20 June 2007
British Broadcasting Corporation
20 - 21 Newman Street
I recently wrote to Mark Thompson, General Manager of the BBC, asking if he honestly thought the BBC show broadcast in March, Celebrity Fame Academy, was worth the monthly £11.57 in TV License fees currently being robbed from unsuspecting TV viewers across the British Isles.
True to form, Mr Thompson did not reply to me personally, but instead an office gimp sent me a template waxing lyrical about how marvellous the BBC is and that shows such as The Apprentice can attest to that sentiment.
Since I refuse to watch BBC and have not paid a TV license for my television sets in years, I decided to run this claim past my neighbour, Ted Old. Granted, Ted is a whinging Australian with ultraconservative views, but he is a man of wisdom and I value his opinion when it comes to debates on the pros and cons of communist reality television.
He said that there was enough evidence of drinking and drug-taking at talkback Thames to close your operation down. He showed me some footage recorded on his Sky+ box and I can only agree with his cynicism. How else can you explain the contestants on this year's show?
Is that really the best that Britain has got to offer on the talent front? It appears your executive board booked a first-class trip to Amsterdam sometime last year, spent hours of time in the coffee shops over there, and then whipped out the application forms of all the applicants for this year's show before making their final decision over a blend of Moroccan Black and Swazi Gold. Or was each of the 10,000 original applicants given a number and then 12 drawn randomly from a hat?
Without doubt, given a few cameras and some sound kit, I could produce a show better than this with just the talent from the local housing estates. And the winner would be someone infinitely better than those pretenders Trey Shazam, Naomi Laid and, easily the two biggest morons to be spawned from the British gene pool, Paul Callaghan and Robert Laing. Scraping the barrel is a figure of speech that springs to mind.
What I need to know is when you are going to start producing proper television shows that don't require car salesmen and beauty therapy employees to fight it out for a job worth six-figures annually? For the next series could you perhaps consider staying at home and avoiding all hallucinogenics before making decisions on the final contestants? Maybe then there will be 12 strong candidates, all achievers and leaders in their own rights. Then, Madam, you will have a show on your hands.
All men are created equal; some men just more equal than others.
R S V Peters