Amongst real things...

Many things have always perplexed me, confused me, irritated me and flat out angered me. However, they haven’t as individual things had such an impact that they would warrant a post about them, and only them, as the lead role.

Sure these things can be interesting. I know you have spent countless unnecessary hours wondering how in 22 episodes of season 2 Michael Schofield never has to cut his hair yet it is always shaven on number 1. I know it angers you no end that we can make rain detecting wiper blades, photograph the other side of the moon, and fit 500 songs into a match box but we can’t make vending machines that give change in notes.

Now we could never dedicate an entire post to one of these examples alone, as we would run the risk of ending up with the blog equivalent of a Dolph Lundgren movie credit role. However, one of the strange little quirks that has us thinking has pushed itself to the surface and has sufficient depth and substance that it definitely warrants a quick posting.

We have been patiently waiting for Idols 4 to get to the business stages so we can back ourselves a hot little filly and chase her all the way to the finish line. Unfortunately the business end of the competition is where your ability to stomach Gareth Cliff and Colin Moss (Misscloff?) in one production wanes and you lose interest. (apart from in the stage attire selected by our chosen filly)

The real interesting part of Idols 4 is the audition stages. Fuck me they are hilarious. You get a microcosm of what represents everything inbred and weird from our beloved country in 60minutes of viewing. Some of the stuff is priceless.

You have a Welder from Springs, although admittedly 95% of Spring does pursue an occupation in that trade, brother and sister combos that you factually can’t tell apart and guys that roll in and introduce their mates as their crew! Crew? Not since 50cents went to Idols I in New York as a lisping 16 years old high school drop out did someone’s reference to crew ignite such raucous laughter. The thing is 50 got shot 8 times and did enough prison time and performance enhancing drugs that the Tour de France would accept defeat to, whereas Frodo and his crew, will forever remain…Frodo and Crew.

Depth and substance you now perceivable ask? Enter Cliff Jennings! Never since Riaan van Cruswagen said "welkom by die nuus", has someone taken SA television with such force. The man was brilliant. However, it was also such a crock of shit.

The gleaming intrigue behind reality TV would have to be the reality. The only thing real about Cliff was his scarf. It was blatantly obvious that his multi-auditions and hilarious ‘songwriter’ disposition was staged and bank rolled by MNET. They did a few castings. Found a straight faced actor; made him sign an agreement, and wham we have the script reading doos we can all poke fun at.

But here is the thing. I know Cliff J was a scripted character but it was still fuckin' brilliant. I am prepared to wave the line between reality and fiction and enjoy the result. Maybe I can justify that the judges didn’t know he was fake, but nevertheless the fat fucker got me spending my evenings stomaching Misscloff.