Do you really want to know the reason why I decided to waste an hour or so of my time watching E4’s puke-fest Made In Chelsea? Not for the glamour (ho-ho, nono, definitely not), not for the fact that they live next door…
..Wait…nope, that’s exactly why I watched Made In Chelsea. Just sitting on the sofa eating a bucket of KFC chicken like your typical hom-hum-unemployed-slob-in-a vest-and-boxers, with my computer web-locked onto Twitter, pointing at the TV like Andy Pimpkin and repeatedly regurgitating the fact that ‘duuuh, I know that place!’ or ‘I EAT THERE’ or ‘I SAW RORY BREMNER THERE’ (true story).
The candle of shit chat – Ollie
Because that’s television for you. Sometimes you want to delve into the things you see – probing, analysing, dissecting, reading between the lines; wondering why Spencer just didn’t tell his girlfriend Funda (oh the puns that’ll emerge from the blogosphere) that he was seeing Caggie’s first gig at The Troubadour in Earl’s Court; or what an earth was Ollie trying to convey when he pridefully says that “sometimes I love the smell of cow shit.” Is it a clever metaphor to suggest that Ollie enjoys to produce greenhouse gases in bed while Gabriella is in the room or that the smell of burning flesh when he makes sweet, fabulous love to a sun bed is soooo orgasimic?
This is like Kate Middleton singing Smelly Cat – Caitlin Moran (Twitter)
Did Francis cover up for Spencer when he accidentally let slip that Spencer got a “Brazilian…[COUGH]…girlfriend”? What kind of twisted Groupon offer did he acquire to get this strange pioneering treatment? Do vajazzle treatments for men even exist?
…you know, I can’t keep this up. The more I think about it, the more it feels like I’ve been hit on the head with an oversized Gucci handbag with diamonds worth more than my apartment. The amount of dull air makes me wish it was Made In Eton, hosted and introduced by our very own bumbling Boris Johnson rugby-tackling the cameraman as he comes onto the first scene.
‘Til next time,