Yes, it's scripted. Yes most of it is boring (especially the hip-hop, beatbox, and street dance assholes). But what else do you do in the evening as you recover from sunburn, heatstroke and the nausea of eating fast food from greasy roadside stands?
Britain's Got Talent is just about over, but just starting is the Australia version...where...oh, no, look at THIS....
It's camera-hog Geri Halliwell. Old Spice herself. You'd think she'd know how to wear a dress. No, you don't just find something two sizes too tight and squash your saggy tits against it. But if you do, it really doesn't matter what kind of lemony face you make, as nobody will notice it. Geri's not Australian, and neither is another new judge, Dawn French. Yawn is that British actress so old most people don't remember when, if ever, she was funny.
What IS funny, is when a national talent show is mostly judged by people who aren't even from the nation telecasting it.
You might remember those seasons when Brits Piers Morgan and Sharon Ozzy-wife outnumbered David Hasselhoof on "America's Got British Judges."
The USA's got their own rancid British spice-geriatric this year; "Mel B." Rhymes with Hep C. There's nobody around who can "judge" no-talents like a no talent. That must explain why Cowell and the other producers have stopped choosing anyone from the publishing world or anyone literate and witty. Instead, the judges have expanded from 3 to 4 (or more) padding out already stale programming with extra gush and blabber.
Ireland's Brian McFadden, one of the unlikely judges on Australia's Got Talent show for several years, has moved on. He'll concentrate on his singing career, and his new album, "Don't Expect the Same Shitty Music I Sang in my Boy Band Westlife when I was a 20-something. Now I'm over Turdy!"
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