(written: 26 September 2003)
Reality television. Some would deem it the paedophile relative of the television world. Others would deem it a handy refuge on a Wednesday (ooor Tuesday...) night. And a select few would deem it a nice little cash cow and rub their hands together greedily as the retired pig farmer from Kentucky is seen masturbating in the bushes.
His life would never be the same. Sob sob.
But bigger countries should be grateful. They really should for in a little known country commonly known as Aotearoa we have little to entertain us in the field of voyerism. Here's a guide to the shows unique to New Zealand that can only be placed in the reality TV genre.
Teach an All Black how to cook so he'll know how to fend for himself once his wife inevitably leaves him for a richer, hipper star and then sells his story to the womens' magazines.
Perhaps it's a working title... It's important that these big lugs know what life for the plebs is like. You know. Not having a chef on hand to make sure you're eating your weetbix. It's important also to know not to cook an egg by putting it in the microwave. I mean... you can cook eggs in the microwave, but not by just placing it in there. And who doesn't wanna see cute rugby players wearing "Kiss the Cook" or those neat bikini aprons?
Who Wants To Be A Sheep Farmer's assistant?
Not me! Infact, probably no one who isn't already one! So let's bring a bunch of hapless "city folk" into the WopWops and try to pair the ladies off with the snaggle toothed locals! It's like a scene out of some wonderful movie. Think Bette Midler. Think Lily Tomlin. Think total mayhem and hilarity! Now think about those poor bastard sheep who have to suffer at the hands of inexperienced shearers. No Vidal Sassoon jobs HERE mate!
I'm FAMOUS. I Shouldn't Be! But I AM! Join me on my search...
Those celebrities eh? They're a crazy kooky bunch. And we call them celebrities a little too readily sometimes. When you're famous, I'd like to think it's because you've earned recognition by being good at your craft, ooooor simply by being exploited by some crazed show-biz parent or studio big-wig. When you're famous simply because someone decided one day to plaster your face all over TV and magazines then I have issue with you. Case in point: Charlotte Dawson. What do we kiwis know about this woman? We know she once met Bill Clinton. We know she dated Russell Crowe in the early to mid 80s before he was famous. We know she gets herself in papparazzi photos even though no one cares about her designer sunglasses. We know she dated an ex-All Black. We also know that for some reason as a result of all this crap she ended up with her own TV show and advice column. Her advice incidently is for celebrities. The celebrities don't ASK mind you. She just gives it. Why we then have to endure her public "I want it to be private" search for her birth mother is beyond me. But wasn't it heartwarming when it didn't work out?
Garage Sale
Well someone needed to employ that big black guy from the Matrix. Not Laurence Fishburne. The other one. The basic premise is to "redecorate" someones home using materials salvaged from garage sales. The general reaction to the monstrocity that is commonly created is that of faux-delight with the seething anger lurking not too far underneath. In reality this show probably HAD no budget. Why would anyone knowingly pay to let garage sale shoppers into peoples homes?
"Well Suzanne, we decided to strip this room of all it's expensive knick-knacks and coat the walls with this rust coloured paint that we found out the back of a factory. At least we think it's paint... "
McDonald's Young Entertainers
Why encouraging precocious children needs it's own television show is beyond me. Why the regulars all need huge teeth is also beyond me. Why when we saw one of the ten years olds walking to school one morning while we were on a bus going up north we banged on the window and called his name is sadly beyond me. Why Bev yelled out "WHOO WHOO" from a moving car to the eldest member of the "Super Troupe" is way beyond me. Why we're enthralled by celebrities we hate is a mystery for the ages. Must be a jealousy thing.
*Sigh*
Do you remember when Ted Danson was dating Whoopi Goldberg? Do you realise that she has no eyebrows? Did you realise he has white hair? Did he have to get a white hairpiece or is he letting his bald flag fly? Did anyone watch Becker?
Didn't think so.
If you have an X-Box and a copy of Raw 2... feel free to come over this afternoon. I'll make you instant coffee and a cheese sandwich.