Here’s a genuine guilty pleasure: I like to sit down on the sofa at night at around 11PM or 12AM and watch late-night hardcore Thomas the Tank Engine on-demand. Because seriously, when Gordon picks up those coaches you know something hot is going to happen. Possibly because his boiler engine is problematic.
Children’s television programmes have always been loud, colourful and annoying, with their toilet jokes constantly being farted out like constipated OAPs sitting on the throne for 3 hours. They are produced to educate children on how the world (vaguely) works, what sort of morals to hold on to, how to make friends, discover what makes a square a square and other things to help a child develop into a decent human being.
Or so I thought. Scanning over the kids’ channels like some sort of hungry paedophile, popular children’s programmes have evolved to become super-squeaky-clean-vomit-inducers. Let me explain. Thanks to Disney introducing High School Musical and Hannah Montana onto our screens, we now have a never-ending barrage of all-singing, all-dancing ‘sitcoms’ that have become tedious instead of educational.
Take for instance Disney’s colossal Hannah Montana or Nickelodeon’s shadow-chasing iCarly. Both shows revolve around female protagonists living in middle-class homes enforcing the American Dream (because that’s what you need in a recession: a big reminder of what you can’t afford) and are leading kiddie figures in their respected specialist fields – in the case for Montana, music and iCarly internet broadcasting.
Sure we get the usual ‘friends and learning are good! But cheating and violence are bad’ routine but there are a few things that have caught my attention. Like most kids shows, these teenagers are literally spotless, excruciatingly optimistic and generally so devoid of typical teenage angst that you’d mistake them to be a 3 year old child who’s constantly amused by his or her father’s inability to cover up his affair with a tranny from Soho (that’s another story). And when their Barbie eyes meet with perfect Ken’s eyes, the attraction is painful to watch because it is more or less a dribbling blubber of dialogue before climaxing into their ‘awww’ moment. In the real world, they would be busy exchanging body fluids in the most disgusting way possible.
As a result, we have a bunch of airheaded tweeny twats believing everything will work out in the end as well as believing that if you purchase a product that are associated with the shows, you’ll become them. But wait, they remembered that they can’t afford it because we’re in a recession, forcing the tweeny twats into a life of crime, stealing everything in sight just to try and become their beloved twat idol. Oh sure, they’re only 10 but they do need to grasp the concept of global warming, political anarchy and how to make Simon Cowell cry.
My God, you might as well slap the tweens on the face with a 60-inch television just to try and scare them from watching. Sure it’ll cost parents £500+, but think of the money saved just by not buying digital television and the toys associated with the programmes?
Plus, I think I may have devised a new scaremongering tactic that is perfect for kids.
Wait, wait – if the tween in question is a Cyrus fan, make sure she (….or he) steals a pole dancing kit.
And now, as ever, I finish by saying they all lived happily ever after….until cancer got to one of them and killed their relationship, leaving the other widowed and full of misery and despair which led to his or her timely suicide after watching Countdown.
‘Til next time,