String 'Im Up

Afternoon, you.

TV's been a bit rubbishy of late, with the odd nugget of niceness happening by. But, to say I've ended up becoming a casual viewer lately is an understatement.
During the day, it's nothing but pre-school TV for me. Now, back in the day (thinking retrospectively), that would have been great. However, it's been years since I was a student, and times have changed. Well, actually, I am a sort of student again... long story. If you want to know the ins and outs of my soap operatic existence since the mid-90s, I may very well post in another blog entry soon.

Anywho, yes... pre-school TV. I have a 3-year-old daughter who will insist on watching any number of kiddies' channels on a daily basis, which means I get the full gamut of rubbish across the airwaves, with the occasional sparkle of brilliance.
Falling firmly in the former is this new offering, dirtgirlworld. I had to double check I hadn't strayed onto a premium channel when I saw the title.
To prepare you for it, remember all those creepy shows from decades past with real mouths superimposed onto cut-out characters? The ones where the 'actor' over-emoted through his/her sole body part on display? Stuff like Clutch Cargo?

If Satan made cartoons, they'd be just like this.

Well, now we have its bastard offspring. And I mean that as you read it.

Sarah Cawood and Billie Joe Armstrong got on famously.

It's horrible. Really horrible. It's called dirtgirlworld, that's how unashamedly horribly horrible it is. You have to watch it in motion to get the full effect of how utterly devastating this nailbomb of sensory abuse is. I wept. I sobbed. A bit of wee came out. It's a children's show by committee, monumentally charmless tat that's designed and made by an Australian company called Mememe Productions.

This is they:

The Wicked Witch of the West and the Cowardly Lion have joined forces

Their page states: "Where immaculate children's content is conceived, born and eventually fostered out." For fuck's sake. You cynically design kids programmes (the 'content' of your pitch). You 'foster them out', ie. sell the broadcasting rights to witless foreign and domestic broadcasters. You're in it for the money, not the love, you flaming galaas. Looking at your soulless, merchandise-me-hard-and-fast output, that much is obvious.

Do they look like they've got your kids' best interests at heart? Methinks not.
All of the over-emoted pursing and gaping is there. You end up staring at it like a vulture around carrion, wondering what elements are used to make it. There's some live action (if you stare hard enough), loads of CGI, and real (albeit slightly treated) human eyes and mouths.

Overdubbed (probably for regional reasons, a pet hate of mine) childish voices patronise the wee bairns unfortunate enough to end up watching. Any parent struggling to keep their kids clean for five minutes will hate the message of the show, to go outside and 'get grubby'.

Speaking of filth you can't seem to get rid of no matter how hard you try, we move onto Gary Glitter, a man who took going out and getting grubby an immoral, selfish step too far. Those people who have hilariously chanted "I'm a paed-a, I'm a paed-a, I'm a paedophile in 'Nam I am" will no doubt love the premise (and, spoiler alert, outcome) of tonight's The Execution of Gary Glitter (9pm, Channel 4).

Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.

Hilton McRae plays the Pop Paedophile (copyright The Sun), apparently so convincing that the extras in one of the court scenes were unsettled to the point that the AD had to convince them it was just an actor. Cor.
If you had a perverse pleasure from watching The Assassination of President Bush, you'll probably love this.

If you want to read more, have a butcher's at this hilarious URL I've set up.

http://tinyurl.com/noncebash

Have a lovely evening, no matter how cold it gets. Lock all your doors. Never, ever go outside again.

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