Finding an opening

I've been out of work for a long while now, drifting through dozens of jobsites and roles trying to find something I could do, or at least a company gullible enough to take me. Fortunately I finally found something I knew I would succeed with on grapevinejobs.com.

The job's description was fairly light on details, the company name not given and the specific role other than 'budgeting and camera work' was vague. There was a line about being able to admire and respect the female body though...

Reading between the lines I ascertained the role was for a camera man and general work horse for a porn company.

Perfect, I thought. I sent off my CV along with a covering letter that they assured they needed.

This is what I decided to send in the covering letter.

I've been a long time admirer of your industry and I have a fascination in the technical and administrative details of such a broad and diverse world. I have been known to research information for long periods in my own free time, I've even been found researching in the middle of night, gripped by a sudden urge. At times being found in these throes has been embarrassing due to my single mindedness.

On the one hand I don't have any real experience within the field, but on the other hand I have bundles of energy and inspiration and I believe if I can just find an opening I could succeed.

I look forward to hearing from you.

It's been three weeks and they haven't responded yet...

Almost Staying On Topic of 'Deborah 13'

Deborah 13, a new documentary on BBC3 just goes to prove how much religion should be destroyed and banned the world over.

In essence, Deborah 13 is a one hour documentary based around a girl called Deborah Drapper. She's 13 year old lass who lives at home with her huge arse family, all deep evangelical christians.

She barely leaves the house, is home taught by her extremist parents and spends every moment describing people as sick, twisted souls destined for eternal damnation. In one point in the documentary she is seen out and about her local town, handing out 'tracks' to the 'Yoof' on the street. Tracks are those little bastard fliers you see brainwashed non-thinkers on the street hand out to the uncaring public, thinking a couple of lines from the bible (the world's most famous novel) will turn you into a god fearing servant of the lord.


We see her in her house, listening to creationist videos as she falls asleep, saying grace at every meal, and reading stories from the bible to her younger brothers and sisters. Her love for god is un-shakeable and after being taught that the word of the bible is the gospel truth, pun very much intended, science is a load of bunkum. Her and her older brother discuss the surrounding hills and mountains, arguing that it must be intelligent design. Even at one point she has the grapes to claim that there is 'no scientific evidence' for the big bang.

Now, I'm shite when it comes to science, but I do know that scientists have measured the expansion of the universe (I read somewhere they estimate it at about 5.7 billion light years across) and that the vacuum is still slowly 'cooling' after that first, catatonic explosion. Although there are arguments about how the big bang kicked off, there is still proof within the cosmos that it did happen. Deborah's argument against the big bang is that all science can be proved through the principles of 'theory, experiment which can be repeated, results and their further explanation of the world around us'. It's known as the scientific method and it's worked pretty well so far. But of course you can't re-create the big bang, therefore it's just a 'belief', a term they use without irony.

This is what I don't get about Christians, although actually lets not just stop with them, any and all religions that don't agree with science or at least the founding of the world. They argue that scientists lie and make this shit up, that it's a massive conspiracy shared by all academics around the world. Although the question pertaining to this is, why would they lie? What possible reason would they have to 'duke' the results of when the dinosaurs existed, the links of human evolution, the formation of Sol and our solar system, any of it? There's no financial remuneration in it for them because the only people that actually buy scientific journals are the same people that write them.

I think one reason is that because science is such a complex academic route that not everyone can study or work within it's fields (take me for instance). Therefore the knowledge of our continuation lays with an elite few, with ideas and theories much more complicated than the average Joe can rap his head around. With this elitist idea in mind some complete cock ring thinks that they are making all this up. These 'science fellows' are laughing at the rest of us as they spend all their time and lives working in labs and hospitals, coming up with vaccines for illnesses, developing new strains of crops to feed the increasing population of the world, you know, pointless shit like that.

