I’m not sure the descriptor of ‘reality TV’ quite cuts it
any more... this isn’t reality, this is some sort of weird and twisted world
portioned up into bite sized chunks of shamefully delicious TV viewing.
These days I don’t get to watch much TV, but a Thursday
night work party hangover (held in Fabric no less ?!?!) and a nose bunged to
the max has me sofa bound, TV zapper firmly in hand. And what is this I’ve found... Another wedding programme doing
zilch to quash us laydeez' rep for being obsessive, over-emotional nut jobs, but offering
up some undeniably mesmerising entertainment.
Same
old set up: 12-brides-to-be shacked up in a house together, competing to win
their ultimate wedding. But wait! There’s more: not only does the victorious
bride(zilla) get the wedding of her dreams, the contestants also compete each week to nab
a nice new nose, chin, baps and/or buttocks in the different challenges set.
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Bride #6: ‘Alexandra and her dress are all that stand between me and
my boob job.’
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Bridalplasty is part
funny, part frightening. As I sit here in my slightly fragile state, I am unsure
of whether to laugh or vom (though this could, in part, be due to last night’s
activities). These women are adamant to walk down the aisle looking Hollywood perfect,
but what about the fiancé stood expectantly at the altar? Bear in mind, this
poor man hasn’t seen his lass in over 4 months, in which time she has undergone
a complete face and body overhaul. Surely
there’ll be a split second when he's lifted the veil and he suddenly
thinks: ‘Who the hell are you?!’.
And so an hour of my life has passed and I can’t help but
wonder what kind of woman would EVER want to go on a show like this. Or any ‘reality’
TV show for that matter; don’t even get me started on Embarrassing Bodies...
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