8:22am Tuesday 16th June 2009
By Alan Molineaux
As a committed reality TV watcher, I have to make a confession; I have completely fallen out of love with Britain’s Got Talent and its transatlantic cousin America’s Got Talent.
You may think it’s the sight of Simon Cowell’s T-shirts or Piers Morgan’s smugness that has tipped me over the edge.
It was, however, the news that a Yorkshire lad got rejected without even getting the chance to sing a note. With this in mind, I watched a recent highlights programme to see what standard of acts get through to perform in front of the panel of judges.
My suspicions were confirmed as act after act of the deluded, the talentless, and, in some cases, those who clearly needed a certain amount of protection, were paraded before the baying crowd.
If, as we have always suspected, there is a rigorous screening process, then it is being used to deliver to the judges the oddities of life. You would have hoped that they were just looking for the country’s talent, maybe with one or two novelties thrown in.
This last series, as well as the American version, has shown that the producers are more bothered about shock and humiliation rather than a true search for talent.
In this environment, the thousands of hopefuls are merely cannon fodder before the panel and the audience.
It’s a good job real life isn’t like that; can you imagine if my family let me do all the things that I think that I am good at? I would be trying to front a rock band, going for try-outs with my favourite football team, or entering a TV cooking competition.
In order to protect me from myself, the Molineaux family have developed a number of tactics. My daughters will often raise their eyes heavenward as a sign that I have become more embarrassing than they can bear. Mrs M will compliment my efforts in a way that clearly lacks the encouragement needed for me to progress further.
My wife’s ultimate weapon in ensuring that I don’t enter any ideas that I have any real talent is to give me a list of jobs to do during any free time that my busy schedule allows me. My daughters add to this by booking me to drive them to and from their social activities. Thus ensuring that I am somewhat distracted from my overall aim to be famous as either a footballer or a rock star.
The contestants of Britain’s Got Talent have to get past a series of junior producers to enter their goal of having an alternative reality. I have an extra layer of protection available to me; namely my loving family.
They ensure that the only alternative reality I have is as a family chauffeur.
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