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Thursday, June 15, 2006, 6:37 AM
Game shows give me the shits.
Let's take Temptation for example. It's a longtime popular concept, middle and upper class types answer reasonably difficult general knowledge questions for cash and luxury prizes. The idea is that a reasonably intelligent audience will tune in to test their mental dexterity. Fair enough. But why then sign up Livinia "I killed Hey Hey" Nixon, whose every off-cuff remark is so cringe-worthingly idiotic that by the end of the show I'm doubled over in pain?
Bert's Family Feud. Poor old Moonface's dementia has gotten so bad that half the time he forgets what he's doing and the other half he doesn't realise how bad the writing is. I'd be in my right mind to go down to Richmond and smack the director and writers in the chops for stitching up a TV legend into appearing in such a huge pile of shit.
Deal Or No Deal. Andrew O'Keefe - You are not Guy Smiley. You are not your Uncle JOK. The world is not powered alone by electricity generated by your ego. So for fuck's sake, just relax and be a normal person for once, at the rate you're going your heart's going to give out by the time you're 43.
Wheel of Fortune. It's bad enough that 99% of the contestants are stupid enough to applaud themselves, but why put a former Miss Universe contestant in multicoloured rags and trot her down a catwalk endlessly? Especially now the letter tiles are now automatic plasma screens? Hey, Channel Seven, this is the twenty-first century. Sex may sell, but this is a show for housewives and retirees.
Well, at least no-one's done something stupid like bring back It's A Knockout. No wait, Channel Ten's doing that to fill the gaping hole between The Simpsons and Big Bogan's Extra Special Dirty Perv Show. I apologise.
As you can tell, game shows past and present have left a bit of scarring on the old man Statler, dear blogreaders, much like the old Man O Man pool which still scars the floor at Seven's South Melbourne studios. I think it began with Richard Wilkins' Keynotes. I just hope there's a cure.
A cure for Richard Wilkins, I mean.
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