under an awning
I wait and smoke. rain has no
consideration
‘Britain’s Got Talent’ is back, hosted by the ubiquitous Ant & Dec, and judged by the odious Simon Cowell and his marginally more interesting sidekicks Amanda Holden and Piers Morgan.
The beauty of this show, of course, is the crazy people who seem convinced that they’re entertainment gold. Some of them, due to their sheer audacity and a surreal quality which is hard to define, are entertaining in themselves, certainly more entertaining than the troupes of hopeful screeching pre-teen schoolgirls dancing around the stage in identical frocks.
The first act, for instance, was an elderly gentleman whose only wish was to play the theme from Star Wars on an electric organ. Armed with his copy of ‘The Complete Keyboard Player’ he launched into a reggae version of the theme, which was well-received by all but Mr Cowell, a man so devoid of humour that he rose from his seat and pressed the other judge’s red buttons in order to get the act off the stage.
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