Reality Bites.

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There is very little I like about Winter. At a push, I’d say I welcome the season for an excuse to drink more red wine and eat excessive amounts of carbohydrates. Today, I even had my first mince pie. Admittedly it was a free sample at M&S, but having a mouthful of Father Christmas did almost lull me into a false sense of excitement for the coming festive period. I like the endless parties in December and the general acceptance of diamante and glitter about one’s person on a day to day basis, but on the whole, I’m a summer gal. 


That being said, as the nights draw in, I am rather partial to a spot of TV watching. Make no mistake, I am far from a television addict, for 6 months after the digital switchover I was restricted to a total of 3 TV channels, 2 of those being aimed at the under 12’s. Is it any wonder my laptop got a battering, thank God for Red Tube … I mean You Tube. 

As Christmas approaches we appear to have an influx of reality TV shows on our screens, and before I go on, I must stress that I am fully aware of the detrimental affect on one’s brain such drivel doubtless has, but, to my shame, I must admit, on a cold Winter’s night, I am, in a ‘dribbling out the side of my mouth’ sort of way, drawn to ‘I’m a Celebrity …’ A show which, not only has me squirming into my sofa, but seems to inevitably end in a couple of nervous breakdowns, extreme hatred amongst it’s contestants and gratuitous nudity on a daily basis. forget sequins, if I’m selling my soul to the devil on a Saturday night I want to see some cock action … without having to pay an anonymous Polish techno-wiz to de-virus my computer on a monthly basis. (but that’s another story). 

Given my natural curiosity and pleasure at others televisual mental instability and misery, it struck me as quite an interesting twist of irony when I received an offer a few days ago. 

‘… We’re currently developing a brand new television documentary follows the lives of a number of women, each in a transitional period in their lives, for several months. The big twist being, the women themselves film their lives (a bit like a TV blog), they have full control of the filming and there is no crew involved.
At the moment we are looking to talk to sharp, insightful women from all different backgrounds, I was wondering if something like this might be of interest to you…


So far so good. 

I won’t deny, in a state of curiosity and self proclaimed vanity I was tempted by the idea. So much so, that I replied to said inquirer questioning the programme further. A TV blog you say, all about me? How fabulous. What could be more entertaining than a weekly episode of a 30-something single mother steadily working her way through 3 bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and talking about mastering the art of a decent blow job. Simon Cowell on speed dial by Easter I’d wager. 

And then the catch. 

The programme, nay, the ‘chance of a lifetime’, which I was being offered, was not only a documentary on ‘sharp, insightful women from all different backgrounds’  but also called …

Young, Single and Desperate. 

WTF. 

So, just to clarify. A group of TV execs have spent good time and money hot-desking in a glass studio, investing staff and resources into creating the next big reality show/fascinating documentary (Come on now, who doesn’t love a good oral debate) and the very best, the absolute pinnacle of creativity they could muster, with regards to a name, was ‘Young, Single and Desperate’?? and Lord knows, I am as fully aware of this generation’s unhealthy desire for unjustified fame as much as the next person, to go further still, in a moment of foolhardy vanity I was almost tempted myself, but who, pray tell, on God’s great earth, would subject themselves to fronting a programme with that title.
Added to which, and I’m no TV producer, but the ‘big twist’ being a hand held camera?? that’s not a twist! A grandmother exposing herself as a pay-per-hour prostitute halfway through the Queen’s speech on Christmas day, a long term girlfriend telling you over a candlelight dinner, in front of the nation, that she was born a man, that’s a twist! Tsk.. what is wrong with these people, I swear I’m in the wrong job. 

I would like to imagine that there’s not a soul in the world who’d subject themselves to such humiliation, sadly I am probably wrong. Anyone that has every seen ‘Embarrassing Bodies’ will know that there are supposedly sane people wandering the country happy to get their infected bell end or disfigured vagina out for 5 minutes of fame plus travel expenses. 

Said emailer claimed to have discovered my blog and thought me perfect for the show. Eh? ‘Cynical old bitches with an unhealthy interest in criticising every aspect of the male race’ Now that’s a programme I could work with. Sadly though, that’s not the title and being far from young, far-ing from single and the only thing desperate for is my sodding TV to be fixed so I can start watching Homeland again, I think they’re knocking on the wrong chick’s door. 

I wish them every success in their hunt, but this time, I’m going to have to pass. Come back to me when you want my opinion on the perfect BJ … now that’s going to win you the ratings war. 
katyReality Bites.

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