Posts Tagged ‘Chris Moyles’

The Chris Moyles Podcast

November 10, 2008

chris moyles

As Radio 1’s weekday morning DJ, Chris Moyles has a lot of airtime to fill.

From time to time, he slips up, taking leave of his senses or saying something offensive – his ‘racist moment’ with Halle Berry being a case in point. At other times he’s allowed his guests to veer into offensive territory and not apologised on their behalf – take Rio Ferdinand’s casual homophobia as your example. As it happens, I find it difficult to hold this stuff against him.

I only know about those moments of madness because I’ve read about them. When he makes a TV appearance, Moyles comes across as boorish and uncomfortable in front of the camera, but his employment is as a disc jockey, so in the interests of fair-play it’d only be right to download the podcast and judge it on its own merits.

And surprisingly, it does have its merits.

Having endured George Lamb’s ‘cast this year and having found it to be little more than a handful of berks shouting in a room, Moyles and his pals have elements to their show that make it superior. They have that essential asset they call continuity. They also have (and I can’t believe I’m typing this) some pretty good gags littered about their material. I know. I was shocked too – but I actually chuckled at a song they wrote in a Eurovision audition with Andrew Lloyd Webber in which they mocked the fabric of the competition with lines like ‘everyone’s afraid of Russia’ and jibes about the Balkans’ monopoly on the votes.

All good stuff, but the delivery hints that it’s all very much prepared, from Webber posing as though he’s not aware that it’s a set up to Moyles’ supposed reaction to his charge’s work. They’re slick when it comes to the banter. Too slick, in fact, for this to be the off-the-cuff stuff it claims it is.

There is, of course, a huge amount of dross. Where the likes of Adam & Joe fill their filler with childish but amusing blabber, Moyles and pals resort to talking utter shit. But at least it makes sense. Frequently sexist and rarely self-aware, the opening banter between two of the ladies in the studio about bra sizes led the big man to explain that their conversation had caused to him thinking about their two forms indulging in a lesbian embrace. He then added that the idea did nothing for him.

Not funny, not relevant, no point whatsoever.

Later, a discussion about Daniel ‘Dead Wife’ from the X Factor which started pretty well degenerated as ‘X Factor’ turned into ‘Breast Factor’. Presumably Moyles isn’t allowed to use the word ‘tits’ at that time of the morning, and the fact he’s forced to use the word ‘breasts’ makes it all the more sinister. He turns from the lad he wants to be into the sinister berk he actually is, waffling on about boobies when nobody else cares about his mother complex in the slightest.

The show is littered with your standard wacky (80s-style) sound effects and crrrazy incidental music, all of which presumably wake up your average listener as they struggle over breakfast with a hangover, but all of which serve to make the banter barely audible at best and migraine-inducing at worst.

The Smashie and Nicie comparisons don’t stop with the irritating external noises. There are constant references to great mates and in the 25 minutes I listened to, Cheryl Cole, another one from Girls Aloud, Fearne Cotton and Gary Barlow were all mentioned as Moyles prematurely trailed his participation in a Comic Relief stunt a year in advance. And to make matters worse, he then started slobbering over the thought of Fearne C with all the grace of a sex offender. Skin-crawling stuff.

Despite the drivel he comes out with, and even though I lasted just short of half an hour, I can see why Moyles has the job. He does what he does and is what he is. His show may be a pile of shit, but it’s very slick shit. You may be glad you’re not in the studio with him, but everyone seems to be having a fun time. Compare this to Lamb’s show where the forced laughter actually sounds like it’s causing tonsilitis and the jokes are witless, repeated catchphrases.

Time to get back to ignoring Moyles. Let the man do what he does best – entertaining idiots. He might eventually go away.

Commercial Breakdown

August 3, 2008

According to the biography on his website Jimmy Carr is “one of the most original and distinctive stars on television, radio, stage and the big screen” which is particularly interesting as he’s currently reading an autocue of other peoples material to a canned laughter track, having taken over a position once filled by not only Jaspar Carrott, but also Rory McGrath, Jim Davidson and Jon Culshaw. Wow. Jimmy Carr must be a megastar.

There’s two sides to Jimmy Carr – one is an award winning stand up comedian and the other is a clip show veteran who has a penchant for taking anything offered to him, both of which cancel each other out. Carr may very well be a talented performer but his work on the stage is eclipsed by his shit-trawling TV work, equally his variety-act level TV patter would be perfectly acceptable were it not for the fact you know that at heart he believes himself to be an edgy comedian who’s taking the money and reigning himself in.

Take Commercial Breakdown, for example. It’s a footnote in the schedules, a lazy half hour filler of foreign purchasing that was barely noticed when it reappeared on our screens so exactly why does it need to be hosted by “one of the most original and distinctive stars” on TV? Actually, it needs to be hosted by someone famous so it’s not just like searching for ‘funny advert’ on YouTube and surfing for half an hour, but why would Jimmy Carr feel the need to take it when it’s clearly below the quality threshold of someone meant to be “one of the most original and… blah blah blah.”

The thing is, Carr knows his days are numbered. Like a fat man at a buffet he is grabbing all he can because tomorrow he may not eat – Commercial Breakdown may fucking awful TV aimed at people who can’t find the remote and teenagers hoping to see a nipple, but at least it’s work.

