Reality Television

Date of Birth: 21/08/2010, or to the mindless millions of minions that watch 'reality' television, 'You're Talking Shit' was conceived on the same day X Factor series 782 started. This wasn't my intention, but hearing the garbled gibberish of the diminutive Dermot O'Leary in the background I wonder how I hadn't started it earlier. What a proud day to be born. You would hope in reaching 2010 'reality' television would've been tossed out on the shitheap like a month old cucumber that lies at the back of your fridge.

Alas we are without luck; Big Brother's beady eye maybe closing but the rest of the cucumber remains, multiplying in mould, festering in our fridge and we continue to eat it. The following months we will be forced to endure such 'real' life programmes as I'm a Celebrity [are you?], Get me Outta Here? Britains [not really] Got Talent on ITV. BBC, the channel that we pay for, stimulates us with Strictly Dumb Dancing compered by the bigot Bruce Forsyth. (Sidenote: Russell Brand has sex with a lapdancer, has a crude pop at her Grandad and is banned from beeb, Bruce Almighty says a racist slur and it's fine because he's old, surely Ron Atkinson's agent must be on the phone to Match of the Day.) Then we have Andrew Lloyd Webber's search; he's looked for a Dorothy, a Nancy, surely the expiration on his skin is up and his next search will be for a Face. I'm not really a fan of his opera, but I thought he was terrific in Texas Chainsaw Massacre. We are told that this is a reality, a reflection of how we live but I see no affinity with lycra clad dancers, no kinship with Jungle Jim and Jane. I don't know anyone who Foxtrots or Dances on Ice, or even Ice Skates for that fact, we Northerners have a small catalogue of moves that consist of the Two-Step or the Bez.

As much as I had hoped that at the dawn of a new decade we would be moving on to something new, challenging, and enlightening it seems reality television will continue. I will be picking up my SingStar soon to hone my voice, my Gran is sewing a sequins shirt for my Samba rendition, I'll be having crocodiles cock for breakfast...Of late there is only one television programme that I have seen that deserves the tag reality; the protagonists offering a comparable warmth, wit and wisdom and that is the shit flicking swinging chimps David Attenborough broadcasts. They have more authenticity than any 'singer', 'dancer' or 'worm eater'. There is more reflection of humanity in animal documentaries and their need to eat, love, live and survive than anything ever fronted by The Racist, The Geordie and The Serial Killer...

Reality Television, 'You're Talking Shit'!