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Simon Cowell and a tough lesson in TV talent-show democracy, Chinese style Simon Cowell and a tough lesson in TV talent-show democracy, Chinese style
(6 months later)
Gather ye sacrifices, readers, for these are dark days for the Karaoke Sauron. High atop his tower and surveying the Waste Spaces, Simon Cowell's Botox is set to "troubled". His army of necromancers bring him dark portents: a planted story about the X Factor's soaring wage bill has failed to liquefy sufficient human tears to tide his publicity orcs over the Easter break. An attempt to simulate feeling in a series of tweets has merely served to remind us that emotion is his phantom limb. And a local news report reveals that a mere ONE person turned up to the X Factor's Colchester auditions this week, with producers only able to lure 15 to 20 further people off the street all day.Gather ye sacrifices, readers, for these are dark days for the Karaoke Sauron. High atop his tower and surveying the Waste Spaces, Simon Cowell's Botox is set to "troubled". His army of necromancers bring him dark portents: a planted story about the X Factor's soaring wage bill has failed to liquefy sufficient human tears to tide his publicity orcs over the Easter break. An attempt to simulate feeling in a series of tweets has merely served to remind us that emotion is his phantom limb. And a local news report reveals that a mere ONE person turned up to the X Factor's Colchester auditions this week, with producers only able to lure 15 to 20 further people off the street all day.
Such omens appear to have driven Simon to marshal a fresh assault on culture's defences. What else to make of a news story claiming that SyCo TV, Cowell's production company, is developing a drama about the early years of Broadmoor psychiatric hospital. Given the point in the calendar at which we find ourselves, a call to SyCo is required. "Do forgive the inquiry," begins Lost in Showbiz, "but I just wanted to triple-check this is an April fool." There is a pause. "No," comes the distinctly affronted reply. "I can tell you this is definitely not an April fool." Well. After making exaggeratedly profuse apologies for the error, Lost in Showbiz cordially requested as much further information as possible on the matter – and was fully expecting the press officer to get around to providing it just the second temperatures in Hell plunge below freezing. Yet lo and behold, a press release arrives, confirming that the project is a collaboration between Mammoth Productions, which brought us the brilliant Parade's End, and Simon Cowell, who has brought us any number of great moments in mental health.Such omens appear to have driven Simon to marshal a fresh assault on culture's defences. What else to make of a news story claiming that SyCo TV, Cowell's production company, is developing a drama about the early years of Broadmoor psychiatric hospital. Given the point in the calendar at which we find ourselves, a call to SyCo is required. "Do forgive the inquiry," begins Lost in Showbiz, "but I just wanted to triple-check this is an April fool." There is a pause. "No," comes the distinctly affronted reply. "I can tell you this is definitely not an April fool." Well. After making exaggeratedly profuse apologies for the error, Lost in Showbiz cordially requested as much further information as possible on the matter – and was fully expecting the press officer to get around to providing it just the second temperatures in Hell plunge below freezing. Yet lo and behold, a press release arrives, confirming that the project is a collaboration between Mammoth Productions, which brought us the brilliant Parade's End, and Simon Cowell, who has brought us any number of great moments in mental health.
"In the years before the advent of modern psychiatry," explains the press release, "Broadmoor was a safe haven for patients, providing them with rest, routine and recreation, with pastimes including croquet, musical instruction and gardening." I wish I wasn't picturing Sinitta supervising quoits in a white-coated version of Judges' Houses – but go on. "The series will tell the extraordinary stories of patients before and after their confinement," we learn, "such as William Chester Minor, a murderer who became one of the principal contributors to the Oxford English Dictionary while at Broadmoor; Richard Dadd, who murdered his father and went on to be one of the most acclaimed Victorian painters; and Christiana Edmunds, the notorious 'Chocolate Cream Poisoner'.""In the years before the advent of modern psychiatry," explains the press release, "Broadmoor was a safe haven for patients, providing them with rest, routine and recreation, with pastimes including croquet, musical instruction and gardening." I wish I wasn't picturing Sinitta supervising quoits in a white-coated version of Judges' Houses – but go on. "The series will tell the extraordinary stories of patients before and after their confinement," we learn, "such as William Chester Minor, a murderer who became one of the principal contributors to the Oxford English Dictionary while at Broadmoor; Richard Dadd, who murdered his father and went on to be one of the most acclaimed Victorian painters; and Christiana Edmunds, the notorious 'Chocolate Cream Poisoner'."
Going on the bare bones, I suppose Cowell only has a low bar to clear, taste-wise. After all, given that we now know Jimmy Savile had keys to the secure wards at Broadmoor, the truth will always be more grotesque than any fiction even he could engender.Going on the bare bones, I suppose Cowell only has a low bar to clear, taste-wise. After all, given that we now know Jimmy Savile had keys to the secure wards at Broadmoor, the truth will always be more grotesque than any fiction even he could engender.
