Desperate Jeremy?

This week public outcry raised its vindictive, somewhat hydra-esc head. In a week where an estimated two million people decided to voice their anger toward the current Con-Lib government it seems to have taken a back seat to what I will refer to as Clarkson-gate. Perhaps Clarkson-gate mark thirty two may be more appropriate due to amount of trouble the man has been on the end of the “politically correct” brigade for as long as he has been spouting controversy on the screen. Whether or not that has been properly deserved is another question, this discussion is about the recent tirade against the “tall shouty one from top gear”.

On the BBC One Show the Doncaster born car fanatic seems to have finally pushed others too hard. His comments about the Union strikers being “executed in front of their family” caused over 21,000 people to complain and Unison (the country’s biggest public service union) calling for his sacking.

It’s worth mentioning that there were only 5,000 complaints on the day of broadcast yet once the press got hold with its Bullterrier like grip this almost quadrupled.  Also worth mentioning that he actually said on air, that the comments made were not his views and let’s be honest anyone who couldn’t see that it was a pop at the bureaucracy of the BBC is devoid of common sense or a sense of humour.  

I am a fan of Jeremy Clarkson. On the odd occasion he does get very close to the knuckle in terms of his on screen comments. This is what I like about him. Controversy is fun.

Without controversy, television is a reality fuelled, non offensive, sofa sitting, Adrian Chiles’ filled glorified bore box that challenges nothing. I was forced to sit through the masqueraded vapid drivel called “Desperate Scousewives”. Unfortunately the masquerade was a backdrop of a city desperately  close to my heart. I deny outdated, insipid stereotypes of citric coloured women and chauvinistic men. I deny the fact that the people of Liverpool all strive to be as useless as those who were paraded on the screen as the “real Liverpudlians”. I wish them all the best in their future carers in which one of them will be forced to eat a Kangaroo penis while two rather smug Geordies laugh their cheques all the way to the bank. And to the rest of them when they get paid £200 pounds to arrive and smile at slaughtered students on “Monday night madness”...

I don’t want or need this sort of reality TV. Television doesn’t need it; there is enough of it surely? What television needs are actual personalities....

I’m harbouring thoughts of creating a Union and going on strike until I get it....

But you never know Jeremy might arrive with a crossbow...