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Monday, 19 October 2009

WEAK being the word of choice

As a sane person, I don’t see why people enjoy game-shows, seeing as it’s essentially watching somebody win unthinkingly large amounts of money doing some kitsch and ‘wacky’ question based entertainment, and I’m sure most people don’t enjoy seeing somebody else getting ‘LODES OF MUNEY’, which begs the question of why on earth loads of people watch this shows. The answer probably lies in the fact that for every winner, there’s usually 9 or 10 grubby little people who all fail miserably and go home with nothing but a crushing sense of low self esteem and an incentive to beat the cat, HA!TAKE THAT YOU IDIOTS! YOU FALL SHORT OF LIFE!
That or there’s nothing else on around 5.15, which is pretty much when ‘The Weakest Link’ barges into your living room, stubs a cigarette on your hand and precedes to make you its bitch for the next 45 minutes whilst you plead with it to take its heel off your neck. It’s been around for years now so I’m not going to explain how it works, it’s simply another ‘off the production rack’ style game show but with one deliciously vindictive twist. The players each vote for who they think should be kicked off at the end of every round, usually for reasons such as being a giant fetid moron or being more of a giant fetid moron than the other similar morons who populate this crude little game board of tedium. You may be saying “But Pete, they’re not idiots cause they is on a game show”, to which I say stop it because I can’t hear you; but yes, this isn’t entirely true, each episode usually has one or two likeable contestants with intelligence and charm who generally come across as interesting human beings. Unfortunately these thespian-esque Spartans are outnumbered by the rampaging hordes of dull, narcissistic idiocy of the Persian Army that is the other contestants. Watch this show and you’ll find yourself yelling at your TV as if it had just come alive and shat on the carpet; “HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW THAT!?” Is usually the common phrase hurled as these blockheaded dope-monkeys assume that ‘Dolly Parton was made an honouree Canadian mounty’ or Charles Dickens wrote the classic ‘Grey ex-spectators’, it makes you lose a small amount of hope in society, more so because it’s these feckless fools who usually always win.

The show is run by question master and occasional member of the Third Reich, Anne Robinson, a human being so grotesque and devoid of humanity it’s as if the Ebola virus had taken up host in a mannequin. Robinson is essentially 90% plastic and is what I imagine Peter Cushing would look like if he opened the ark of the covenant, only to have it closed half way through as his jaw began to unhinge and melt like a tan crayola crayon. In short, she’s a completely repugnant individual, sort of like a Nazi dipped in sulphur. During the show Robinson will probe the guests about their jobs, personal life, hobbies, amount of people they’ve murdered, essentially anything that she can use as a basis for some crude snarky comment. If you’re gay, unemployed or single then she’ll essentially come at you with all the tact and subtlety of a KKK member, you begin to wander why she doesn’t just drop the acid tongued insults and simply claw each of the guests across both eyes before each round before throwing a bucket of pigs blood on them to the sound of her own shrill laughter. Unsurprisingly Robinson is also a vocal supporter for Fox Hunting, just to re-iterate that she is in fact a colossal conceited arse.
So the show begins and we’re introduced to our hapless contestants, the unequivocally camp one, the sassy middle aged woman, the smug pretentious leering idiot and a decent human being, usually in the form of an elderly gentleman called John who is retired from his job of being a children’s entertainer or feeding candy floss to sheep whilst playing a harp, something fuzzy and cuddly like that. Anyway round one begins with the easy questions and usually the contestants get £1000 the first round. They’ll vote off whichever hapless sod was the slowest to answer, nothing personal yet, just observational tactics. As the rounds progress though, the voting usually becomes borderline tastelessness along the lines of “She’s too old” “She voted for me before” or “His shirt is so last year”, it’s essentially just a year 10 playground full of tweed shirts and smug pretentious tossers. There’s a short interview with each miserable failure after they’re voted out, usually them making some “I enjoyed the show” bull-honky or a suggestive pun regarding Anne “Oh if Anne ever wants to come down to my restaurant I’ll give her a good table laying”, the sort of comments that essentially make you vomit blood.
So we’re down to the final two, friendly charming John and DNA wasting amoeba twenty year old who’s got by on ungodly amounts of luck regardless of a lack of frontal lobe. Five questions each, John’s first question “In which year did Napoleon invade Italy?” COME ON JOHN!!! YES! Take that society! Right, first question for the flesh covered broom handle, “What animal is Mickey mouse?” OH COME ON!! ARGH! This continues until they both have 4 points each, John’s final question “1580 AD would have been part of which ancient Chinese Dynasty??” NOOOOO! Never mind John, Stooge boy is going to get a hell of a question next.
“What is a sock?”

Sod this...put countdown on.

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