Reality Shows

It seems that it is impossible to turn on the TV without being assaulted by a reality show. Either some poor hopeful trying to attain their dream in full HD terror or some fool trying to extend their three minutes of fame over twenty weeks just by crapping on camera. Some of these shows have been successful, some not so. I know of people that love this type of TV but I know of many who would rather stab their eyes with blunt pencils rather than be subjected to them. So in order to stop the self mutilation of the sensitive and to preserve what little brain cells remain to the average TV viewer I propose limiting reality TV shows to only one time slot every night. Of cause in order to satisfy the voyeuristic tendencies of those that enjoy reality TV, the proposed show must include all the characteristics of reality TV. The Pitch A group of elephants made up of ages from teenager to geriatric. Also include a couple of Indian elephants for some ethnic diversity and some gay elephants for some colour. In order to get the sympathy viewer we will include a disadvantaged elephant. Maybe a reformed elephant sex worker. At least one elephant must have had cosmetic surgery and two of the elephants must be secretly related. The elephants are place on a deserted island. The contestants must lie and cheat to be the last one standing in order to win. The rules will change at random times during the day and each rule change will be designed to cause the greatest distress to the contestants. In the mean time they must dance with various partners and learn to sing Latvian folk songs while cooking crepes. They must also stand guard on a beach while providing veterinary services to the local fauna. They must convert a derelict apartment into a habitable and stylish abode suitable to grace the pages of Vogue and then hand the apartment and associated garden to a family of destitute refugee pandas. At various times in the day they must freeze and pose for a fashion shoot while avoid being caught with a dusting of white powder around their trunks. They will be required to lose weight but not be caught vomiting the last meal they had cooked while singing a power ballad in Latin. In the period between 3am and 4 am they must learn to ice skate while juggling flaming balls of dried elephant dung. They must fashion twigs and coconut husks into street art while they were hiding behind the bushes at the islands busiest intersection so as to plant a daisy on the median strip. The contestants will gossip and plot the demise of fellow contestants while hiding their actions and basically behaving in the worst and most underhanded manner possible. Finally they will be forced to parade in front of a team of judges who will punctuate their sentences with periods of silence of over a minute between words in a forlorn attempt to extend the suspense and elicit the last drop of emotion from the contestants. When the proclamation is made of who is to be released from this televised torture, the crushed contestant is whisked away like yesterdays pizza leftovers. And as occasionally occurs, to be regurgitated back into the contest like yesterdays pizza in another random rule change. There will be three judges. They will be drawn from the ranks of homeless has-beens who are on their last case of cheap scotch and are desperate for any opportunity to regain some of their former glory. There will be an earth mother who will be incapable of giving any meaning full advice except a pat on the head or a stern tsk tsk if one of the contestants is caught playing with themselves under the covers by the infrared cameras. There will be a low level industry participant that nobody has heard of but is “respected by the industry” who will tell it as it is but who’s real job is to make the earth mother look sympathetic by making the contestants cry. There will also need to be an eccentric “high profile “ industry star who will make sage technical comments that will be incoherent to the industry much less the hapless contestants. Last but not least there will be a skilled editing team that will need to troll through 24 hours of video from 932 cameras in order to extract 20 mins of vision that is not excruciatingly boring but only annoying. But most importantly making the producer’s nephew’s mate’s girlfriend look as good as possible no matter if she has the temper of a wasp with PMT, the intelligence of a brain damaged gibbon or the poise of a drunken sloth. After 20 excruciating weeks of public torture and humiliation the last 2 contestants will be deposited at the Sydney Opera House were dressed as gladiators they will be forced fight each other to the death with only egg whisks and a ball of twine. The contestant that is least beaten will then be proclaimed the winner and receive a mystery prize which will consist of $2.53 and a pair of underpants signed by the winners of last year’s Eurovision Song Contest. I think I am on a winner!!! Ed