clean-cut, and I hate you. Do one.
Jamie Archer: What is this bohemian nightmare. The afro says soul, but the voice, persona and overall being says 'pretend hippy'. I bet Jamie loves the environment but likes to leave his lights on and hates to recycle. Anyway, he can't sing, and thrusting your hips around and pretending to 'ROCK OUT' is no substitute for a good voice.
[NONE OF THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY ORIGINALITY OR PERSONALITY OR CREATIVITY; oh, I'm sorry, how silly, that's not what music is about. Oh, my mistake again, of course, it is. "But Charlie, Sinatra never wrote his own songs", no, he didn't and he sucked. Besides, at least he had style and an original singing voice that still stands out today as clearly being his]. Anyway.
Here’s why you needed to know all that tripe and about all that tripe; because, THE RESULT OF X-FACTOR WILL EFFECT YOU. I know, and I’m sorry, I really am. But you and I (presumably sharp reader) have to take an interest in X-Factor nowadays, because it’s such a foul cultural cancer that whoever wins this travesty of a jumped up, record label, puppet show, we the public will have to see them more often, fact.
Whoever emerges “victorious” (although the whole thing is about as convincing as wrestling) will be turned into sausages via the chart music machine – that means a vomit worthy single, splurging posters, blindly fanatical radio time and a predictably average album deal. We have to know who we’re dealing with, get our heads down, maybe take refuge in a war bunker of some description and emerge only in the distant future when everyone is bored of whatever no-talent boob that X-Factor spawns out. In the meantime, they will be everywhere, so we might as well make sure that it's the least annoying idiot we can.
Who do I want to win?
Well, if you're asking, I'd have to say John and Edward. Their horrifying appearance and abundantly obvious lack of talent aside, I would like them to win the X-Factor, because I'm an ironic bugger, and then at least no one will like them, not just me.
If my soul is ice-cream, X-Factor, and with that ITV (those bastards) are the ice-cream scoop, they carve out my very being from my bodily husk. The horrific level of interest in X-Factor genuinely rattles my weak faith in society. Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Have the friends and family I love and once respected succumbed to alien invaders, aliens who replaced them all with swill consuming creatures bent on watching shit “reality” television “competitions”? I hope that the answer is yes. I’m embarrassed to say that I was present when my Mother and Uncle were discussing, with loud vigour, the events in X-Factor...alongside me...in a service station...bottom of the barrel.
And do you know what, side-not: FUCK the people who 'pretend' to like X-Factor. I hate the people who when talking about X-Factor begin their sentence with: "Oh, well I only watch it because-", STOP; the key word there is 'watch'. You still watch it, stop pretending to do it ironically you dick, you clearly enjoy it because you're there watching it every bloody week, not just when the 'funny rubbish people' are in it at the beginning, stop lying to yourself, you have a problem! The people who do that are much worse than the ones who actually admit to enjoying it.
Of course that’s fantasy, and I condemn absolutely anyone idiot enough to view the X-Factor. You are a brainless human of the highest calibre. I insist that we all start thinking about what we watch on television. Still, as long as you’re happy I suppose. I hope those scary Shining twins win, and that they bring about the apocalypse.
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