You know what, fine. You want to have your little culture-decaying reality series, you go right ahead. Get middle Australia to boo and hiss and applaud like bunch of Pavlovian Hunger Games-watching bitches while you trot out inanimate goofball after inanimate goofball with the presumption that Australia’s Got Talent and Kyle Sandilands is the right pig to sniff it out. Go nuts, please. People out there in the world where McMansions are all four kilometres apart need to feel a sense of unity and community with their fellow man, and reality television would appear to be the last great connector. So fine, do your thing. But, for the love of god, when you set off the fireworks or release the balloons or roll out whatever tedious mechanism you’ve got to signify the end of a Really Important Television Show, let the goddamn thing actually end. Don’t add insult to injury by letting some pallid 15 year old choir boy launch his doomed post-show career by shitting all over Bill Withers. Please.
Jack Vidgen : Lean On Me
