The Sound Of Fucking Music

The second in the series of hammers
 breaking entertainment devices

Today, after what has been a Supernonsense Blog sabbatical, I have returned to have a good old moan about music. A few weeks ago I was directed to a music video that had seven million views on YouTube called Bom Bom by a group who called themselves Sam and the Womp.( Right, I think everyone knows where this is going...) I watched the video and was confronted by something that however hard I try, I will never ever ‘un’ see. Let’s just say the video was like somebody had let loose a group of mental patients into a studio with blue paint, balloons, and the lost and found box from a Dutch gay club. This, let’s call it ‘the night soil of a wounded platypus’, got to number 1 in the charts and the only positive thing to come out of it was that it got me to write this. I mean music just gets more and more bizarre as we apparently progress as a race and, to be honest, I don’t know when it will stop getting weird. I can just imagine in twenty years time, we will see Korean men in tuxedos dancing and singing with children about the particular districts that that countries of the world will have been split up into. Oh wait, that’s already here, now! Fucking Gangam Style in all its perverted, shitty glory!

 Despite this, I have slowly come to accept the UK singles charts for what they are. I am fine with those who both listen to ‘chart’ music and find their own interests in music (even I can admit to liking music that is popular) but I have met endless numbers of people who think that any album made before the year 2000 was played to Henry VIII while he had a game of croquet with Hitler along Hadrian’s Wall. It’s those people, who solely rely on what they are told to listen to, that will never truly enjoy discovering music. I’m going to let them continue listening to Bom Bom and whatever the next pitiful excuse for music is and let the real people get on with the real stuff. It’s called natural selection and it will eventually have its effect, if we wait long enough... Meanwhile, oh well.

The One Show

The One Show studio in its prime... when nobody is there.

I hate The One Show; it really gets on my pissing nerves. The worst thing about it is it patronises the audience and to such an extent that watching it is similar to an old, smelly woman squeezing your cheek and shouting ‘who’s a big boy, who’s a big boy’ whilst force feeding you Murray mints through a funnel. The presenters are the worst for this, their sickly sweet demeanour and seeming interest in the most mundane of subjects that range from tidal patterns to 16^th century masonry just does not draw me in whatsoever. Basically, to me the One Show is a local historical society that just got out of hand, even when they bring guests on they pass over the interview about how things are going with them to ask their opinion on why graveyards are an ideal place to baste a turkey. Perhaps I am not the target audience for a show such as this but the only people who I think could possibly enjoy The One Show are the geriatric and those who think there isn’t enough information out there about the modern process of making copper piping.

Maybe I am being a little harsh on The One Show but then again the pun in the title alone makes me groan every time I skim through the channels and end up violently and repeatedly banging my head against a wall when I come across Dave and the same bloody episode of Top Gear they have been looping for the past five years. By this point I usually realise I have the internet so I log on and make my way to BBC iplayer to see what delights it has in store, but when it finally loads I am to find highlights of the Shropshire Cheese Festival, Eastenders and the last twenty episodes of the fucking One Show. Oh well.   

My View On TV

Let me start by saying I rarely watch TV when I am supposed to; meaning I hardly watch the television. I am one of those people, not saying there’s a group of people it just makes me sound less weird, that watch TV on the numerous ‘players’ or ‘on demand’ services that can be found on the internet. I try to watch TV when I am supposed to but because I have stopped this I find trying to return to being normal, in this sense, to be like trying to jump onto a moving platform that’s revolving faster than I lost interest in James Cameron’s Avatar. One reason is that, in general, I only watch freeview because getting hold of the Sky remote is an act similar to the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark in which Indiana Jones attempts to switch a gold naked midget with a sand bag; basically it ends in me being chased by a boulder, or my dad as we like to call him.

Even though I don’t watch TV in a regular sense I still notice that there is a lot of shit on nowadays and I mean a lot. From the endless episodes of Gok Wan makes women cry by staring at their tits to the overused cook-off format that turns baking muffins into scenes resembling the Somme; it’s all bullshit. I imagine there are some excellent ideas floating around but TV channels would rather put out shows about fighting gypsies than anything that can be counted as real entertainment. I really miss Doctor Who, I know they are having a sabbatical but without it the country has let shows like The Only Way Is Essex, which might as well have been filmed in sepia because of the mainly orange cast, take over as a decent nights entertainment. I have had enough of this sort of TV and that is why I create my own TV channel by watching shows I enjoy such as Lee Mack’s entertaining and highly amusing series’ ‘Not Going Out’, and the superbly written and casted comedy ‘The IT Crowd’ amongst others, either on DVD or online, to keep me from doing as any British person would do, writing a strongly worded letter. Woops it looks like it didn’t stop me. Oh well.