Reality TV, Anything But…

Another season or Australian Big Brother has started. Hooray hooray, let this day be heralded throughout the land as the day that… errr… oh damn, I lost my train of thought.

Reality TV is the new Prozac, deadening our senses and killing off brain cells faster than a bucket full of Tequila Slammers. And the funniest thing of all is that this form of television is as close to reality as a 21st birthday party is to alcohol-free.

Put a group of people in an enclosed house, or maroon them on a desert island with no food or whatever, then stick cameras in their faces and ask them to “act natural”. It doesn’t work, and it never will. What you end up with is stressed show offs trying to be anything but who they really are.

Then there are the media “Personalities” that host these shows. Gretel Killeen used to host BB until she was axed (more like mercy killing) to make way for Jackie O and Jabba the Hutt, oops, I mean Kyle Sandilands. These two want to “shake it up” and “mix it up” while the rest of us “throw up” at what they laughingly call entertainment.

Yes, Jackie and Kyle are going to save Big Brother from another year of television mediocrity by causing all sorts of shenanigans in the BB household. At last, a refreshingly new take on BB that we haven’t seen since… LAST SEASON.

Honestly, how much more of this pseudo voyeurism crap will we have to put up with until Ten finally puts a bullet in the entire concept. Oh wait, maybe they could have some controversy that will get blown out of all proportion in the media, that should save it. It will have to be something bigger than a turkey slap though. Maybe they could seriously injure one of the housemates this time.

I guess the only way forward now is if BB could persuade one of the housemates to off themselves in front of the cameras. Then we would have to have celebrity suicide shows, then “Hunt a Celebrity” and Celebrity culls until there’s no one left to present any of this mindless drivel.

Hmmm, I may be onto something here, and just think of the royalties. In the meantime I’m off to turky slap Sandilands… with a real turkey.

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