I don’t know anyone who watches a lower calibre of TV offerings than me. I will literally watch anything, and because I don’t like common misuse of the word ‘literally’ today, I will justify my use of the word ‘literally’ by telling you what I watched on the TV last night (bearing in mind it was a Wednesday and I have LITERALLY nothing better to do with my Wednesday nights):
Two and a Half Men
Pretty Little Liars
Bigger than Cheryl
The True Hollywood Story of Charlie Sheen.
Jesus Christ, it is even direr in print. Now to be fair, my life is simultaneously incredibly boring and laborious at present, and I deliberately opt for things with absolutely no intellectual value as a means of escapism and revitalisation- but even I am going to say that Bigger than Cheryl was offensive to humans with fully functioning brains.
The premise of this programme is that three normal women compete against each other for the chance to win a contract with a ‘top London lookalike agency’ to work as a Cheryl Cole lookalike. However, the reality is something entirely different. Last night’s competitors were substantially more paltry and disillusioned than past programmes, consisting of three women who would have been better off auditioning for Bigger than the Viz’s Fat Slags, as emulating the Fat Slags would have been a more realistic aspiration.
The programme’s usual format whittles down hundreds of contestants to six hopefuls, who dance for the judges and give a speech about why they should be picked to be the competition winner, from which three contestants are chosen. Unfortunately, in the case of Bigger than Cheryl, a grand total of seven women showed up to audition, creating a breeding ground of awkwardness as only one person was not going to make it to the semi-final, basically concluding, without doubt, who the most worthless person in the room would be. Fortunately, one of the seven had to drop out because of a ‘crumbly knee’ (whatever that is), meaning that everyone who auditioned got through the semi-final- hooray! Of that, the three biggest lunatics were chosen, and told to fuck off- leaving three contestants to battle it out in a competition that mainly consists of not using an exercise ball properly and adhering to a low GI diet while dreaming of kebabs.
Contestant Number One was Tattoo from Stoke (not actual name, but apt given her appearance) whose daily diet of beer, fags, diet coke and the Sun newspaper made her the best Cheryl lookalike prior to makeover, and to be fair, in the (inevitable Channel 5) movie of Cheryl’s life, she could have easily played Cheryl during her ‘racist thug’ years. Tattoo has always been a massive fan of Cheryl, ever since they were both the same dress size on Popstars: The Rivals (!), but now she’s just massive.
Contestant Number Two was Lay-Z-bitch from Leeds (again, not actual name, but it should have been) who dropped out of the competition entirely after been made to participate in an Aerobics class. Imagine.
Contestant Number Three, and Winner, was Beryl from a place with no mirrors, because she bore so little resemblance to Cheryl Cole that I honestly think she now fulfils her contractual obligations with the ‘top London lookalike agency’ only working at events for the blind, because Beryl did not have a feature on her face that resembled Cheryl. In fact, the only reason she won is that during the embarrassing bit at the end where the competitors had to shimmy-sham around the room to Cheryl’s ‘Fight for this Love’, Lay-Z-Bitch had dropped out long ago due to her on-going commitment to die of obesity related illnesses, and Tattoo kept laughing and smoker’s coughing, while doing a vague version of the Macarena. Beryl held it together with military precision, possibly inspired by Cheryl during one of Ashley’s many ‘I’ve cheated with a woman with questionable personal hygiene’ scandals.
Can’t wait for next weeks’ Bigger Than….