I'm sitting here in protest of the latest Big Brother. Skanks, cranks and wanks. Okay, so i've never sat down to dinner with any of these people (but I imagine in the following weeks of around the clock devotion by the nation and also by my better half I will, at some stage, sit through a meal with the most talked about people in the land), and I'm sure there are one or two of the contestants whom I would probably like. I just can't imagine giving a fuck, in all seriousness, about anything these people do, think or say other than to turn up my nose at them in a huff of imagined intellectual superiority.
Do I wish I could follow BB and be interested? On some level. My whole life I've struggled with being an outsider. Different to the current flock and maybe a little bit socially dyslexic (yes yes and normal dyslexic too.... I've seen my spelling!), but when it all boils down I'm afraid I just don't find BB all that interesting and on many levels I'm almost disturbed by it.
Big Brother is now in its millionth year and it's obvious the phrase 'quality tv programming' left the minds of television executives many years ago. What scares me the most about BB isn't the fact people are a) making this crap or b) willing to be filmed for this crap but that people lap it up. This isn't just a show people watch, it's a show they consume. It's watched, talked about, pored over and debated like politics.
Somewhat like I'm doing now...
Okay, so I haven't blogged in a while. It's not like there has been anything of interest in the news of late. A general election, war, The Big Dubya, rising oil prices, Chelsea winning the league, the absolute sex appeal of Jose Mourinho, the amount of money Wayne Rooney's girlfriend, Colleen can spend in a month (100k for those who are interested....) or even the fact that is has been a year since I moved to Scotland.
The vote for boredom which was the British general election was barely an eyeraiser. Unlike last years US election which oppressed upon us as though the fate of the free world was at stake, the British election was truly like the poor country cousin. A local beauty pageant in the church hall compared to the Miss Universe competition. Having said that, I really don't fancy seeing Tony Blair or The Big Dubya in the swimsuit section...
The war? War? Which war? There's too much shit going on and too many people spurting out useless, ill informed opinions, I'm not even going to bother.
Now, Wayne Rooney and his girlfriend Colleen, there is a different story. The new 'Posh and Becks' of British football. They are more chav than chav. As if to prove the saying 'money can't buy you taste' the nouveau riche footballing 'heros' and their charming wives and girlfriends have frightened me away from one of my childhood dreams - becoming obscenely well off over night.
Posh and Becks aka Victoria 'posh spice' Beckham and her footballing idol turned advertising blank canvas, David Beckham have something Wayne and Colleen don't have - nicknames. Like slogans, these easily identify the brand. They prove a link between the product and the ideal, concept or brand they are trying to promote. With that in mind, I'd like you to help me out here. I will be counting down the days until I hear this used in the main stream media in Britain, which to be honest, I'm surprised they haven't already come up with already.... I know christen Wayne and Colleen 'Cranky and Skanky'