Anyway, back on track to Deborah 13. As Deborah tours the local town berating children, she asks them if they think they are good people. Now I'm certainly not the saintliest man on earth, no that's the ex-child nazi The Pope, but I consider myself to be a good man. I don't get into fights, I always pretend to be interested in what other people say. Occasionally I'll even give money to beggars (10p last time), but on the whole I'm alright, I'm a normal person with the same faults as everyone else.

In the show everyone on the street says the same as this (it'd be strange if you said 'no, I'm a psychopathic pervert with a fondness for collection women's noses and pickling them) to which she then wheels out her secret weapon, fear.

'Have you ever lied?
'Yes'
'Have you ever coveted something?'
'Yep, nice jacket by the way.'
'Have you ever taken gods name in vain.'
'Christ, I can't stop myself.'
'So you yourself admit you're a lying, coveting blasphemer.'
'Well, you're kinda putting wor...'
'Do you still think you're a good person.'
'Actually, when you put it like that, I'm a bit of a cu...'
'You're going to hell.'

Yes, if you've ever lied to a friend (no, you're face looks fine, in fact that fall has made it look better than before), then you're going to burn in Satan's hell pit. Oh and believe me, it won't be like the hell in 'Old Harry's Game', it'll be like being stuck in the Big Brother house, without alcohol, for eternity.

Now I do hate religion, oh so much. But I tolerate it. If you want to waste your life under the pretence that everything in this existence is a pile of wank and something better exists beyond, then go ahead, I'll waste my life on the xbox trying to get all 1000 achievement points on Halo 3. But don't come up to me and wave your bible in my face, preaching the word of Godol and claiming I'm a sinner. Don't force me to sit in an assembly when I'm at the impressionable age of 7 to sing 'All Things Bright and Beautiful', every day. Don't try and de-rail science by demanding a sticker should be on the front of books claiming that 'evolution is a only a theory and as such, should be approached with an open mind', while demanding complete devotion to yours without FUCKING questioning.

Don't knock on my door to tell me how much of a bad boy I am, while not even offering sex to make me feel good, yet so dirty. Don't buy up poster space telling us that god does exist and he'll make you mother-fuckers pay if you don't subscribe, yet complain to the fair trading committee when the atheist society retaliates with signs pronouncing 'god probably doesn't exist'.

What gets me with this documentary is how much paradoxical rubbish spews from her parents. They have home-taught all their kids because they don't want them taken over by the state. They do it to keep them away from bullying, getting involved with boys or things that may lead them astray. How the hell are you going to survive in the real world? The school I went to wasn't exactly a tough nut school, but it certainly had it's share of arseholes (first week in, two girls were expelled for waiting at a bus stop for a girl they disliked, with a baseball bat). I got bullied, I got picked on, my first three years were horrible, pure agony. But I got through them somehow, able to stand up for myself, or at least direct the bullies to someone weaker. I used to stand up for my school, explaining to my family and people in other schools that you need to interact with violent, aggressive, manipulative gits, after-all you will spend the rest of your life working alongside them. School isn't just book learning, it's learning to how to survive in reality. Taking your child out of the system is a terrible show of arrogance and elitism. The justification that you can learn everything from home is horribly flawed as you only get the parents perspective. I'm pretty sure they don't teach her science.

Most of all though I feel sorry for Deborah. Alright she's this nutjob girl who's got life and reality all wrong, but it's not her own fault. She believes she found god when she was 6 and there was no influence from the family. Hard to believe when every waking moment is spent in the eyes of god. Every morning, bible reading, grace at the table, the ten commandments printed out and stuck onto a board in the kitchen, taught by evangelicals. How can you not fear the 'almighty' in that situation? Most girls brought up in a nunnery don't come out as satanists or convert to Islam. They come out god fearing christians or catholics. 

When I see Deborah, judging and damning everyone to...well, damnation I can see two lives forking out in front of her. One of them will be what she's in now. She'll meet a man at church, an evangelical like her and they'll continue the system her family have created. It will stretch out in front of them, their lives infected and diseased by their own manipulated parents.

