things i overhear:
‘it was some rap gospel shit!
what was that about?’
‘Britain’s Got Talent’ rolls on through Britain, dislodging the strange, wonderful and downright disturbing, like bugs from under a rock.
Bellydancers, teenage boys who can balance footballs on their heads, eighty-four year old strongmen and enough dancers of various sorts to populate a small european principality.
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t put any dancers through at all, although I was impressed by the two men last week who did an act in which Michael Jackson was interrupted by a fat Sikh cleaner and they did a dance-off against each other.
Ultimately, yes, dancers are talented, but there needs to be an extra dimension to bring them to a level where they can compete with singers, comedians and bullied choirboys (the sympathy vote goes a long way).