Second Helpings

Reality Check

It's that time of year again already. The weather turns foul, the clocks go back, the shops fill up with gory costumes, fireworks and all things sparkly, useless and overpriced and I start my annual grumping session.

I dread the thought of the inevitable television adverts focussing on only one event and the aim to get us all to spend, spend, spend. One thing I appreciate about modern television is the ability to record or watch programmes on catch up, thus enabling us to zap through all the crappy adverts. Yes, hubby has got rid of his popping remote too, thank goodness.

One small consolation about my unfavourite time of year is that generally television programmes are slightly improved. I admit that as a big music fan I've always been keen to watch any programme that is music related. The competitions that started some years back I've generally enjoyed, both for the music and the joy of watching an ordinary person who has struggled through life like the rest of us, have their talent discovered, appreciated and gain the opportunity of fame and fortune. The stuff dreams are made of.

I remember the music my grandma played and sang, from Gracie Fields, The Laughing Policeman to The Place where the Old Horse Died. A real tear jerker. I recall my mum singing along to Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole and the big band music of Glenn Miller. I can see my sister sitting at the top of the stairs on her thirteenth birthday swooning over her new Elvis records and the sheer hysteria of being part of the Beatles era myself. But all these artists I assume were discovered and launched into the music world. Whether they were lucky or not is a debatable issue.

In these times we're used to manufactured artists and those who rise to the top through television competitions and public votes. There is no doubt there's an enormous amount of untapped talent out there and good luck to the ones who make it. But sadly, as with many things in our modern world, it's becoming trite, overdone and losing its initial pure, innocent joy.

I remember the few talent shows of yesteryear. Opportunity Knocks, New Faces and Stars in their Eyes, then the day an exciting new competition called Pop Idol hit our screens. The winner of that first show has had and still has a successful career, but since then things just seem to have snowballed out of control.

Now we have the X Factor UK and USA, The Voice, Britain's Got Talent, Americas's Got Talent, American idol and various spin offs. I find myself getting very confused over contestants and judges, as well as being amazed that I can now see Sharon Osborne on both sides of the pond on the same night.

And what of the contestants? They seem to get younger and younger and yet describe their presence in the competition as the best day of their lives and the end of the world if they don't win it. At whatever stage there are floods of tears and heartbreak whether they get through to the next round or not. Such drama. At their age I was knee deep in schoolwork and often subjected to far harsher words from teachers than any that come out of Simon Cowell' s mouth. The opportunity to become a pop star was unthinkable and our expectations of life very restricted.

Now it seems to be everyone's dream to be famous one way or another. After weeks of hysteria and amateur dramatics the winners are announced amongst buckets of tears from all involved. Then we'll probably never hear of them again or they'll produce an album the following Christmas and be one hit wonders.

I think I'm rapidly going off these shows, particularly as they'll be boxed between other competitive programmes involving dancing, skating, jungle survival, cooking, baking and even sewing.

Maybe it's time for a writing reality show. Give us a rough plot line, a starting sentence or a character description and viewers get to vote for their favourite stories. Publication for the winner plus a huge monetary prize of course. And if I won there wouldn't be a tear In sight.

Still, I better return to living in the real world, though I'm not sure where or what that is these days.