Karen Krizanovich: An American Bitch in London


The National Television Awards once again proved that the nation’s telly viewers have no taste whatsoever. ‘Popular culture is dead,’ said David Quantick, one of those attending the two hour-long borefest and one of the nominees for his work on Harry Hill’s TV Burp. And why is popular culture dead? ‘Dunno,’ said Quantick who seemed to have tied his own bowtie for the event.

The whole shebang was fully rehearsed – in fact, like the Oscars, those running the event even had seat fillers. The famouses were sober and the audience drunk – shorely shum mishtake. But the results were as satisfying as they were expected, with the lowest common denominator being served, you know, the shows your straight friends can’t admit they love. But it is a worry when you conclude 9-year-old girls are spending their fag money on premium rate phone calls to vote for these creatures. I mean, Dr Who as Best Drama? What about Life On Mars, for chrissakes? Stenders over Corrie? And even Jeremy Clarkson himself said that Top Gear hadn’t featured a factoid for five long bleeding years. And by the way yes, I do like Harry Hill- he’s a lovely chap and you have to sneakingly adore those big shoes, big collars and his secret love of horses. 

But back to those 9-year-old girls in prison – Ant and Dec won THREE awards? Throw away the key, m’lord. These guys can’t get any more popular if they lay naked on the street of King’s Cross (honey, there’s a market for every Tom, Dick or freakishly small telly presenter), and it’s at times like these you wish Washington Snipey would make a come-back.

The night was, on the whole, dull in the extremis with the only real guffaw in the whole over-produced circus being the young actors from Corrie Street reading the nominees for some category or other and getting them all out of order (gasp; giggle; sob).

But the real fun of the National Television Awards is this: we can stand up and say proudly that this is the crap we love. And if you don’t like it, you’re off the Christmas list, ’cause sometimes 9-year-old girls do know what’s good for us. Oh and one more thing – please try to find a presenter who isn’t dead from the ankles up…

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One comment to “Karen Krizanovich: An American Bitch in London”

  1. TOTALLY with you on the Ant and Dec thing… horrible, insipid and talentless creatures that they are.

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