‘why were you angry?’
but we spoke in two tongues.
‘let’s talk weather then!’
My mother rang up to say she watched ‘Britain’s Got Talent’.
‘I don’t know why that dancing lad won!’ she said. ‘I voted for the sad faced bullied schoolboy singing ‘Pie Jesu’ in a grown-up suit with his shirt hanging out.’
Showing posts with label Britain's Got Talent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britain's Got Talent. Show all posts
Monday, 2 June 2008
Saturday 31 May 2008
ten pence she asked for,
then a cigarette. later,
she asked me again.
Robert The Bond came round this evening to join us for The Ugly One’s posh sausage and bean casserole (Welsh Dragon Sausages, made from real Welsh dragons), and the final of ‘Britain’s Got Talent’.
This year it was a pretty bizarre selection, featuring a surprisingly large contingent of dance acts, two teenage classical singers, a dancing dog, an electronic girlie muzak quartet and a singing plumber.
I was confused by the singing plumber. Apparently he was good enough to get to and through the semi-final to the last ten. I had not seen him before, so he must have been in one of the earlier shows I missed.
He chose to sing ‘Imagine’ and none of us at home could see anything remarkable about him at all, apart from the fact that he’s a plumber who sings. The judges seemed to agree, and it seemed the plumber’s fate was sealed like a brand new U-bend.
‘Signature’ were my favourites; a couple of Indian guys who did a kind of dance-off between Michael Jackson and a fat sikh. (You have to see it to appreciate it really).
However, they came second. Third was the sad faced bullied schoolboy singing ‘Pie Jesu’ in a grown-up suit with his shirt hanging out, and first was George, a teenager who did a robotic, breakdance-style version of ‘Singing In The Rain’, complete with rain.
Now he gets a hundred thousand pounds and (more importantly, according to The Cowell) to perform in front of Prince Charles himself.
I’m still baffled as to why 99% of the performers were fairly swooning at the thought. ‘Ooh, it would be such an honour!’ being the favoured phrase of the series.
Why would it be? I really am at a loss to understand.
then a cigarette. later,
she asked me again.
Robert The Bond came round this evening to join us for The Ugly One’s posh sausage and bean casserole (Welsh Dragon Sausages, made from real Welsh dragons), and the final of ‘Britain’s Got Talent’.
This year it was a pretty bizarre selection, featuring a surprisingly large contingent of dance acts, two teenage classical singers, a dancing dog, an electronic girlie muzak quartet and a singing plumber.
I was confused by the singing plumber. Apparently he was good enough to get to and through the semi-final to the last ten. I had not seen him before, so he must have been in one of the earlier shows I missed.
He chose to sing ‘Imagine’ and none of us at home could see anything remarkable about him at all, apart from the fact that he’s a plumber who sings. The judges seemed to agree, and it seemed the plumber’s fate was sealed like a brand new U-bend.
‘Signature’ were my favourites; a couple of Indian guys who did a kind of dance-off between Michael Jackson and a fat sikh. (You have to see it to appreciate it really).
However, they came second. Third was the sad faced bullied schoolboy singing ‘Pie Jesu’ in a grown-up suit with his shirt hanging out, and first was George, a teenager who did a robotic, breakdance-style version of ‘Singing In The Rain’, complete with rain.
Now he gets a hundred thousand pounds and (more importantly, according to The Cowell) to perform in front of Prince Charles himself.
I’m still baffled as to why 99% of the performers were fairly swooning at the thought. ‘Ooh, it would be such an honour!’ being the favoured phrase of the series.
Why would it be? I really am at a loss to understand.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Saturday 10 May 2008
while i was asleep
it rained and people rang me.
the world carried on.
Having got very drunk last night, I did not get into work as I had planned to do. Instead I spent a quiet day at home with the Nintendy playing Solitaire.
‘Britain’s Got Talent’ is an overly optimistic title for the show in which the deluded and desperate compete for a chance to perform in front of Prince Charles in the Royal Variety Show.
