I don’t watch many reality TV shows. In fact, truth be told, i don’t watch much TV at all anymore. This sounds noble and like I have filled my time with more worthwhile pursuits … in fact, I just spend more time on the Internet. However. One program I do watch is Wife Swap, the British reality show where the wives in two families swap for two weeks. It’s English, which automatically makes it a step ahead of the US shows. For example, there are no catchy phrases and no-one gets to carry flaming torches. Although flaming torches are not, in and of themselves, detrimental to reality shows. Very real, the flaming torch.
But I digress. Wife Swap screens on Channel Nine, the channel you watch when you’re not watching Ten. And I happened to wander into the lounge slightly earlier than usual, and turned on the TV anyway. It seems Channel Nine chooses to screen back-to-back reality shows – quite frankly, this is a wise move as it seems no-one but me has anything against them. And this particular one was The Bachelor IV – The Bitches Bite Back. OK it wasn’t really called that; but I don’t remember its lame and pointless actual title. Ladies Night, or something. Basically, it consisted of all the dumped Spinsters talking about why they were dumped by the Bachelor; and how if he’d only seen their real, true selves, then they wouldn’t have been dumped. Quite entertaining, in a vacuous fashion – I love the complete lack of self awareness that reality TV contestants often display. Well, I enjoy it for about 2 minutes, and then I get embarrassed for them, and then it’s all over and I have to change the channel.
As amazing as it may seem, I have not seen a Bachelor to date. And apparently they are up to The Bachelor IV. What Have I been Doing with my Time. If only I’d known, I could have been watching the journey of this Bachelor through the 25 Spinsters, firing out roses and rejecting many an American beauty. However, now I have rectified this and I am all caught up. Apart from the small matter of the Bachelor’s name. They must have mentioned it somewhere, but I will continue to call him the Bachelor. I don’t think he’ll mind. And in fact, since I will no doubt forget his very existence by tomorrow, it is more economical not to clutter up space in my head with the name of the Bachelor. After all, what if they go on to The Bachelor V? My knowledge will be useless, like my Medieval English credits. In fact, if I could chuck out all this Chaucer in my brain, I might have more room for Bachelorisms.
