Fifth Column – Raw Deal – Issue 5

Just who thought of such a dismally stolid concept for so-called entertainment like the one that has infected the hour between six and seven in the evening?

It was, is, and always will be mesmerising in its dullness, and if it were not for the odd flashing light and electronic scoreboard, one could get the impression that we were watching a pre-human event.

A nadir is reached when entertainment consists of watching fellow specie members perch over a box, waiting to be chosen to reveal how the central ape has, by crass cliche and uninteresting banter, ‘made their own luck’. The process of elimination of certain monetary values so a high one can be ‘inherited’ is morosely enacted in the misguided belief that whatever the participants say might influence the already established number inside the box. A small backward step for mankind and giant quantum leap for tolerance. If they found a dead concept in the box, it might be more noteworthy.

Quite apart from the distasteful anomaly of the luck in being chosen to be in the studio at the right time, being a reason for people being offered money in a meritocracy, the event lacking any cerebral stimulation should be enough to recommend its discontinuation in an age we as a specie claim ‘ultimate evolutionary development’.

The tragic sight of human apes clapping themselves at the least provocation should be an anathema to any notion of modernity. Did we really fall out of the trees and take so long to stand upright, to achieve this extravaganza of banality? The 99%ers would probably provide more entertainment by loping over to the chosen box and rapping it whilst whooping in an agitated state of frustration at being on TV. Wait, the programme follows this kind of display, excepting only the entertaining element of loping.

The barely identifiable linguistic strings that enable the encouraging box guardians to reveal the value of the numbers on inside lid of the box, just qualifies this as human life. This lifeless twitching of the specie stretches for an hour, regardless of the outcome of ‘guesswork’; if money is taken early, a ‘what if’ fiasco takes place.

One of the most ingratiating spectacles in this dismal performance is the ‘communal’ hand rubbing gesture and the ‘dark age’ incantation of ‘blue, blue,blue’. This is in order to render the already established number inside the box a small amount – cheating luck. Truly jaw dropping mumbo-jumbo that once would have seen people burned or drowned by their local authorities.

The same dismal performance continues going through the numbers to discover an outcome in an alternative universe, a space this show makes more and more attractive. This is more like an out of brain experience than out of body; the makers are out of ideas, that’s for sure.

What specie narcolepsy could explain such a woeful spectacle? Mild Thanatos
hysteria perhaps, or just an economically induced cynicism. We might as well have TV cameras in banks and we’ll watch people trying to extract varying amounts of money out of their own or even others’ bank accounts.

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