The other is going completely off the rails. Maybe the curiosity will get to her to watch this program about her, where upon she may realise something of herself. Suddenly she's off the rails, damning god where she damned so many others before, trying to become a typical girl of her age with gusto and the feeling of fleeting, lost time. Going out, meeting boys, alcohol, drugs, but all to excessive amounts. God knows what mental state she will end up in, but I wouldn't want to see a follow up to Deborah 13 when she reaches 26. Either fork she takes will lead her down a way which isn't her fault, but lays with the parents.

Ironical as it is, God Bless you Deborah.

Richard Laxton's 'Grow Your Own'

Never ever heard of this film before a rental copy appeared in my living room, I suppose it wasn't that popular on release, although why I can't understand. I. Fucking. Loved. It.

First off the main role was Benedict Wong, a great actor and comedian, most known for his role as suicidist in Sunshine and of course, Errol in 15 Fifteen Stories High (if you haven't watched it, fuck off and watch it now, I command thou).

The title itself threw me off, it sounds too similar to one of the many bad Engcoms that get released every year. I know before I've tooted on about how some of the best comedies come from Britain, and that's not patriotism speaking there, I fucking hate this country, it's more from an analytical viewpoint. But I mean the ones just full of whacky characters, all set in middle-class quaint Britian, Love Actually for example.

In fact I want to quickly take a side-rant here. Is it only me who was absolutely cunting disgusted with what Richard Curtis put into the start of that film? Paraphrase: 'When the planes crashed into the two towers the people on the planes didn't send messages of hate on their phones, but of love.' An unforgivably despicable use of an event which has changed our world, and will no doubt reverberate for years to come. It's like saying Hitler wasn't wrong, just misunderstood. Cunt isn't strong enough to explain the revulsion I have for him. And yes, I understand it may seem a bit harsh to compare Curtis to Hitler but in fact yes, Richard Curtis is the filmic equivalent of Adolf, the poncey fuck faced dick shitting etc. etc.

Ahrum, back to the film. First off the setting. Like most Engcoms it's focused around a small community of people, all part of something quaint and fairly British, something most of us here can relate to, or know a degree about. In this case a set of allotments. Most of us might not have one or use one, but we know what they are, and we have an idea of the type of people who may have such hobbies. Plus since it's British we can't help but chuck in a bit of the old class warfare, social inequalities and immigrants.

In 'Grow Your Own's' case it's do to with immigrants and how they are perceived by the English, specifically ones of a fogey persuasion. The age group that are of the majority on an allotment. The premise of the film is that a governmental immigration group are helping out people with problems. How do they do this? By giving them a patch of land and letting them grow their own food as a hobby. The idea being, fresh air and working with your hands will help them mentally and give them a place of respite. They manage to get three different immigrant groups into the allotments in this film as well. A South African mother and son who's father is dead and are trying to get through it. An Iranian family who are in constant fear of being deported or sent to a detention centre. And then there's the core family, Benedict Wong and his two young children. All three have escaped from China for reasons I won't explain because it would ruin the most emotional scene in the film. Wong's character has broken down mentally after losing his wife and is incapable of doing anything by himself. His daughter has taken the role of parent and looks after her dad and younger brother.

There's the English trademark of complex romances, pathetic characters overshadowed by their fathers, unstable marriages and general unhappiness. An unhappiness which is somewhat relieved by their escape from the stress and depressing nature of day to day life in their 'plots of heaven'.

When the group of immigrants first come to the allotments the locals all team up, disgusted with the 'invasion' as they call it, and want rid of them. Not to mention generally being ignorant or rude to them. That is until all three groups start ingratiating themselves with the locals, showing them they have something to give back. Things take a more complex curve when a real horror of a woman comes from a phone company to install a telephone tower, and the locals have to decide which one of the three immigrant families has to lose their plot.

The comedy itself is sublime. It's never over the top, and the writers haven't tried to force jokes into every scene or sentence. I wouldn't say they're few and far between, but paced well enough to let the drama play without unbalancing it. Everyone has a story to tell and although several of the characters aren't too well drawn it doesn't matter as such, after all we're not interested in everyone on the allotments, only the core 8 or so characters.