‘It would be such an honour,’ most of them say, bafflingly. Additionally Simon Cowell, who last year was an expert on what the Queen would like to see, has now become just as adept at knowing the tastes of Prince Charles.
A nondescript gentleman walked on with a violin bow and a saw and proceeded to play it quite professionally.
‘Do you really think that is what Prince Charles wants to see?’ The Cowell spat acidly.
‘Yes!’ replied Piers Morgan and Amanda Holden who also obviously feel that they are in mental communion with the Prince of Wales.
‘You couldn’t be more wrong!’ said The Cowell, with a flounce.
What The Cowell fails to realise is that this sort of act is what Variety Shows are all about. The clue is in the title, Cowell. Variety, traditionally, is a celebration of the odd, the grotesque, the strange and the comical and should not be judged by someone who rates every act by how much money it can bring to him personally.
This week auditions went to Glasgow where the audience – as is traditional for a Glasgow venue I am told – were more vicious than the Cowell himself. A group of Scottish Country dancers were booed off by an almost entirely Scottish audience.
Ant and Dec, the genial Geordie duo who provide the commentary and comic relief, have had their haloes tarnished a little this week, through no fault of their own it has to be said. When ITV hosted the comedy awards, the production team contacted Robbie Williams and asked him if he would like to present an award. Robbie agreed, on condition that he presented an award to Ant and Dec.
It appears that the viewers’ vote for favourite show was actually won by Katherine Tate, but ITV changed the result to show that Ant & Dec won, simply to ensure Robbie Williams’ presence on the show.
Ant & Dec have now agreed to hand the award back. I hope they get a group of their Newky mates to get the producer of the Comedy Awards behind a shed somewhere and give him a good kicking.
it rained and people rang me.
the world carried on.
Having got very drunk last night, I did not get into work as I had planned to do. Instead I spent a quiet day at home with the Nintendy playing Solitaire.
‘Britain’s Got Talent’ is an overly optimistic title for the show in which the deluded and desperate compete for a chance to perform in front of Prince Charles in the Royal Variety Show.
‘It would be such an honour,’ most of them say, bafflingly. Additionally Simon Cowell, who last year was an expert on what the Queen would like to see, has now become just as adept at knowing the tastes of Prince Charles.
A nondescript gentleman walked on with a violin bow and a saw and proceeded to play it quite professionally.
‘Do you really think that is what Prince Charles wants to see?’ The Cowell spat acidly.
‘Yes!’ replied Piers Morgan and Amanda Holden who also obviously feel that they are in mental communion with the Prince of Wales.
‘You couldn’t be more wrong!’ said The Cowell, with a flounce.
What The Cowell fails to realise is that this sort of act is what Variety Shows are all about. The clue is in the title, Cowell. Variety, traditionally, is a celebration of the odd, the grotesque, the strange and the comical and should not be judged by someone who rates every act by how much money it can bring to him personally.
This week auditions went to Glasgow where the audience – as is traditional for a Glasgow venue I am told – were more vicious than the Cowell himself. A group of Scottish Country dancers were booed off by an almost entirely Scottish audience.
Ant and Dec, the genial Geordie duo who provide the commentary and comic relief, have had their haloes tarnished a little this week, through no fault of their own it has to be said. When ITV hosted the comedy awards, the production team contacted Robbie Williams and asked him if he would like to present an award. Robbie agreed, on condition that he presented an award to Ant and Dec.
It appears that the viewers’ vote for favourite show was actually won by Katherine Tate, but ITV changed the result to show that Ant & Dec won, simply to ensure Robbie Williams’ presence on the show.
Ant & Dec have now agreed to hand the award back. I hope they get a group of their Newky mates to get the producer of the Comedy Awards behind a shed somewhere and give him a good kicking.
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Saturday 3 May 2008
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).
‘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).
Monday, 14 April 2008
Sunday 13 April 2008
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.
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.
Monday, 11 June 2007
Saturday 9 June 2007
outside my window
the voices grate like crow-tongues
scraping at the night.
Paris Hilton has been sent back to jail. Hoorah!
This raises my faith in the American Justice system, but only a little bit. It remains to be seen whether she serves the remaining term of her 45 day sentence.
