You switch on the television, sex, you open the pages of a newspaper, sex, you tune into the Archers, sex. It seems that Benny Hill became so ingrained in our minds in the 1980s that his ghost has risen from the grave and he is being chased through every medium accompanied by a bevvy of scantily clad women. And now men are getting in on the act. Once there was the bimbo, now there is the himbo and years from now they will have populated the planet with good looking chavs. I know that last one is hard to imagine but trust me, they have devolved to a point where they can only go up or else dig holes in the ground and changed their names to Morlock. Which makes the rest of us the Eloi. For those of you unaware of H.G. Wells classic, The Time Machine, the Eloi where the good looking ones who fed from the Earth. They where apathetic, watched others drown as they sat on the perfect bums on a perfect riverbank and ate fruit. God, that sounds awfully familiar, does it remind anyone of celebrity culture? Where vacuous talentless Z list stars, whose only claim to fame is being racist or so talentless that they’ve come out the otherside in a post ironic thingy that they don’t understand but ain’t their Mum a bitch? And look at the new boobs they gave her. Ten grand they cost, so they can’t be a racist, can they? I pray for one of the new hybrid cars to run them over. At least it will cut down on polution. It angers me that they spill their pointless philosophy (which they could write on the side of a match) to every tabloid that can hold a crayon. I’m digressing, in fact it’s not a good idea to think of celebrity culture.
Really, when did putting people in a house for several weeks, with little food, little chance to wash their clothes become sexy? It wasn’t when you flat shared. We should just take ALL Big Brother contestants (they’re not stars) and just shit them into space. Brian and the twins could boldly go and piss off. Poor Davina, her soul has been sucked dry by endless line of mincemeat and suckers.
And that’s what sex is really about. At its essence, sex in the media is making a fool our of you. It preys on your base instincts, from every ad to every soap – come on, Hollyoaks, you didn’t think it was written? It’s just a group of images for frustrated teens – turn the sound off and you’ll see it’s just top shelf fodder not very well disguised.
But why shouldn’t we revel in sex? Let’s face it, it’s programmed into our DNA. I tell you all those stars who have been caught over the years, all those wives and husbands, and partners couldn’t help it. It’s bad enough that it’s our primal drive but when they start putting it on the back of buses and on mobile phones and in music videos, who stands a chance?
2 Comments Add yours
Sex … and toilets. Every time I switch on, it’s either as Andrew described above, or Davina’s on a toilet, someone’s cleaning a toilet or Phil and Kirsty are viewing a toilet. Producers must think there’s a gap in the nation’s potty training. It’s all about not being allowed to grow up, like ubiquitous mum boob boys (Robbie Williams) or messy toilet boys (Pete Doherty). Lady GaGa’s next video will have her writhing provocatively on a toilet, needle in hand, looking for a turd to inject. Oooh-la-la!
This is an amazing piece Andy. Its horrible to think that celebrity culture is formed out of talentless, fake breasted, fake tanned fakeness (yes I am aware fakeness is not a word defined by the dictionary.) I think that we need more reality bites and less reality shows.