Yep...here we are, 100 posts into the DeadShed blog.
But what to post? Well, I decided to dose out a little rant about a certain British game show. I originally had this conversation with one of my chums, Ben, as we were driving back from Cardiff and Sean's "Talk, Talk, Talk ... Chat" thingymajig.
Which game show? Why, Deal Or No Deal of course.
Seriously, what the fuck is that show about?! It's literally televised guessing!
A bunch of chunky northerners (nothing against northerners, just saying that most times I channel-hop into the midst of an episode it's someone from up t'north) or a bunch of chunky Londoners (admittedly I rather dislike London as a city) sat on their arses with one of those stupid fucking tapered mugs full of tea or coffee, you know the kind, those daft tapered mugs which are ever-so-fucking-popular at the moment because they've been on some American sitcom. Big at the top, small at the bottom. They just annoy me, they look stupid and have massive handles, no doubt so the contestants can get their chubby fists around them.
So aye, they're sat on this stupid little chair on some wood-paneled island while Noel and his beard gurn away with glee as they prat around with that bloody old-arse phone to 'the banker', while peppering the running time with enough long, drawn-out pauses to fill an entire series worth of Big Brother eviction nights.
Why is this show so addictive to some people? Why, after a filming session in 2006, were there a cluster of people huddled around the TV in a pub when my colleague and I went in for a soft drink? It was like they were watching open heart surgery on a toddler, they were on that much of a knife-edge, all gawping at the screen. But why?
Like I said - it's televised guessing.
These chunky sorts fart around and point at some cardboard boxes. Some other plonker undoes a bit of sticky tape and opens it. Then they either whoop with glee or groan with disappointment. This goes on for half an hour so the player can piss off home at last with some cash. Why is this entertainment? We're not even learning anything from it - at least with Who Wants To Be A Millionaire (while suffering the long pauses) you learn the answers to questions you didn't know how to answer prior. With DOND, you learn fuck all.
I remember watching a clip of it, and there was some chunky bloke on it - I couldn't tell if he was from "up north" or "from Lahdahn town", but wherever he was from, he thought he was King Shit strutting around - NOT sitting in his chair, but swanning about the wood clad floor. He was pointing at the boxes like it was some really tactical and smart decision, as if he was guiding troops into war in some sort of deviously clever pincer movement to out-wit 'ze Germanz' ... but he wasn't ... he was pointing at boxes in a guessing-type manner. Televised guessing. Calm down, mate ... you're just on a crap game show.
Anyway, rant over...personally I can't stand Deal Or No Deal...but then again, I think most game shows blow goats, so...go figure...or go guess and point at a sticky-tape-sealed cardboard box.
Happy 100th blog!