In the olden days, when the River Thames was frozen over, the Baby Jesus was knee-high to a little donkey’s pop-sock and Boudica was spelled with to c’s, people didn’t scream at the telly like they were possessed morons when a dainty clap and/or laugh would have done.
Take X Factory. A bunch of heavy-set girls called Pick ‘n’ Mix sets them off like a gang-bang. Biscuit Boy – also heavy-set – opens his mouth to sing (it ain’t pretty) and you’d think the Beatles had reformed, with John. JLS swish onto the stage like a bunch of ladies in plunging blousons – and with one member who can only be described as primordial – and the screams are enough to strip the hair off your bollocks. Which at least saves on Veet.
We blame the Americans. All Tranny Banks has to do is mention the word ‘Vaseline’ and the audience erupts like Vesuvius, only without the immediate numbing effect of red-hot ash and pumice. Someone makes a lame joke on Saturday Night Live (let’s face it, they’re all lame), and you’d be forgiven for thinking it was VE Day. And take Steve Jones up here. He takes his top of on the Lesbehavingyou Ellen Show, and the audience shrieks are so piercing it’s like Steve Irwin’s deep-sea death all over again.
Jeeze Louise, people, it’s only a little light chest!
Will people please stop shouting on the telly.,