|Reality TV - this way|
In real life, Z-list celebrities don’t go and live together in a jungle and eat random parts of animals to get meals. In real life, random strangers don’t flock together and live in a house-shaped prison and get kicked out on a weekly basis and meet Davina McCall on the way out. These supposed reality TV shows are not a true representation of true reality, but a warped alternative reality that exists in some possible alternate dimension where Ant and Dec are worshipped Gods and there are golden statues of them on every street corner.
The other reality shows, the glamorous televised talent shows such as X Factor and Dancing on Ice, are also incredibly popular. Dancing on Ice is probably my least hated of this genre due to the possibility of one of the skaters’ ice skates flies off and decapitates everyone in the studio audience on live television.
I’m not so morbid that I would wish a terrible event like I have just described to happen, I’m just speculating. Another speculation involves X Factor, whereby the crowd whoop and cheer at a certain frequency which causes resonance in the ten million inane light bulbs poised delicately above the stage, causing all the glass to shatter simultaneously, showering Cowell and his accomplices in generous helping of shards of pointed glass.
A pet hate about the whole reality TV show variety is the instant fame that people receive just for existing in them. Shows like Big Brother can catapult any random simpleton from the depths of normal social obscurity into the dazzling spotlight of superstardom within minutes. Take Susan Boyle, the seemingly ubiquitous singer who appeared on Britain’s Got Talent. She's a very good singer admittedly, but nothing so outstanding that we should all get on our knees and pray to her. The only reason for her massive popularity is that some judgmental nincompoops decided to label her as an ugly cat-loving loner. She’s basically famous for not looking as photo-shopped as judges such as Amanda Holden and every other female singer to ever walk onto the damned stage.
If we really wanted reality TV, surely they could just show the traffic cameras, the ones are often seen on traffic bulletins on the news, continuously on a new true reality show. People would have hours of fun by recording the show, imaginatively named Traffic 24/7, and watching it back trying to see their car and receiving their five minutes of fame. Iplayer would never be the same again.