The Antithesis of Reality

Think of a fake tanned, Asda smart price Paris Hilton shopping in outlet centre's, driving around in a Micra and you are some way into the sensory overload that is “The only way is Essex”. This latest offering in reality television contains a cast of real (and I use the term lightly) people going about their daily business.

Without wanting to come across as a pompous aristocrat (which I am certainly not) I never really sat in bed contemplating the intricacy's of a fame hungry individuals life in Essex. It seems nonetheless that my unpreached prayers were answered. If I only had a modicum of sense then I would have turned to a higher being.

In fairness I can't fully detail the full perplexity of the programme as it seems the inevitable temptation to seek out alternative hells took hold. But for the first 10 minutes it seemed as though I was watching the antithesis of reality and was in fact watching a lie acted out by figurines carved out of fresh oranges and dressed in Primani's latest collection.

The programme itself is shot with a hazy glint, which is ironic as it appears on screen like some sort of twisted dream sequence which could be used to torture hoards of prisoners on Guantanamo Bay. Maybe Kubrick was tunnelling “The only way is Essex” into Alex's eyes in the Clockwork Orange. The haziness is accompanied by a serious amount of over lighting which is most likely used to protect any real expressions which may occur on any of the Essex superstars.

Ultimately it may be an over reaction to class a television programme in the same sentence as hell, but it is starting to feel like the square box on the wall that I used to hold so much respect for appears to be mocking me. It does this by continually hurling an arsenal of sub-human programmes at me. So where I used to watch television as a form of escapism, it looks like it may soon be time to hide amongst the piles of shoes and umbrellas in the vestibule from the television instead.