Ending my tawdry love affair with 'Big Brother'

On Friday, there was an article in the paper with the title "What kind of person still wants to be in 'Big Brother'?"; the journalist visiting the latest round of auditions to find out.  The article made, for me at least, pretty depressing reading; full as it was of descriptions of terminally ill people ("things aren't going too well medically and I thought...go out with a bang" in the words of one) and a wheelchair-bound girl who said that going on the show would be her "best opportunity to live my life again".  The audition write-up also featured people such as "25 year-old perfume-sprayer Jonathan..." surrounding a producer who is "making them dance to music played on her mobile phone."  

And as I read the article I found myself wondering "what kind of person still wants to watch 'Big Brother'?" before remembering that that kind of person used to be me.  I would defend the programme to the hilt to anybody even remotely interested, even though people would often say to me that they were surprised that I would watch and like something so odious - I even had a boss who said he thought "far less of your intelligence than I used to" on finding out I was a fan!

The reason I liked, and would defend 'Big Brother' was borne of the fascination I had - have - for up-close everyday human observation and the constant surprises that that would bring.  I don't deny that every year the contestants were more and more savvy and fame-hungry, but every year, after the first couple of weeks had passed their true personalities would slowly, and mostly against their will, become revealed...like picking slices of peeling paint from a plain wooden fence.  What 'Big Brother' seemed to prove, time and time again, was that no matter what facade you chose to show the world around you, it would always be the real unvarnished 'you' who would be leaving that house in the end.  Some of the evictionees learned things about themselves that they never would have discovered under normal circumstances; most of them understood this and were grateful for it.  Genuine friendships blossomed between the unlikeliest of people, and the dawning of these were always, for me, pure loveliness to watch.  In fact I could (and did!) at one point argue that the show was almost a parable for the modern age (albeit a very garishly-dressed one).  

And yet...and yet...when Channel Four decided to end the show after ten years' run, even I'd had enough of it.  The contestants knew the score by now, and the personalities being revealed were mostly vapid and substance-free.  The relationships being formed seemed only to be cultivated for tabloid interest; indeed potential magazine deals were now excitedly being discussed inside the house.  I had the feeling that these types of personality were the only type the show could now attract; those steely-eyed and closed minded people who wanted free entry to Mahiki and the opportunity to rub shoulders with someone from 'Hollyoaks' and that was all.  

But I also stopped watching 'Big Brother' because I was starting to watch it with a heavy heart; feeling sorry for the contestants who, as vapid and substance-free as I have just described them, still felt their lives were about to be immeasurably improved just by appearing on telly for a few weeks.  Once on this blog I described a documentary I watched about teenage mums, whom appeared relieved that by having kids, they had done something; they'd always have an answer to that Big Question "...so what are you doing with your life?"  and I was starting to see that same desperation reflected in 'Big Brother' contestants (and 'X Factor' contestants, and so on and so on).  

And so now we laugh at reality TV contestants and we're glad we're not them, whereas at some point before we might have found something to admire in them, or we might at least have been interested in who they were.  And that is the main reason I, in all my infinite wisdom, believe that such shows should be put to bed and be smothered softly with a pillow.