Benedict Wong plays the most interesting of the three families. The play of emotion across his face gives you brief glimpses into the horror and fear he's suffered throughout his life, which is certainly handy since he speaks very little throughout the film. Also there's no flashbacks to help you understand his suffering, but that's because you really don't need it, his eyes say it all. It's remarkable how much emotion he can cram into each scene.

Like most small Engcoms there's a whole host of old and new famous Brit faces, something you'd rarely find in a American comedy, since they all demand high wages.

There's the old social commentary going on, not thrust in your face like a bad tea-bagging incident, but there to see if you want too. The chairman of the allotments was a policeman of 35 years. Yet despite being a supposed 'pillar of the community', he's a selfish, racist biggot, who wants his way or nothing at all. Each of the characters also seem to be hopelessly lonely, their day-to-day lives and marriages not giving them what they want from life. Even in the allotments there are divides between the characters, but when your plot is your bastion of self, it's not surprising why.

And the way it's shot, beautiful. It's somewhere between the lines of the grimey, odd angled shots from 15 Stories High (see, you need to go watch it) and a gritty BBC dramatisation of something or other. None of the houses that you briefly look into are Holly Oaks perfection, but much more how you're house would really look. The allotments also have that day to day feel, the sheds are cramped, dark, smeared with soil and generally, well, real.

Basically if I ever made a film, I hope it looked and worked like this one.

Dubbing

Dubbing, I fucking hate it. It ruins a film completely. I count it as being even worse than having a grandparent in your living room watching a film with you, asking you every two minutes if ‘that one there’ is the baddy, if it’s on video or television and, worst of all, what’s going on/what’s going to happen later on. That’s a walk in the park compared to a dubbed film, although if both are mixed together in my presence somebody will die….

The primary reason why foreign films get dubbed is because the distribution companies believe that the general populace are either; A) Too stupid to read or B) Don’t want to look at the funny writing at the bottom of the screen for most of the film. So, they get some voice talent in to jabber on top of the original dialogue, trimming and shortening sentences due to grammatical or spatial differences between the original language and the replacement. What you tend to up with after the cutting, chopping and squeezing of the dubbing is at least one of several problems.

Emotional Impact

First up is the lack of emotion transferred across languages. Part of an actor’s ability to act is the way their voice is projected. Big tough warrior=deep gruff voice. Somebody close to the protagonist dies, cue sad, soul wrenching, emotional stylies. Somebody gets a nasty shock, that typically means: yelping/screaming, high pitched tonal accentuation to their voice etc. This is what you lose in the cross over. The voice actor wasn’t there in the scene, they don’t have to physically get involved in the action on screen, they just watch it on the screen in the audio booth. So, try as they might, they just can’t get the emotional depth into their voices. Another is what I stated above, cutting and chopping. Say if in Russian an entire sentence of information or emotion can be expressed with a few words, somehow the voice actors have to cram the English equivalent in, which means speeding up their speech to fill the small gap, yet again losing the emotional impact. Check out any of the dubbed Jet Li films (Twin Warriors being a great example) and you’ll see what I mean.

Choice of Voice

This never, ever works. You ever watched the Simpsons in German? I plead you, go have a scout around on-line, it’s hilarious because the voices are so wrong for the parts. The same can be said for dubbed movies. The casting crew can never seem to get it right, the voices are too deep, too masculine/feminine/Americanised (yet again the soft spoken voice actor they normally use for Jet Li) etc. it’s rarely correct. Sometimes they grab famous actors to do the dubs (most of the major Studio Ghibli stuff, Steamboy et. al.) which really doesn’t improve things, because it still doesn’t work.
Miramax

