I MADE the astronomical mistake of visiting my sister this weekend and was forced to watch at least 30 minutes of Britain’s Got Talent.
What a load of old twaddle.
At one point the ‘judges’ voted through a bunch of fat lads in glittery jump suits who shouted along to ‘It’s Raining Men’.
It got me thinking if idiots like this can succeed on such a show then surely Gainsborough must have plenty of people who have a shot at the Royal Variety Performance.
Just last week the Standard featured a nice lady called Margaret who produced musically inspired flower displays.
She should get herself down there quick smart I reckon.
Over Easter dozens of youngsters show cased their talents of making Easter hats by sticking card on to existing straw hats.
By Britain’s Got Talent standards some of these bright sparks could soon be whittling new crowns for Her Majesty in front of an audience of hundreds.
If only chain smoking was officially a talent. I’ve spotted umpteen yokels from my window who would be certain of a place in the live final.
One thing that seems to be recognised as a talent now is synchronised group flailing.
Why this is considered a talent I don’t know.
A medley of poorly mixed pop songs blares out of the TV while one singer mimes the occasional word. There’s normally one lad pretending to have some sort of fit on the side of the stage, then the grand finale seems to involve a very small child, usually the smallest, doing a back flip.
If this is what Britain’s got to offer no wonder we’re in such trouble.
We’re publicly scraping the bottom of the barrel with this type of entertainment.
So come on readers, you might be in with a chance of getting on the telly. Good luck.