Just a Thought – Jade on LivingTV

My interest in reality television runs its course when a series ends. The resulting deals – guest spots on the Tuesday Night Project, tabloid coverage, Heat covers, OK covers, Hello covers,  Now covers, Next covers – they’re all for morons, right?

Right.

So what the hell is going on with the coverage of Jade at the moment? The bizarre, sentimental freakiness of the last few days is enough to turn the stomach – both at the soft-focus, Max Clifford exploitation festival it’s becoming and also at the outright hypocrisy that’s dribbling out of the television and from the mouths of idiot journalists.

It’s not just the tabloid press. The higher-minded (but just as manipulative) broadsheets and nightly talking heads are also enjoying a spurt of repulsive self-analysis, disguised as altruism and goodwill. I’ve seen features on Newsnight and in The Observer and The Times – and no doubt I’ve missed many others.

Jade Goody occupies a very weird position in public knowledge. She’s the epitomy of the untalented celebrity, celebrated for nothing. Her normality is what made her famous and with fame as her ultimate aim, once she reached that peak there was nothing left for her to do but milk it. She was born without a silver spoon and with no talent to speak of, so all she could do was sell herself. And bizarrely, people handed over their cash.

The worst thing about this current state of affairs is the presence of circling vultures, literally waiting for the death of their prey before they can cash in their chips. So – I’ll share a few of my questions before my head implodes at this phenomenon.

• Who is actually watching LivingTV’s ‘Jade’ – her new reality show in which the casual, morbid voyeur can watch a familiar face degenerating and dying?
• Isn’t this a shameful enterprise, devoid of actual, meaningful content and consisting of nothing other than celebrity death?
• It’s tasteful enough when it’s onscreen, but isn’t the screen soiled with sensationalism and grotesquery when the show’s switched off?
• Who is that buys ‘Hello’ magazine so they can gawk at shots of Jack and Jade sharing their last, personal moment in front of millions?
• How much does Max Clifford make in all this?

Jade and her family are being exploited to the tune of a few a thousand quid, earning it in a grim race against time so they can chuck soiled notes in a gaping grave. It’s as simple as that.

‘Ah’ – they counter… ‘but who is exploiting who?!’

As they say this they make that ‘aren’t I clever?’ face and raise an eyebrow as though they’ve made the most brilliant and insightful second hand comment in history. And, to be fair, it’s a difficult question to answer – the money she’ll receive will be monumental… but where’s the soul? The dignity? The meaning?

Can somebody let me know?

Big Brother: Celebrity Hijack

Having announced that there would be no Celebrity Big Brother this year, Endemol then sneakily delivered this uppercut. No celebrities involved, just a load of potentially successful youngsters and celebrities acting as Big Brother, in command of the housemates. Interesting. Of course, they’re still irritating, constantly talking about how they can do amazing shits. But at least they’re a cut above your Maxwell and Aisleynnes, i.e. they have brains and aren’t just malicious spuds on sticks or pointless tit-carriers.

All of this is a good thing as it means nobody with a Jade Goody-like brain turned up, dragging their Victorian freak-show mother behind them and a big pair of stupid plastic wangers up front. Nobody involved, so far, has been irredeemably stupid. Watching the show is fractionally more pleasurable as a result as there’s not yet been any genuine spite – spite being the stuff critics say the likes of stupid-old-me tune in for.

It’s also better because there aren’t as many of the bastards to remember. And they’ll only be around for 12 weeks so those of us who are weirdly addicted to this rubbish will be spared the horror of Week 24 when racist foodfights, footage of people sleeping and unlikely and revolting sexual couplings tend to happen out of the contestants’ sheer boredom.

In terms of celebs, we’ve had a couple already. Firstly, Matt Lucas was effective, literally getting inside the head of housemate John via an earpiece and utterly humiliating him as soon as he entered the house, commanding him to act like a tit as his new pals entered, one by one. The highlight was the moment he was commanded to drop to the floor and scream ‘I’ve got cramp’. Inexplicably amusing. Then they revealed to everyone else it was a set up, relieving the tension before it could’ve got nasty, with the rest of the house bitching about the weirdo Scotch man.

It bode well, but then Ian Wright (who, being a gooner, I happen to have a soft spot for) turned up and started acting like a big fanny, blathering on about his charity work, apropos of nothing, and eyeing up the totty – of which there is admittedly a bountiful supply.

So let’s go through the housemates before they disappear into obscurity, despite their talents.

John: Aforementioned Scottish youth activist. Of gargantuan size. Eager to please, which is grating, but reasonably smart. Kilt was ill-advised. Got into hot tub on day one, forcing others to crush themselves into tiny corners in order not to make bodily contact with him.

Jade: Unfortunately-monickered beauty queen. From some angles incredibly beautiful, from others resembles a confused death mask. Desperately eager to please, which is grating, but has a top botty. And let’s face it lads, that’ll do us. Apparently a straight ‘A’ student, but she must’ve cheated.

Liam: Freakish boy/man/monkey with a thriving media-based business, the like of which I could never comprehend. Occasionally speaks, but happily keeps it to a minimum. Seems more concerned with the fact that his wig is on horizontally than with the fact he is on television. Wears stupid pants.

Latoya: Reserved and possibly calculating dancer who seems indifferent to anything other than watching herself doing the odd bodypop. Interesting haircut undermined by a seemingly small brain lurking somewhere beneath it.

Anthony: Successful boxer. Looks like a thug but turns out he’s quite the gent, and an affable one at that. I’ll give it two weeks until he aimlessly punches a window and gets asked to leave.

Calista: Musician who can certainly play a good piece on the old Joanna, but whose lyrics are, being harsh, shit. Desperately eager to please, specifically when it comes to Jay, but is so innocuous he can’t even remember her name.

Nathan: Mobo winning R&B type who let himself down badly when bum-sucking Ian Wright (he must be an Arsenal fan). That toadying was a real off-putter. Also, being over 21 and middle class, I don’t know what ‘stoosh’ means, so loses points again.

Amy: ‘Artist’ who is likeable enough, but whose talent consists of ripping off better artists. Looks like Vivienne Westwood as played by Heather Mills.

Jeremy: Racing driver with the snidest face in the house. Looks like Pete Doherty after a collision with Harry Potter in which much bile was spilt. His face is constantly in sneer-mode and it’s weirdy endearing. Is so calculating, the only explanation is that he smuggled in a calculator.

Amelia and Victor: Brother and sister contortionist combo. Circus performers who, in the words of Amelia, can ‘put their asses on their heads’. He is as thick as pigshit, and so is she, but she can put her ass on her head, which is probably sexually impractical but makes the mind-boggle all the same.

Jay: Bruno.You know Bruno? That Borat spin off? That’s Jay. I need say no more.

So Big Brother is back, in a very slightly different format. I suggest you revert to your usual BB default mode – complete ignorance peppered with the odd nasty remark when the subject is raised by others or complete, embarrassed immersion and self-disgust. I’m in the latter camp, sadly.

Enjoy…