Miramax, my long time enemy. Not only do they cut and paste films around to suit the American palate more (which in effect renders the point of the film useless) but they can’t abide the idea of subtitles. Do any of you remember Shaolin Soccer? The Stephen Chow film about kung fu football masters. The original film is somewhere near the 2 ½ hour mark. The Weinstein’s cut this down to about 1 ½ hours and got some talent to speak over the original. Fair enough they did get Stephen Chow to do his own English speaking voice-over, but they completely recked that film. Despite Miramax being one of the biggest importers of foreign films to the American market, they can’t let them be. When hero was released several years ago (a film that the Weinstein’s paid well over the amount they should since they thought it would be ‘the next crouching tiger’) it was ‘Presented by Quentin Tarantino’. What that essentially meant was that taratino asked them not to cut the film down, add voice overs, or do a single thing to change it from the original. As such it was subtitled, and was the full version. Which I thought was brilliant. The film would have been terrible if changed in any way. Although admittedly it made very little money in the box office, but rarely films do when released on the 26th of Dec, it’s a dead day for film releases.

Lip Synch

Is it just me that finds it disconcerting to see the actors on screen speaking out of synch with the voice artist? It’s damned off-putting.

Conclusion

The argument for dubbing is, of course, that it makes foreign films much more accessible to the general public, generating more revenue and making it easier to disperse it across the cinemas. But really that’s somewhat anathema to the film. Most foreign films don’t interest the populace because they can’t get over the cultural differences, un-Holly Wood plots or ideologies. If you really enjoy a foreign film then it’s because you want to see it exactly the same way the director wanted you to see it, voices and all.

3 Series Rule

3 Series Rule

This rule applies more to comedies than other form of television program, as such that's what I'm going to focus on for this little rant. The 3 Series Rule is quite simple, many sitcoms, sketch shows and mockumentaries don’t survive three series. By this I mean that either by the third round the show will either jump the shark (a phrase coined after an infamous episode of ‘Happy Days’ that means the show has become overtly ridiculous), or will lose sight of what originally made the show so damn good in the first place.

Gimme Gimme Gimme is a good example of the rule. Albeit a show lost in time and memory it was still extremely funny, or at least from my remembrance, 'There's no such thing as gay, it's just laziness'. I remember tuning in to see these two hapless protagonists scheme, drool and dick about after any man that was unfortunate to be written into that weeks episode. Gimme Gimme Gimme aspired to the classic underdog formula which has survived the decades and created many of the best comedies in the English lineage. However, by the third series the show lost it’s edge, the characters original charm had been lost. One critic I remember reading described the decline in quality being down to the show’s writers attempting to capitalise on what made the show so popular in the first place, stretching and milking it for all it was worth. Of course this saturation turned the fickle audience away and after series three it disappeared into the depths of static, only to be found now on DVD rather then repeated on any digital channel.

The same happened to Coupling, series three lost the chummy, sexually explicit yet socially acceptable banter it had generated over the first two series, and it turned into a farce of itself, being overly rude and deigning more and more ridiculous plots. And series four, lest said the better.

Aside from the writers trying to package and re-sell the original charm or humour of a show, another sure-fire to get your series dumped is too replace key characters (coupling again in S4) if they’ve left the show. After watching 12 or more episodes we’ve come to learn who these characters are and their overall impact on the show itself. Replacing them, especially with a character reminiscent of the one ‘that got away’, just feels odd. It’s like coming home to find the hamsters died and your mum’s replaced him with a parrot, it just doesn’t feel the same.

The plot or story itself is another problematic area for a third or subsequent series. With a now-set cast it’s difficult to introduce new characters into the fray, which means you have to re-cycle old gags, romantic ties between the main personalities of the show or, worse of all, change locations or situations. Look at friends, albeit hugely successful and astonishingly making it’s all the way to a 10th season, it became a somewhat inbreeders paradise. The six characters got together in a myriad of ways throughout the series. The show became introverted, obsessing over each of the six rather then bringing in many other new single use characters. I admit they still rocked up here and there, but with the constant flickering of romances, most especially whimpering prick Ross and vain, dull Rachel. Once you had Ross and Rachel together again along with Chandler and Monica that only left two other characters to look for romance outside of the circle. And that wouldn't do because they were the male and female 'comedy relief', which is I admit a strange phrase to use in a comedy.

