Britain’s Got Talent and the Relative Future of British Telly

So I thought I’d start off with a clever title, even though it has very little to do with the actual article I am about to portray, hell it probably doesn't even make any sense on its own. I just wanted to counter pretty much everything what has already been said about Britain’s Got Talent. I bloody loved it. I absolutely, positively, toe-tappingly loved it. And as good as Jekyll may or not be, Britain’s Got Talent is without a doubt the better of the two for Saturday night telly.

Saturday night telly is all about the silly, the wacky, and yes, occasionally, about a 9 year old flying about and uncontrollably smiling so much she’d probably been attacked with a botox needle the night before by her parents who saw their chance to be rich and famous. Think back to the greats: Brucie, Gladiators, even Doctor Who. At least they used to use their serious sparingly. Even then it’s either a salt shaker killing a tin robot or a muscle-bound lady getting smacked with a foam baton and breaking her neck on the floor below whilst a whole nation cheers and, deep down, hopes she can never walk again. Or maybe that’s just me...

Ant (left), Paul Potts (centre), Dec (right), Not Pictured - Bad teeth

Saturday nights in shouldn’t be about being immersed in a plot-rich drama. Whack that on a weekday and I’ll give it a watch. Saturday night is about laughing at someone make £250 for falling into a bin or aww-ing when a 6 year old goes on national TV and sings a lovely song, even though she is a bit shit, and being wowed by a man who apparently sold mobile phones for a living when he hits that note perfectly for the 8^th time this week. It’s what X Factor, Britain’s Got Talent and Pop Idol did perfectly. I’m just confused at why they spread it across a mere week when there was a Summer’s worth of Saturday night ratings wrapped up perfectly for them there.

Thanks to all of you, for the 4 minutes he sings, the Queen won’t be able to nod off and we’ll all have a cranky Queen.

So to end the rant abruptly, what did I think of Britain’s Got Talent? Well you already know I loved it, even though it had the depth of an empty child’s swimming pool. I honestly wanted the man and his monkey to win, purely because it’d probably send the Queen over the top and snap her out of the boredom coma she elapses into every night of the Royal Variety Performance. As good as watching a monkey dance to Earth Song again would be, seeing the Queen snap and grabbing a microphone to call her public “fucking morons” for putting this act on stage of the most prestigious of events whilst throwing chairs at the audience below in a fit of rage whilst denouncing the Monarchy and biting Camilla’s face off would… well it’d certainly stay on the Sky+ for a while. But no, we all decided to be sensible and put the good act on stage. Thanks to all of you, for the 4 minutes he sings, the Queen won’t be able to nod off because he’ll be so bloody loud and we’ll all have a cranky Queen. After the show, she’ll probably push a small child down some stairs at the end of the show. So I hope you now all realise that you’ll soon have a young girl’s cracked skull on your conscience.

Just once, please end the Royal Variety Performance like this.

So in summary: Jekyll, ace at any other time. But, if you air it against Tiswas Reunited, I think I'll pass.