The Olympic logo debate rumbles on. Jonathan Ross, in his TV show, claimed that it looked like Lisa Simpson giving a blowjob, which, spookily, it does.
So far, the Olympic Powers-That-Be are standing firm, despite almost universal derision at the absurd , ugly and impractical design.
Talking of things absurd and ugly, Simon Cowell had a new show starting tonight, ‘Britain Has Talent,’ its aim to find an act worthy of performing before Her Majesty The Queen in the Annual Royal Variety performance. The trailer boasts ‘Three Entertainment Megastars’ (or words to that effect) as judges, which turn out to be Simon Cowell himself, Amanda Holden (most famous for being married to Les Dennis, having an affair with Neil Morrisey and then appearing in ‘Cutting It’ on BBC1) and Piers Morgan, one-time editor of News of The World and The Daily Mirror. They have big red buzzers which they can press when fed up with an act, and if all three judges buzz the act off, then they’re finished.
The hype surrounding the show, which as a bonus has the marvellous Ant & Dec adding their own subversive commentary on the acts backstage, tends to blur the fact that The Royal Variety Performance hasn’t really moved on since its heyday back in the Nineteen Seventies. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Queen is forced to turn up once a year for what is, if we are honest, two hours or more of at best, lacklustre performances from mostly has-been performers, the show would have been scrapped twenty years ago.
One has to ask also, what does Simon Cowell, or the other two for that matter, know about variety acts? He’s a music producer. She’s an actress and Piers is a newspaper editor/columnist/writer, and is rather dull.
Having said that, there is something gruesomely pleasurable in watching acts that have absolutely no chance of success burning and crashing in front of a live audience, almost literally so in the case of Chief Firewater and White Dove from Manchester, a flaming-knife-throwing act which nearly set the venue on fire due to the nervousness of Chief Firewater.
Like most viewers I will likely lose interest once the crazy auditions are over.
the voices grate like crow-tongues
scraping at the night.
Paris Hilton has been sent back to jail. Hoorah!
This raises my faith in the American Justice system, but only a little bit. It remains to be seen whether she serves the remaining term of her 45 day sentence.
The Olympic logo debate rumbles on. Jonathan Ross, in his TV show, claimed that it looked like Lisa Simpson giving a blowjob, which, spookily, it does.
So far, the Olympic Powers-That-Be are standing firm, despite almost universal derision at the absurd , ugly and impractical design.
Talking of things absurd and ugly, Simon Cowell had a new show starting tonight, ‘Britain Has Talent,’ its aim to find an act worthy of performing before Her Majesty The Queen in the Annual Royal Variety performance. The trailer boasts ‘Three Entertainment Megastars’ (or words to that effect) as judges, which turn out to be Simon Cowell himself, Amanda Holden (most famous for being married to Les Dennis, having an affair with Neil Morrisey and then appearing in ‘Cutting It’ on BBC1) and Piers Morgan, one-time editor of News of The World and The Daily Mirror. They have big red buzzers which they can press when fed up with an act, and if all three judges buzz the act off, then they’re finished.
The hype surrounding the show, which as a bonus has the marvellous Ant & Dec adding their own subversive commentary on the acts backstage, tends to blur the fact that The Royal Variety Performance hasn’t really moved on since its heyday back in the Nineteen Seventies. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Queen is forced to turn up once a year for what is, if we are honest, two hours or more of at best, lacklustre performances from mostly has-been performers, the show would have been scrapped twenty years ago.
One has to ask also, what does Simon Cowell, or the other two for that matter, know about variety acts? He’s a music producer. She’s an actress and Piers is a newspaper editor/columnist/writer, and is rather dull.
Having said that, there is something gruesomely pleasurable in watching acts that have absolutely no chance of success burning and crashing in front of a live audience, almost literally so in the case of Chief Firewater and White Dove from Manchester, a flaming-knife-throwing act which nearly set the venue on fire due to the nervousness of Chief Firewater.
Like most viewers I will likely lose interest once the crazy auditions are over.
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