Thursday, April 24, 2008

On sudden death elimination

On sudden death elimination

H. Willoughby: Puppy smuggler100% of FACT: One in every 10,000 boxes on Deal or No Deal says "Punch Noel Edmonds in the face".

I have said on many occasions that TV reality shows that offer "sudden death" elimination should stick to their promises and offer just that.

This concept would, I think, add a certain edge to proceedings, and would – quite naturally – ensure the contestants' commitment to their new-found, fleeting fame.

Just think how excellent Dancing on Ice would have been had a stricken Bonnie Langford been seen into the next life by a lightly-oiled Holly Willoughby with an AK47, jiggling frantically as she empties an entire magazine into the former child star. And there's always the chance – for we live in hope - that a stray bullet might do for Schofield.

Or, The Apprentice, where "You're fired" takes on a whole new meaning.

I mention this once again on account of my having the misfortune of viewing ITV’s dreadful, shouty Gladiator-lite programme “Beat The Star” last weekend, in which boxer Amir Khan was goaded into wearing a ridiculous 1970s tracksuit for a series of pointless tasks against a blue-clad Plymouth copper.

Despite the claim in the trailer regarding “a member of the public who would rather die than lose”, I was utterly DISGUSTED to see that gurning beanpole Vernon Kaye they let him live at the end of the show without even the merest whiff of a pistol-whipping.

They promised blood and we got none, and I would have been on the blower to the ITV Duty Office in an instant had I not been forced by the nice doctor into wearing the boxing gloves again.

Of course, if the pleb won, they would be allowed to – quite literally – Beat The Star within an inch of their life.

Sanity restored as I switched channels just in time to see an Uzi-toting Graham Norton saying – without any hint of irony whatsoever – "Sorry, you're not a Nancy", as the screen faded to black.

Or maybe it was the Blue Nun and those lovely red, red pills kicking in. Again.

It’s like The Late Late Breakfast Show never happened.

Tomorrow: It is Toad Rage. TOAD RAGE. So shut up about it already.

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