I’m not one for talent shows, which are pretty much a contradiction in terms. Take, for example, The X Factor. This is stuffed to the gunnels with what in the trade are known as mingers, blingers, and clingers. The words should be self explanatory, but for the hard of thinking, here’s the User’s Guide. Mingers are the (usually completely talentless) pluguglies who are only included so the audience can laugh at them. Toothless OAPs fall into this group. Blingers are the ‘characters’ who ham it up and despite being crap seem to do rather well. Clingers are those saddoes who say things such as, ‘I want this soooo much,’ just before dissolving into floods of tears when they get chucked out of boot camp.
Now to the point of the story. Although I haven’t followed it, I have been aware that a series of Britain’s Got Talent has had a run and has now finished. It would be hard to remain unaware of this, with frantic coverage in the tabloids about this or that no-hoper and wild speculation as to the eventual winner.
I’m led to understand that this season’s hot favourite was a choir from Wales. They were seen as a shoo-in, and this was reflected in the odds that bookies were offering. Sad to relate a lot of punters lost their shirts, and the bookies commissioned a new swimming pool at the holiday home in Mustique.
They were beaten into third place by a dodgy magician who was twice spotted fiddling. To state the bleeding obvious, that’s what magicians do, but the good ones don’t get caught, which gives us some insight into just how talented he is or isn’t. He came in second. First place went to Matisse, who literally romped home to victory. Matisse is a dog, a border collie to be exact. He’s a dancing border collie, and yet still won Britain’s Got Talent.
This is not the first time a dog has won. There was one a while back called, if memory serves me, Pudsey. I had to look this up but said fluffy moppet is a border collie/bichon frise/Chinese crested powderpuff cross. I also believe that he had a biography written for him. Can’t have been a very long book. ‘Got born. Got weaned. Had injections. Learned to weave through poles and climb over seesaws. The End.’
As a nation we are now in a position of plainly not having any talent at all if performing dogs and cheating conjurors are the best we can do. I believe one of the acts in the final was Russian (thank you The Sun), and a couple of years ago a bunch of Hungarians won it. No wonder we lost the bloody Empire. We got laughed into surrender.
HOLD THE PRESSES! In a bizarre turn of events, it now has come to light that for the finale of the act, a tightrope walk, Matisse was replaced by a stunt double, since poor ol’ Mat doesn’t like heights. Britain’s Got Talent for deception all right.