And so Carr stands behind some kind of funky podium and expands his views on the adverts we’ve just seen – well, I say his views but what I really mean is the views of some junior production runner who was allowed access to the typewriter. He stands alone, the backdrop some kind of leftover virtual shimmy from Auntie’s Bloomers and the laughter clicks on and off when necessary.

No need for an audience, no need for a set and no need to make a programme; just grab some shit adverts off a foreign broadcaster, throw a ‘personality’ for hire infront of an automated two camera vision mixer and have him read the autocue until the egg timer goes off and the tape stops recording. It’s pretty much the same format as You’ve Been Framed, except that’s voiced over by Harry Hill who makes the programme worth watching, Commercial Breakdown is just a bit sad because you’re not sure which are more desperate – the adverts or Jimmy Carr.

So the programme is an autopiloted piece of filler, barely worth anyone’s time let alone a viewer’s, but you want to know the saddest thing is? The truly deep down heartwrenching proof of the pointlessness of Jimmy Carr and his involvement with the show? He couldn’t even get his name above the title, and it would have been aliterate as well… Jaspar Carrott managed it, hell- so did Jim Davison and he’s a racist dinosaur whose name doesn’t even begin with a C. Jimmy Carr, though, “one of the most original… etc” comedians is usurped and beaten in importance by funny adverts from foreign countries.

There’s one important thing to mention, though, before this post is over. The biography on Jimmy Carr’s website where it claimed him to be “one of the most… etc” comedians goes on to say “with 2007 looking just as exciting”. That actually explains a few things. Back in 2006 or whenever his promotions company commissioned a copywriter to squeeze out some nondescript bumpf it looked like Jimmy might actually be “one of the… etc” but now, in the harsh light, he’s just another smug talentless lump taking the money and running.

It’s a commercial breakdown alright, just a different one to what we were expecting.

Big Brother’s Big Mouth

June 1, 2007

Fucking goon Russell Brand made his name through Big Brother’s Big Mouth, a show which seemed destined for failure from the off. Unknown presenter, no-budget set, limited material… it all seem somewhat empty. Given the fact that the only issues the audience would be able to discuss would be Big Brother related, it seemed like even the 20 odd minutes of time the show ran for would be light on content. But nobody (aside from Endemol) banked on Brand’s personality clicking with the national mood. His flights of fancy were often ludicrous, but he’s an erudite man with a very large vocabulary and an extraordinary gift for crafting sentences, so we forgave him all the talk of ball-bags and swines. The fact of the matter is, Brand was like an accommodating schoolteacher in his manic John Stapleton role, lurching around the seating areas, sitting on laps, poking his microphone into peoples faces. One second he would declare love for audience members, the next he would squeal at them in a Kenneth Williams voice, berating them for being ‘orrible pigs’. The format worked and in many ways was far more watchable than the main BB show itself.Sadly, whether it’s due to the Shilpa Shetty race war business or the turnaround in his career trajectory, Brand has opted not to take part any longer. A shrewd move, some would say, rather like a rodent hurtling itself from a sinking ship. I heard Brand wouldn’t be working on the show around March, though I don’t remember any press release being issued, just rumour and word of mouth. Clearly Endemol felt that if the news got out, Big Brother would be cursed. Let us not forget that Brand was their success story, where Davina and Dermott have institutionalised themselves by working on their own strands of the BB wig. I can’t see either of them successfully fronting their own shows in the future. Remember Davina’s talk show outing? I’m trying to forget it.

In the interim, a few rumours circulated about how this void would be filled. The strongest of these was that Peaches Geldof, offspring of a sanctimonious old anachronism and herself a vapid waste of molecules would be fronting BBBM. I, and I hope the rest of the show’s audience, was astonished and bemused. But then even worse news arrived. The Peaches rumours were unfounded. Chris Moyles would be fronting Big Mouth.

Chris Moyles.

Chris fucking Moyles.

Oh Christ. Thankfully it would only be for a week, and the role would be rotated among other celebrities – at least this is what we can interpret from the garbled mess of crap emenating from Moyles’ anus-mouth last night.

Moyles, for the uninitiated, is a sexist, occasionally clumsily racist, sweating micro-penis who fronts Radio 1’s breakfast output alongside his mate, ‘Comedy Dave’, the living misnomer. Every morning they bleat on about Leeds United (relegation’s what you need), birds and beers, garnering decent ratings because they appeal to the vast majority of the populace – i.e. other idiots. How Endemol thought it would be a great idea to replace a handsome, witty and manic presenter with a pot-bellied hog with the grace and language skills of a backwards walrus is beyond me.

Last night, his second attempt at fronting the programme, Moyles didn’t exactly impress. He waddled around the arena where Brand used to bounce round it, Tigger-like. He repeatedly called any male guest ‘fella’, probably the most annoying salutation since Maxwell called all and sundry ‘geezer’. He mocked one of the contestant’s weight, when that contestant probably weighs a stone or two less than him. In the past, he has been picked up by Haile Berry for having a ‘racist moment’, yet he decided a member of the audience ‘looked like Beyonce’, despite the fact there was no resemblance whatsoever besides skin colour. In addition to this, he insulted several other members of the audience without any semblance of humour, as bales of tumbleweed flew by.

The man is an arse. I hope this rumour of a week-long tenancy are proved to be true, otherwise Endemol, if it’s possible, have dumbed themselves even further into the dust.