The jokes themselves are another problem. The writers probably only expected a single series, so they chuck all their best gags into it, which of course turns it into a big hit, since laughs is the name of the game in comedy. So when they’re contracted to make a second series or more, they need to think up new jokes to keep the comedy going, only usually by the second or third series they’re more interested in the big fat paycheck they’ll get, rather than for reasons of love or care of the show. Although I should say here I’m not tarring every comedy writer with the same brush there, some do genuinely love the show they’ve created and nurtured. The Red Dwarf creators have been through hell and high water trying to secure money to continue making the show (series 8 had the same budget that Victoria Wood’s Dinnerladies had), and Graham Lineham did an impressive and surprising amount with Father Ted, which would of continued if it wasn't for 'Ted's' death.

Although many have fell on the wayside, some shows have stood up and broke through the barrier, in some cases making their best episodes in later series’: Red Dwarf made it to 8 series before getting the chuck; Only Fools and Horses, Black Books, Dinner Ladies, Bottom and others made a third series just as brilliant and fresh as their earlier ones. Last Of The Summer Wine has now been going for 24 fucking series! (Which also makes it the longest running comedy in the world).

On a special note I should mention Blackadder, a comedy which defied the norm in practically every way. Whereas normally we get a main character who is a nice character, or at least cheeky but loveable, Ben Elton gave us ‘Slack Bladder’. A character so cruel, spiteful and selfish you couldn’t help but cheer him on for success. Elton even survived the locational problem of comedies, filming each series in different timelines and surroundings. Although it kept the same core characters the situations had changed; from a soldier in the trenches, to a Elizabethan court hanger, to a prince’s butler, yet it was easy for us to follow the new plot of our anti-hero, (underdog formula of course). It’s also widely accepted and agreed that the final series ‘Black Adder Goes Fourth’ was the greatest and funniest of all four. Ben Elton, and grudingly I suppose I should also tip my hat to Richard Curtis did an impressive and unique thing.

As shown, there are exceptions to the rule, but that’s mainly down to the law of averages. Yet for every one survivor, many, many more succumb to themselves. Some shows are so constricted in their ideas, characters and plot that further episodes rend the original charm and quality null, the show devours itself, and a final series that is seen as bad, tarnishes the preceding ones. The sign of a good comedy writer is one that gets out while the going is good, Spaced, Black Books and The New Statesman among many others knew when their time was coming up, when the situation wasn't going to allow for much more. Besides which, changing up of a show allows for something new and different to appear. If we lived in a world of nothing but sequals it would be a shite world indeed.

Ben Elton

Got a suprise when i went into my local library this morning. After sifting through the Andy Mcnab's, Catherine Cookson's and Katie Price books in search of something worthwhile, I found a couple of Ben Elton's hiding away. I've always loved Elton's books, and I agree whole heartedly with 'High Society', his thinly veiled ideology on legalising every drug. It makes a lot of sense when you actually sit and mull it over, although you'll have to stop screaming 'think of the children' if you want it to sink in.

Anyway that's not what this entries for. I found one of his books, 'chart throb', a satirical story that delves into modern reality TV and, brilliantly, talent shows. The very thing i was ranting about last night, and Ben Elton has the same disgust of it as I do. Brilliant!

Although of course Elton doesn't have so much opinionated rabble rousing going on in his story as opposed to my blog entry, which makes his case against this schlock much more enjoyable to read then mine.

I'm only a fifth of the way through it so far, but by gum it's well written. If you're one that's into your media (either in hobby or profession) it discusses, quite candidly, a lot of the background of so called reality TV, and the amount of storyboarding and planning that goes into it.

