Reality television. I don’t think I’ve said my full piece on what seems to be the dominant cultural shift in Western television in the 21st century. It seems that every person, hobby or career has a reality show based on it these days. We’ve got gardening shows, we’ve got cooking shows, we’ve got a fucking show about the Eastwoods and why? Because the general populous finds reality… interesting… particularly when it is so glossy, materialistic and well-produced with a couple of script writers ensuring that the moment is just perfect. Seems pretty ridiculous to me but then again, my reality is an existential cess-pool of dirty thoughts and Catholic guilt. However, although I am not interested by Lara Bingle’s little show bar when she occasionally gets caught with her rack out, I am interested in my own life. Naturally that means the rest of the world would also be compelled by my dalliance with a couple of flippers and an alleyway full of hormone induced chickens on a Sunday morning. So I took my pitches to three major networks with three basic premises. Willie Bee. The athlete. The dreamer. The bachelor… because we all know life isn’t just about business.
So Channel Seven wouldn’t entertain my reality show pitch revolving around an amateur footballer and semi professional weight lifter (Liftin’ over 60 on the bench press for seven weeks now). 7 Mate were more interested though. Basically the show’s basic premise is a realistic look into my growth as Australia’s greatest fencer. This was suggested after I told them that I would sell my soul to get a show on the airwaves, including being struck and poked in a disturbingly erotic fashion. The show focuses on my struggle in gaining a reputation in a country (and planet) that is dominated by macho sports such as football, basketball and water polo. The characters, I mean, people involved in my life are also a vital piece of creating the mould of a life that is as hectic as it is irrelevant. Juan Antonio Gonzalez is my Spanish mentor and best friend. My girlfriend of 13 months, Angelina, is a model and promoter. Her close relationship with Juan as a part time employee organising my busy schedule is another sub-plot in this compelling documentation of an elite athlete’s daily life.
Juan enters the training studio with a massive grin on his face. He approaches Willie with gusto and hands him a new fencing costume. Willie talks to the camera in that awkwardly forced reality television style, ‘I was a little confused when Juan came in with a new fencing costume, Wednesday are usually the day of rest for us fencers’. Willie puts the outfit on and a crowd gathers to watch him train. The crowd are chuckling at the scene. Willie begins to get frustrated, believing they are laughing at his technique. He growls at the crowd, ‘You f##### think you could do this better than me. You’re all a fucking joke.’ The crowd looks shocked, particularly the special guests from the Australian Olympic Committee who were looking to invest in lower profile sports. Willie looks at Juan who is laughing manically. Angelina comes out of the office and smiles at Juan in an all too intimate matter. Juan giddily motions Angelina to come to him. She begins to cackle in a similar manner to Juan. Willie does not know what the big deal is. ‘I didn’t know what the big deal was’ he tells the camera. Juan then reveals to him that he cut the material that would cover the buttocks. Willie looks embarrassed and giggles along until he snaps. ‘What the f### are you laughing at you fat c###?’ He screams at an AOC representative. The crowd disperses. He then looks at Juan and pulls him to a private room. The microphone cannot pick up the dialogue but Willie’s face explodes to a crimson colour. After a five minute hiatus, he exits the room and screams at Angelina, ‘I’m not stupid, I know you are f##### him… Well, I’ve f### your sister.’ The episode ends as Willie leaves the studio and a career in fencing.
The show never quite worked out. Something about manipulating a fame hungry individual enough to believe he was a legitimate athlete was not quite moral in 7Mate’s eyes. It was replaced by Dressing Down, a show about the husbands of lingerie footballers and a behind the scenes look at their emasculated lives.
Inception: The mind of a confused lad.
Channel Ten love a show aimed at the confused 18-30 demographic and this one drips with young adult angst. As a failing university student with a penchant for writing and performing bits that no one gives a shit about, Channel Ten have decided to follow my life. From a chance meeting with the actress from the late night premature ejaculation adverts to his first hospitalisation after viewing a comment from NeVa_scARED269 on my first youtube video, Inception: The mind of a confused lad is a heartbreaking look at a corrupted state of mind. In his own mind he is the writer of four best sellers, the lead actor in a robot cop show with a twist, director of a couple of children’s television shows, because the price of philanthropy is always right (50K an episode) and the owner of a New York theatre company who make parodies of popular novels. Realistically he is a destroyed young man waiting by the telephone for a call from a casting agent, a friend or just a chat with a foreign telemarketer for a bit of a laugh. The show splits the imagined to real landscape straight down the middle to find the gulf of New Mexico separating the two. And if that’s not depressing enough, his girlfriend just dumped him for his best friend despite her not being good enough for him in his alternate reality. From the creators of ‘Are you smarter than a 5th grader?’, and ‘Puberty Blues’, comes Inception: the mind of a confused lad.
Alejandro Dominique is at a dinner party. The first scene of My Master’s Appreciation, a figure in 25th century Ukraine who seeks the emancipation of the Romanian slaves. He is sussing out the beautiful Penelope, who is married to Count Popich, son of Tsar Phillip the II. She is taken by his dark, rich brown eyes and thin moustache and pulls him to a secluded room where she kisses him hard and tells him of her deep, dark unhappiness in her marriage to the Count. Alejandro pulls her clothes off and ravishes her with his gentle hands, she lightly sighs as he guides her through a sensual and passionate love making experience. Just as she appears to be reaching a climatic point, Popich walks in and slowly closes the door. ‘I thought I would find you here Penelope, you cannot resist a mysterious knight in shining armour. Now you must die… you too, Alejandro’, Popich confidently states. ‘That’s where you are wrong Popich’, Alejandro retorts, ‘for I am the true ruler of this kingdom and this will be the room for my three wives and eight children.’ He reveals his jewel encrusted sword and sticks it to Popich’s throat. Popich simply laughs as Penelope sticks her own sword into a startled Alejandro’s abdomen. Alejandro drifts into semi-consciousness with the laughter of Popich and Penelope drowning out any other noise….
