Wednesday, December 03, 2008
GET YER RACK OUT
I don't watch all of the modern TV programmes that allegedly unite the entire nation around the box these days. No Strictly Ballroom, no Celebrity Strictness In The Dressing Room or I'm A Celebrity - Get Me Out Of This Kitchen And Out Of The Vicinity Of Gordon Ramsay, The Philandering Bounder!
The only time that I see the sort of shows that everyone else watches is at about eight o'clock on a weekday, when the other half is looking at West Ham forums on the *internet*, and I am watching telly with the sound turned off.
So ... last night I was watching How To Look Good Naked - with the sound turned off.
Can anyone tell me what the point of How To Look Good Naked is?
It is a programme that seems to have been influenced by the Dove adverts that featured *rill* *women*, as opposed to young, thin, good looking women. Rill women are supposed to like other rill women in adverts, even though they don't like other rill women in rill life, and will bitch about their physical imperfections behind their backs.
For some reason that I can't fathom, Gok Wan wants to encourage rill women to take off their clothes in front of a camera and celebrate their natural beauty, vom, vom. There's all sorts of wobbling and sagging flesh on display here and, sorry to offend any wet feminist workshop types reading, but it's not very pleasant to look at. Why are women up for this sort of ritual humiliation?
Any woman who has an ounce of self awareness realises that her physical attributes are on the slide after the age of thirty. Really, I'm being kind here - most men would suggest that the age of around twenty five is nearer the mark.
Actually, there comes a point in every woman's life when, after a night's carousing, she gets up in the morning feeling like death. She looks into the mirror and sees Edward G. Robinson staring back at her.
Frightening. Still, you start to laugh at all the effects of gravity, decay and those thick BLACK bristles that crop up on your chin overnight if you've got a sense of humour or more than half a brain cell to rub together. What else can you do?
Well, a lot of the women here seem to be hung up about the fact that they don't look as good as they did when they were twenty. No, really! You don't say!
Do women who obsess about their sagging mammaries or cellulite have nothing better to occupy their time? Virtually anything is a better way to occupy your time, actually. Why waste huge amounts of money on *firming* creams when you could be drinking a fucking big glass of wine or eating that Moser Roth chocolate with the cranberry bits in it, mmmmm?
I watched a few minutes of this show with the sound turned up because I wanted to get the gist of what was going on and maybe, ho ho, blog about it.
Gok Wan seems to want women to "celebrate" their assets, i.e., they are on the big side and therefore have big tits. This therefore means that they should wang them out there at every available opportunity, and shouldn't hide them behind baggy tops. Duh! Take it from, ahem, one who knows, the big *racked* woman's best asset is the underwired bra. Oh, and she should avoid polo neck jumpers or anything baggy (Every woman should avoid baggy tops. They are dull, dull, dull). That's all you need to know dear - now, try thinking about something more interesting or amusing.
Still, there's no end to The Rise Of Gok Wan. I was looking at some costume jewellery in Dorothy Perkins (nice outsized purple cocktail rings and, er, bright yellow button earrings. You can tell I don't "do" "understatement" or "good quality investment pieces", eh? Thank god you don't know me). Anyway, Gok's voice was being piped into the store and his picture was everywhere, and he kept uttering variations of "helloooo gorgeous!!!"
Fuck off you patronising Kent. I'm not gorgeous, I'm a haggard middle aged bag, and proud of the fact. If I ever see you, I will remove your chi chi designer glasses and grind them under my haggard middle aged foot.
Oh, and a disclaimer should be put on the credits at the end of your show saying "WEARING A WRAP OVER BLOUSE TO ENHANCE YOUR, UH, *BANGERS* DOES NOT NECESSARILY MEAN THAT YOU'LL BE ABLE TO PULL ONE OF YOUR SON'S WINSOME YOUNG MATES. IN YOUR DREAMS, DARLIN'"
Labels: ageing, Dorothy Perkins, Edward G. Robinson, Gok Wan, Gordon Ramsay - bounder, purple cocktail rings, stupidity