A light-hearted critque on the arsehole that is simon cowell

Simon Cowell, a man who has single handedly destroyed out television and music industry more than peer too peer file sharing networks, albeit in a different way. This bastard has done it primarily by monopolising prime time TV and creating numerous ‘talent shows’. Yes, the terrible little shows that used to appear in a large town or a school fund raising event. The sort of thing you’d sit and watch with trepidation, grimacing at the parents of the talentless sods on stage as they glance around the audience to see the reception their child’s rendition of the minipops is getting. This, THIS is now prime-time family enjoyment, only the ‘entertainers’ are older and the money won’t go to charity or a kids skate park, but Simon fucking Cowell.

First off was pop idol, thousands of simpering sods who’d perform like chained bears for the perverse schadenfraude attitude of the general public. Grumpy Simon and the other judges, with no real explanation as to why they have the right to expel or recruit said members of the public. But they do, successfully culling anyone not above an 8 on the attractiveness scale, and anybody with an original vocal style (i.e. anybody who doesn’t sing in trans-Atlantic Aguilera warble style). After Pop Idol came the infinitely more popular X Factor. A damn near identical program that showed Cowell, the show’s producers and the viewing public are happy to make/watch template TV time and time again.

Last year I entered the X Factor for a laugh with some friends of mine, partially to get out mugs on TV (obviously in the really bad auditionies section) and also I wanted to see how the show and screening process was conducted. As unsurprising as it sounds it’s nothing like it looks on the small screen. The way it’s brought across on screen is that Simon cunt et. al. sit through and rigorously snigger, berate, ridicule and smash the dreams of contestant after contestant in a nice studio-esque surrounding.

Is it fuck! The first initial day of ‘casting’ consists of about 200-300 group singers (which, if you are stupid enough to apply to the X seriously I’d advise this route, it’s much cushier than being a solo singer) and 17,000 solo ‘artists’. All initial casting is done on the first day and first day alone where massive swaths of hopefuls are kicked out of the competition. As such it’s physically impossible for the 4 judges to see the entire population of a small town in one day, not to mention a logistical nightmare for a camera crew to record every single person and then scan through for the best applicants to go on the show. The judges do appear, indeed they do. For five minutes. For the camera. The real judging on the first day is delegated to less famous people who have the difficult challenge of getting a balance of actual quality singers and humdingers we can laugh at from the comfort of our heavily arse-indented sofas.

On the second day of auditioning even more people are swept away since the ‘off-air’ judges have more time to size them up. It’s not until the following weekend that our shiny faced, TV arsehole judges get a go at ripping those selected to shreds, in a modern day version of verbal scourging.

Admittedly the very ‘structure’ of the show itself has been well thought out. The show starts out with the auditions. We see the hopefuls have a go, with an occasional sob story chucked in if the film crew have been tipped off about a ‘contender’ by the off-air judges. In this technique the X Factor works like any famous British comedy since television started. The tale of the underdog attempting to leave their pitiful prole life, in dispersed with heart wrenching emotional scenes and outright comedy, maybe even a catchphrase or two (i.e. steptoe and son). We gleefully laugh at the tone-deaf, hyper-active, ugly or simply crap caricatures of humanity, before sitting back dewy-eyed at their wish to impress their dead relative/lover/friend (delete where appropriate) who recently died and who quite liked the song they decide to enter the audition with.

As time itself has shown, the mixture of heart-wrenching sadness and laugh-out-loud humour is one very successful technique to pull in the audience, and keep the buggers there. Yet there is another technique the X uses, or to be more precise, cranks up to 11. In fact it’s the very core of the show itself. Like the office, the mockumentary with Ricky ‘sphincter necklace’ Gervais, it’s the use of cringe. Although the difference is that the X is real, unlike the office. Shudder, at the women with the lopsided face, screeching out Robbie Williams ‘angels’, sounding like a hawk that’s found its prey. Gasp, at Cunty Cowell's derogatory comments to the woman whose husband died shortly after writing her song. Grimace, as the young lad tries to jig along with a track by N-sync, forgetting the lyrics as he twirls.