Willie wakes to find himself in an acting class. A young girl struggles to remember her lines. She is turning Shakespeare into Stephanie Meyer. Willie notices that Matthew Newton is taking the class and the vein at the top of his forehead is on the verge of bursting. This is the 5th acting lesson Willie has been to and he has not spotted a good looking, talented actress yet. Willie stands up and exits the room, Newton chases after him. ‘What are you doing mate?’ ‘Newton, I can’t do this shit anymore, I’m chasing a wet dream in an insomniac’s dry paddock, it’s kicking me while I’m down’. Newton looks him up and down and laments, ‘I get the whole insomnia thing… look, I’ve been on the search for a male lead for my script based on 25th century Ukraine where Romanians are seeking emancipation. Only one man, Alejandro, can free them from such a terrible plight, you could be that man.’ Willie’s face lights up, the big break he has been after for so long has finally become a realisation. ‘I’m in Matty.’
So begun the production for the greatest box office flop since ‘Town and Country’.
Good dancers make great lovers.
Marvin Gaye: Sexual Healing
Channel Nine didn’t find my approach particularly appropriate when I suggested an idea based around sensual love making at a country cottage and one night stands at dingy Fitzroy apartments. So I took it to the soft porn experts SBS and they jumped at the idea before inviting me to join their production meeting. I turned it down which didn’t really worry them much judging by the bottles of lube that painted the board room table and a bit of Nyotaimori, or food eaten off a naked woman’s body, being offered up. I’d found my home. SBS were particularly taken by my pitch of a bachelor who was an incessant dater with little to no regard for his own dignity. I had to explain to them that this wasn’t quite my intention but they offered me the use of an abandoned warehouse and $300 an episode and I was sold. They envisaged a man seeking love with erotic sex scenes teaming with Scandinavian and Russian models. I explained to them that I wasn’t quite capable of finding such characters but they had already story boarded a whole season of their new art house pornography. Whilst the whole soft porn experience was new to me, it was hardly new to television, judging on the new frontier of shows of the ilk of Queer as Folk, Secret Diary of a Call Girl and ICarly (maybe that was just my imagination) which are all based around sex and relationships. SBS promised me this would be different and not like the other two reality show pitches, close to my actual existence. Thus, Good dancers make Great lovers came to fruition.
Willie walks into a club with three friends, immediately he is awash with the smell of deliciously tangy perfume and pulsating testosterone. He spots a lone girl, 5 foot 10, standing at a bar playing with her hair. She looks at him and smiles once, looks away then three seconds later, looks back. Boom. Challenge accepted. As the story board read, this was the scene that he pretended to be a pool boy in order to seduce her back to his pool room. However, Willie was not going to play by the satanic producer’s orders this time. This was his revolt after episodes of rejection and wingmanning his good looking Spanish Don Mega into highly charged sexual situations to heighten ratings. So Willie looks to approach the stunning blonde Russian at the bar and makes a U-turn at the last moment and heads to the D-Floor… for his final battle. The Producer looks to the Director who looks to the Spanish Don Mega. Willie begins chatting to a typical brunette with a nice smile and beautiful green eyes. ‘She isn’t from Eastern Europe Juan!’ The Director yells to the Assistant Producer. Behind the scenes, the Producer screams ‘But all his other reality shows are set up, he was the robot in our grand plan!’ Willie begins to dance slowly with the uncredited actress. She swings her hips into his and all appears to be working out very nicely. Until the Spanish Don Mega interrupts. ‘Can I have this dance’ he says in a thick Mediterranean accent. The girl looks from Willie to the SDM. She is caught up in a battle between the smoking hot Spaniard and the desperately lonely reality fool. She cannot decide. Willie claims that like the Ashes, a drawn series means that the reigning champion should retain the championship… or in this case, woman. SDM laughs and challenges Willie to a Tango… to the death. Willie accepts. The crowd have fallen silent, many still stunned by the 10 dollar beers being sold at the bar. The floor clears. The DJ spins that shit…
The Spanish Don Mega looks Willie Bee in the eyes and thrusts his hips back and forth… on repeat. ‘He dances like a white jock at a frat party’, the cameraman quips. The crowd are lost in his eyes though. Rapturous applause follows. Willie Bee begins his dance, shaking left, shaking right, nutmegging the SDM and filling the kids’ cones with ice cream, original moves. The crowd are uninterested and barely raise their hands. At this point the Producer laughs and looks Willie Bee in the eyes. ‘You cannot beat reality TV Willie, we control you!’ Willie bows his head. The crowd begin to murmur. All of the sudden he grabs the microphone. ‘This is what is wrong with reality TV. Free will does not exist. We are stuck in a world where the script makes talentless fucks like this Spanish dude look like he actually has something important to say. He doesn’t, he’s just good looking. He’s a mannequin. These people are not interesting. Their lives are not interesting. They probably sit on the toilet for half an hour reading the Green Guide just like me. But you people create these dramas for them and manipulate them into thinking they are genuine stars. And then desperados like me come looking for the smallest sniff of fame and pussy. Well I don’t need your fame and I only need a couple of sniffs of pussy thank you very much.’ Willie expects the girl to be moved by the speech as he storms off. She walks up to SDM and he offers to buy her a drink. She accepts. Shallowness prevails and a spin off is announced. Willie becomes just another victim of the Reality TV world.
No other channels would accept my calls for my other ideas. Even the one about the singer/songwriter with a desire to become a marine biologist.