Sexual objectification, my arse, Madonna!

Kind of despite myself, I enjoyed the recent Jonathan Ross Show featuring Madonna (and no-one else).

That she didn’t have to share the sofa with a bunch of ghastly luvvies or thick TV presenters made it all pleasantly watchable.

I think Ross probably went off the pre-arranged script with some of his questions ...

 

Madonna frowned at him a few times and shot him what passed for a few dirty looks (I think that’s what they were; on a face as immobile as hers, that’s had so much treatment, it’s hard to discern the exact meaning of attempted facial expressions).

But Madonna was mostly game for the duration of this show, and it was nice to see her back in Britain. She made it big here, after all, before she did in her native territory across the pond.

And I think there is something quite British about Madonna, strangely; something essential to her personality; not connected to her marriage or residency here.

I think of her as an ‘honorary Brit’ and I certainly mean that as a compliment.

I don’t think she should be dressing in such an over-sexualised way at her age, mind, but I will forgive her that transgression.

And I don’t think the likes of Miley Cyrus should be doing that sort of thing either; it’s demeaning to her also, as a young woman. Nor do I think that Madonna should have defended Miley’s antics to Ross. Madonna's arguments about that on the show were rubbish. ‘Objectification’, my arse, if you get my drift …

But she is Madonna. She’s achieved a lot in her life. She’s given millions of people, including myself, a lot of pleasure. I fondly remember dancing like a tit to ‘Borderline’ and all those early hits, for instance, back in the day in Norwich. Thanks, Madge!  

Welcome to the Cretin Land that is British TV

MAYBE I’m just a jaded old fart, but I find almost everything I see on telly in this supposedly fabulous, digital age, not just boring but profoundly, worryingly depressing.
The general output across the UK freeview channels (the only ones I can be arsed to receive) convinces me that both the content providers of TV, and the viewers, are just so very thick, and their behaviour juvenile and repetitive.
The only programmes I actually look forward to watching these days are Coronation Street, Scrubs, and Harry Hill’s TV Burp. Perhaps I should add that I thought the Rab C Nesbit Crimbo special was also a blast - as indeed was an old repeat of the subversively philosophical Scottish sitcom which I saw just the other night.
Everything else is… shite, frankly.
Let’s examine the evidence … endless cops and docs pap (YES, including Whitechapel) … hysterical karaoke contests such as the Eurovision confection currently under way … the campfest Dancing on Ice … a ridiculous Pimp My Ride show featuring that idiot maracas merchant, Bez, from the Happy Mondays … and the absolute moron-fodder that is Hollyoaks.
Then there was something I watched about a Scrapheap Challenge which featured middle-aged men behaving like excitable schoolboy nerds ... and the return of Jonathan Ross' chat show with him greasing up shamlelessly to Tom Cruise (wot, no questions about Scientology?!) before asking the actor whether he farted in bed with his wife.
Modern telly, eh? Garbage piled upon garbage.
I was going to say that at least through January we’ve had a rest from seeing those lip-glossed bimbos Girls Aloud prancing around like sex industry workers as they did all over the Christmas period, but then again I’m sure while channel-hopping the other day up they popped again … or maybe it was just a bad dream.
Can anyone remember a single Girls Aloud song? The Women’s Liberation Movement struggled in vain and punk rock was futile if these cheap, tacky, groin-thrusting airheads are considered good.
Contemporary TV lacks the following qualities: good writing; and a different take on life other than that defined by our ailing pop music industry, tired old sex jokes, and the dead hand of a reality TV that's packed with celebrity-lite no-marks.
In future postings I will, of course, continue to have my say on the monstrous mess that is the TV industry, but I shall also be focusing on other weak spots in the culture of our country (Britain) and that of the wider, crumbling, degenerate West.
Keep the faith,
Sam.

All those mediocrities gathered in one place…

THE foul-mouthed gorillas missing from the National TV Awards (ITV1, 29 October) were, of course, Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand.
But with or without those two smirking, overgrown, overpaid schoolboys, the event was always going to be a dismal letdown.
The programme’s slogan was “all the glamour, all the stars, all the action”.
“All the faces you’re bored rigid with” more like, as cameras panned over no-marks from The Bill, Hollyoaks (officially, the world’s worst soap opera), Strictly Spandex, and Britain’s Got Crap Singers.
David Tennant won a gong again, but he decided not to turn-up to this annual tack-fest…which shows impeccable taste on his part.
Instead, he was busy doing real work (well, “real work” in actors’ terms) at a theatre.
But he was interviewed live, during a break from treading the boards as Hamlet, to announce he’d be stepping down as Doctor Who after next year’s shows were in the can.
A frisson on indifference ran through the audience…
Elsewhere in the show, a succession of American “stars” I’d never heard of sashayed on to announce the winners, including some ditzy bird from Desperate Housewives.
As for Paris Hilton? Why, why, why?!
EastEnders won an award again – presumably for putting middle class syntax into the gobs of Working Claarse Cockerney Characters from Central Casting.
Then Simon Cowell got a prize for force-feeding our country and other unfortunate nations his dreadful “talent” shows that involve public humiliation of people who are too stupid to know they are being exploited.
Thanks heavens, now that I’m reviewing television again, that I have an en-suite vomitorium in my living room.

I HAVE, of course, enjoyed seeing BBC executives squirm over the puerile and offensive broadcast by Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross.
Having read a transcript of the broadcast I was disgusted by the nastiness of it – and the arrogance of BBC “entertainers” who think there is no limit to how cruel, tasteless and cynical they can be.
At least Brand had the decency to resign.
It remains to be seen what happens to Ross. For the moment he’s suspended. So there will be no chat show from him on BBC television this weekend – which is no great loss.
But if I was a BBC boss I’d sack Ross – even though it might cost me millions of pounds in licence-payers’ cash to rip up his contract.
If a high price has to be paid for a return to decency – so be it.
And if the bloated, arrogant fools who run the BBC get a lesson in humility as part of this process then that will have come not a moment too soon.