After being subjected to ‘Take Me Out’ the other night, which incidentally is the much rumoured ‘End Of TV As We Know It’ (also, if the genders were reversed, it would look a bit gang-bangy), it got me thinking about the male of the species. In fact that is pretty much ALL you can think of when watching it. The focus is so heavily placed upon the men and what it is to be attractive to women, that one can’t help feeling wanting. Not that I am: a) insecure with who I am (brilliantly average), b) on the look out for new female playmates (of that I can promise you Vicky), c) especially not on the lookout for the kinds of women that find themselves on Take Me Out.
It seems that to be perceived to be attractive then you need to have a vacant expression belying a complete disinterest of anything outside of their arm’s reach. With the looks of a weaselly schoolboy from the 1980s replete with the ‘Triad of Douchery’: low cut t-shirt (exposing all of 1 hair), single stud (though having both pierced proves true the maxim ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’), and idiotic shoes be it platforms (it’s not the 70s…80s…90s), or untied boots (poor parenting). You also need to have a cocky arrogance that is completely misplaced, especially when considering the above.
It is this elevation of the aesthetic by an increasing number of the population (‘The Great Overwashed’) that presents challenges both for politicians in terms of voter engagement, but also for the wider society if we are to maintain some rough semblance of community. But this is old hat.
Possibly in the brave new world of my new ‘friendly autocratic’ government, I will commission a show in a similar style to Take Me Out but where contestants were recognised for their depths, their artistic side, ability to author a coherent critique of Samuel Huntingdon’s Clash of Civilisations thesis etc. I would have to resist temptations to call it ‘ X Marx the Spot’ for no other reason that it makes me laugh. Such is my whim.