Two One Thumbs Up!

Here I am! Hello! Hello!

Yes, after literally years of badgering - and even longer trying to customise this shitbrick of a page - I have returned to the blogging fold.

But, ladies and gentlemen, hold your applause. I have only just begun!

And in the spirit of inauguration, what better way to start my gradual dissection of our occasionally wonderful world and its foibles than with a frank and honest discussion regarding the woman who has won the hearts of a few great nations and well and truly given Obama the hump? Yes, lads and lasses, it's her:

SUSAN BOYLE.

Now, you may well think that choosing this feisty and zeitgeisty lady as a topic for a first post is not only bandwagon-jumping of the first water, but also a cynical ploy to entice a large number of dimwitted Southern Statesers to my fledgeling blog. You would be right. But I also think this phenomenon is at once a positive and damning indictment of our times and tastes.

Fuck, I've went all sociological. DEAL WITH IT.

Before I go any further, I feel I should include a video of the performance which started all the fuss. I'm aware you'll all have seen it several times already, but I wanted to test out the video-embedding doowhackey. So suck it.

Here:

Now, here's where I get all cynical on yo'asses. Granted, it was a fine performance from an (ultimately) charming performer. It was musical, her tone is pleasant, and she's clearly enjoying her moment of being able to sing about being fucked over by some Frenchman to a public so dense they've never heard the song before, and thus have no conception of the context of the piece.

HOWEVER! Look closer at events leading up to the sing-song. We are, by now, incredibly accustomed to the reality TV behemoth and the manipulative editing that fuels it. As a result, the (un)subtleties of such editing simultaneously irk us and program our thoughts.

For instance, listen to the BGM at the start of the segment. Do it again. Once more. Got it? Right. What the fuck is this, ChuckleVision? This is played over a clip of Ms (Miss? Certainly not Mrs! LOL!) Boyle eating a humble sandwich. Plus, said sandwich appears homemade, not purchased from a nearby Pret Á Manger. So the first impression we're given of her is that she's a chunky buffoon who, therefore, can't sing.

She then tells us her age, which is much younger than her appearance and apparel would suggest. She informs us that she's unemployed, which solidifies the implication that she is inherently stupid and setting herself up for a fall. Next, she provides a scurrilous programme-maker's big jizzy dream when she says:

"...I live on my own with my cat, called Pebbles. But I've never been married. Never been kissed! (grimaces comically) Shame! (laughs pathetically)"

By now the British Public are actively willing her to fail, so they can be delivered the wonderful feeling of schadenfreude that will distract them momentarily from the drudgery of being unemployable, pregnant at seven, anorexic and thick as shit.

The worst moment comes when she gives her age - again - and, when faced with one of Simon Cowell's patented eye-rolls, she starts grinding like a slutty washing machine and declares, in an abortive attempt at coquettishness: "and that's just one side of me!" Eh? What? What does that mean? Her front side's forty-seven, but she's got a two-year old arse? Or that she's forty-seven on the outside, but she has the sexual ability of a girl of sixteen? Given her girth and virginal status I highly doubt it.

Much to the disgust of some snarky emos in the audience, and following some HILARIOUS wolf-whistling, she starts to sing. And she's good. Hurrah! You're through. Case closed. Or so you'd think. Interestingly enough, Susan's voice just so happened to be a new incarnation of The Baby Jesus. Y'see, TBJ is afraid that if he shows his face to the human folk, they'll crucify him a bit more. So, having watched The Little Mermaid, he struck upon the idea to present himself as a tweedy besom's voice. Thus, Amanda Holden wept, Piers Morgan ejaculated and the aforementioned emos took to self-harm.

Of course, I jest. The Baby Jesus is sleeping! Watch this space though. He's gonna come back and get his revenge on them Jews. Oh Hell yes.

Her performance was good, but not in any way exceptional, to my mind. Yet one particular YouTube video of the performance has amassed (at time of writing) 39,042,725 views! More than Obama's big hello, Jade's big send-off and - criminally - more than this:


It's a sad, sad day when a pushy bitch getting punched so hard she sounds like Wimbledon is less popular than a pleasant, lonely spinster fulfilling a lifelong dream. Sad indeed.

Still, my major issue isn't with her success, which I wish her in big singy spades. Nor is it with the public's shocked reaction to her talent because, as one of my nearest and dearest quipped recently, "ugly people can sing too". No, my worry stems from the fact that this woman's life is in the process of being commodified. Already there is debate as to whether she should be given a makeover. Hugh Jackman has expressed an interest in duetting with her. A so-called friend has sold his (albeit harmless) story to the tabloids. Film offers. Oprah. Sex tapes. The list could continue. But it won't.

None of the above news items are at all concerned with Susan herself, but the idea of her. We know nothing about her other than that she is awkward and has a nice voice. So why the unprecedented amount of interest? Surely we're sickened with reality shows telling us what to think? Hmm? No? Nah, me neither.

The bottom line is that it's currently terribly terribly nice to talk about her favourably (or at all) despite the fact we have no idea who she is. Well, dear readers, never fear! I won't stoop to such lows in this here web-based tome of truth!

Oh shit. Just did. Hey ho!

So, does her success signal the death of Reality TV? We can only hope. But while there is still a fraction of the population who conduct themselves like this:



...bring on the dumbfucks!

EDIT: the making-over has already commenced! Results are below:

I already hate her. Smug bitch.