Reality TV ‘stars’ only make a club night worse
They’re visiting clubs left right and centre, but why do we give a fuck?
In the last few years we have unfortunately seen the rise of the reality TV star.
Whether it be the foul screeching’s of The Only Way Is Essex, the bland drone of Made in Chelsea, or the somewhat primal grunting of The Valleys, reality ‘celebs’ have all made enough noise to draw our eyes to the TV screen and drag our staggering alcohol-induced legs to nightclubs to get a photo opportunity with them.
In Cardiff we have the privilege of the loud mouthed cave dwellers of the show ‘The Valleys’ gracing us with their presence in many of the favourite drinking haunts of students and Cardiff goers alike.
I’m sure many will enjoy the air time they receive from standing in the background of one of these charming reality stars dust-ups which often resemble a Neanderthal turf war, but many others see it as only one step up from finding a digitally re-created mug shot of their face on Crimewatch.
I have walked into a club in Cardiff and seen a line of people, mostly girls, queuing up in anticipation as though Jesus himself has risen to perform a one night only show at Wembley, only to find that in fact they are waiting to get a photo opportunity with Jamie Laing or one of his cronies.
I have often seen a supposedly famous person and, upon failing to recognise them, asked the question ‘what do they do?’ only to be told ‘they’re on Made in Chelsea.’ As I said: ‘what do they do?’
In what way have they earned a booth in a club with an endless line of people waiting to take a photograph? Have they developed some sort of cure for a deadly disease? NO! Have they created some influential album? NO!
Now I don’t blame people for finding it exciting to meet someone worth of adulation (sports stars and musicians spring to mind), because who doesn’t find it exciting to meet someone who has done something extraordinary and exciting.
However, in this case, I simply can’t understand why someone would pay and queue to see someone who has done nothing.
Perhaps I am being overly cynical in finding these programmes as boring and confusing as reading the ingredients on the back of a bottle of sleeping pills . However, I cannot help but think these programmes are about as deserving of air time as Saddam Hussein is of a posthumous Nobel Peace prize.
Next time you decide that bathing in the mundane light of reality TV “stars” is the best way to spend a Friday night, ask yourself before you head down to Tiger Tiger with your Kodak “wait a minute…do I actually give two steaming shits?”