Yes the audition section of the show is by far and large one of the most face-scrunching events to shit all over our screens in many a year, even more so than that pussy sequence with Calloway. But we love it, it appeals to our schadenfraude aspect, in much the same way Cowell does. He’s a tosser, but because he’s so candid we can’t help but slow down as we walk past the telly, rubber necking it, wondering what’s he’s going to say next.

And through the car crash of humanity and its many delusions come striding our victors, the few of the many applicants that can sing and look ‘proper buff’ (to use a phrase I hear continually from people when commenting on these hopefuls). It does seem strange that beauty seems to bless those that can also sing like angels, odd that. Although saying this there have been a few 7 or lower on the lookers scale (some of them have been fat!) These oddities are there for two reasons 1) they are actually that good the rules are broken for them. And 2) because the judges didn’t fill up their quota of black or disabled people.

Due to the popularity of the introductory ‘car crash’ episodes people instinctively choose their favourite singer to win. Be it for aesthetics, vocal style, or because they seem more ‘real’ then the others, it’s something we can’t help. You watch something like the X and you instinctively ‘pick a side’, I’ve even caught myself doing it, and I fucking hate the X. As suck you start watching the competition section of the X factor, rooting for your singer (some people are even stupid enough to actually ring up). And if they get kicked out the contest? Doesn’t matter, no doubt you’ve already chosen a substitute, plus one of the singers you will no doubt of grown to dislike and as such will continue to watch to see if they get the boot too by the bastard firing line (judges).

Thanks to shows like pop idol and X fucker the other channels have now started rolling out their own variations on the theme, you can’t get away from them anymore. Fading now are the old gaudy quiz shows with the jolly old presenters who you’re sure must be popping off to the toilets as often as possible, the sort of quizzes that strode across Saturday night family enjoyment. Instead we’re handed pants like ‘strictly come wanking’, ‘Britain’s got twats’, goit is the word, ‘tosser with the camply bright coat’ and whatever other dregs are being scraped out of the barrel as of late.

In reality these talents shows are another extension and evolutionary branch of the Big Brother, I’m a Celeb etc. reality TV family. Which is a bit like having a flightless bird, but now we’ve got ones with 4 wings. Interesting, but pointless. And there’s definitely been some inbreeding along the way.

Another thing to take note is the effect these shows (and I’m mainly looking at you X Factor) have on the music industry. Back in ye olden days we would gripe, bitch and whine about manufactured bands. They didn’t have the real soul of music, they were made for monetary reasons, they’re just chosen for looks etc. etc. etc. but now. But FUCKING NOW we celebrate them, revere them, get them to the number one slot and keep the fuckers there, even if we’ve got to hold them against the wall by the throat. Betting company aren’t taking bets on the Christmas number one until 2010, when the X Factors current contract runs out. It’s hyperbole, what exactly have these people done to deserve our collective praise?

Sure, they’ve been on the telly, beaten other contestants to reach the final, but I bet you any rock group or non-royalty singer/band have struggled for years and years. Living on the bread line, facing refusal after refusal, and still able to collect enough energy to struggle upright and continue onwards. They deserve a lot more praise then any X factor winner. They’ve battled for 12 weeks? Fuck ‘em. Most bands have been going for years before they hit it big. Nickleback got it’s name from the lead singers job in Starbucks (here’s your nickel back). And how exactly do these winners contribute to the music industry? Their songs aren’t even theirs, either it’s royalty written, or covers of tracks from the year dot, that most people have forgotten of or never even heard of before. I give her dues Leona Lewis has song her own material, but I doubt she wrote most of it.

This annual celebration of mass-produced, user-friendly, accessible-branding, wholly mainstream sludge is trashing our music industry, a field widely regarded as unmatched for raw talent worldwide, which I’m sure is to change if this continues.

So as a plea from someone who loves what our TV and Music was. Fuck off Cowell and give us back our individuality, your greed is destroying what most hold dear.

You cunt.