Even so, a sense of unease seems to attend his empire. Most troubling, perhaps, are the challenges to Simon's stated aim of bringing democracy to various totalitarian regimes via the means of his talent shows. Back in 2009, you might recall, Simon's claim for his formats placed them somewhere between the civil-rights struggle and the second world war in terms of human liberation. "The great thing is where you start seeing it in places like China and Afghanistan," he said of his rapidly proliferating show's influence. "It's democracy. We've kind of given democracy back to the world."Even so, a sense of unease seems to attend his empire. Most troubling, perhaps, are the challenges to Simon's stated aim of bringing democracy to various totalitarian regimes via the means of his talent shows. Back in 2009, you might recall, Simon's claim for his formats placed them somewhere between the civil-rights struggle and the second world war in terms of human liberation. "The great thing is where you start seeing it in places like China and Afghanistan," he said of his rapidly proliferating show's influence. "It's democracy. We've kind of given democracy back to the world."
But have they? Lost in Showbiz is moved to ask after reading the tale of Iain Inglis, the 30-year-old college lecturer from Wales who made it all the way to the semi-final of China's Got Talent.But have they? Lost in Showbiz is moved to ask after reading the tale of Iain Inglis, the 30-year-old college lecturer from Wales who made it all the way to the semi-final of China's Got Talent.
Reading on a mobile? View hereReading on a mobile? View here
Tangentially, we should note that British expats seem to wildly outpunch their demographic weight in televised Chinese talent shows: Mary-Jess Leaverland, a British university student on her year abroad, won a knock-off version of The X Factor in 2011. But Mr Inglis's achievement feels somehow more remarkable, given that his shtick was dressing up in a People's Liberation Army uniform and singing communist revolutionary songs. Reading between the lines, he seems to have been the Jedward or Wagner of the series, the so-bad-they're-good act that audiences keep supporting, under the adorable misconception that their lucrative phone votes are somehow disrupting the best-laid plans of the show bosses.Tangentially, we should note that British expats seem to wildly outpunch their demographic weight in televised Chinese talent shows: Mary-Jess Leaverland, a British university student on her year abroad, won a knock-off version of The X Factor in 2011. But Mr Inglis's achievement feels somehow more remarkable, given that his shtick was dressing up in a People's Liberation Army uniform and singing communist revolutionary songs. Reading between the lines, he seems to have been the Jedward or Wagner of the series, the so-bad-they're-good act that audiences keep supporting, under the adorable misconception that their lucrative phone votes are somehow disrupting the best-laid plans of the show bosses.
Anyway, Inglis claims to have been preparing for his next performance when he was unceremoniously expelled from the competition. "As far as I knew, I was through to the final round," he told reporters. "But the day before I was due to perform, I got a phone call saying the Bureau of Broadcasting had said I wasn't able to go on. There was no real reason given – perhaps they weren't very keen on having a foreigner singing songs about communism. Of course, I was very disappointed, but that's just how it is. I wasn't very surprised."Anyway, Inglis claims to have been preparing for his next performance when he was unceremoniously expelled from the competition. "As far as I knew, I was through to the final round," he told reporters. "But the day before I was due to perform, I got a phone call saying the Bureau of Broadcasting had said I wasn't able to go on. There was no real reason given – perhaps they weren't very keen on having a foreigner singing songs about communism. Of course, I was very disappointed, but that's just how it is. I wasn't very surprised."
Less buoyant, you will have noted, is Cowell's theory that he has "given democracy back to the world". Even SyCo minions have to concede that Inglis's summary dismissal is only a marginally less elegant version of the naked manipulation that characterises a Cowell show. Far from giving democracy back to authoritarian countries, Simon is gifting them authoritarianism. This is rather less of an achievement, all told, and we must hope he will adjust his pyramid inscription accordingly.Less buoyant, you will have noted, is Cowell's theory that he has "given democracy back to the world". Even SyCo minions have to concede that Inglis's summary dismissal is only a marginally less elegant version of the naked manipulation that characterises a Cowell show. Far from giving democracy back to authoritarian countries, Simon is gifting them authoritarianism. This is rather less of an achievement, all told, and we must hope he will adjust his pyramid inscription accordingly.
The fine line between fact and fiction – an apology
The fine line between fact and fiction – an apology
Incidentally, I have no wish to counter the school of thought which holds there are few greater pleasures than making a complete arse of yourself in print. But despite the fact it has been dealt with formally elsewhere, decency demands I make a WTF-strewn apology for last week's triumph, which saw an entire Steven Seagal item based on something fictional. Royal charter or no royal charter, I truly considered giving this correction equal prominence. But frankly, 900-odd words explaining how absolutely essential it is that you ignore this column has the flavour of telling you something you already know. Another week, perhaps. In the meantime, suffice to say that there are code-scrambled pieces of Transnistrian email spam containing more credible and useful information than Lost in Showbiz, above whose metaphorical lintel is painted a deathless motto: CAVEAT STARGAZOR.Incidentally, I have no wish to counter the school of thought which holds there are few greater pleasures than making a complete arse of yourself in print. But despite the fact it has been dealt with formally elsewhere, decency demands I make a WTF-strewn apology for last week's triumph, which saw an entire Steven Seagal item based on something fictional. Royal charter or no royal charter, I truly considered giving this correction equal prominence. But frankly, 900-odd words explaining how absolutely essential it is that you ignore this column has the flavour of telling you something you already know. Another week, perhaps. In the meantime, suffice to say that there are code-scrambled pieces of Transnistrian email spam containing more credible and useful information than Lost in Showbiz, above whose metaphorical lintel is painted a deathless motto: CAVEAT STARGAZOR.
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