Reality Bites

I mourned the passing of Big Brother with the same emotional level as I might mourn the passing of one of David Cameron's turds. Yet like an irritating phoenix from some very depressing flames Channel 5 have decided to resurrect it. Whether you like it or not, television has gone reality mad once more and now it has spawned the new craze of 'scripted reality TV' that I like to call The Only Way is Chelsea Shore.

And I have a confession to make. I'm into it. It's the TV equivalent of masturbating, it's entertaining but you feel a bit guilty doing it, don't want to let your partner know how much you enjoy it unless they're happy to join in and would be mortified if your Mum saw you at it. In my defense, when you live next to a field and you're supposed to be writing a play anything will distract you.

At least I'm not alone in my shame. Our fair Nation has a fondness for scripted reality as evidenced by The Only Way is Essex recently winning the People's Choice Award at the BAFTAs. The media onlookers slack jawed as the fake tanned creatures tottered up to collect their award pushing past the apoplectic team behind Downton Abbey who were probably already on their way up to the stage. Having missed out for Sherlock Martin Freeman doesn't even attempt to hide his distain.

As a writer I've always previously hated this type of TV primarily as it makes the screenwriter redundant. I'm sure it's not much fun for the rest of the professionals either. Spare a thought for the cameraman on Made in Chelsea who has to sit in a shoe shop on the Kings Road for eighteen hours filming Sloane Rangers contemplating what Spencer is thinking (not much yah). Or for the editor working on Geordie Shore: "Did you want the shot of her throwing up in the toilet as a two shot with her friend holding her hair or a close up on the putrid spew itself?".

So friends, if you've never watched these shows then well done you'll live a long and happy life. And if you have then it's probably too late for you and you'll be stuck until the series is over. It is a terrible addiction, far less exciting than drugs and alcohol and you won't even get to meet anyone famous in rehab. You're in good company; MTV has completely succumbed to the trend. Ironic really that the 'M' stands for Music yet there's no time for a single note between the teen moms and following the Kardashian Klan devastate various cities.

The only positive thing I can see is that the 'stars' of banal reality TV are willing victims of having their privacy intruded upon. Perhaps the public will be so busy watching them that actual celebrities' personal lives may be given a brief hiatus from the media focus.

Take a deep breath Ryan Giggs...

Sienna Miller pick up your phone and call whoever the fuck you like.... we're too busy watching some big fat gypsy get married.