Lucy Vickery

Competition | 17 October 2009

Lucy Vickery presents the latest competition

issue 17 October 2009

Lucy Vickery presents the latest competition

In Competition No. 2617 you were invited, in the wake of Big Brother’s demise, to submit a proposal for a new TV reality show guaranteed to pull in the punters.

This assignment was an invitation to plumb the depths of bad taste. And plumb them you did. I winced as I waded through a postbag that incorporated all the hallmarks of reality TV: cruelty, banality, inanity, exploitation, voyeurism and abject humiliation. W.J. Webster’s entry, the epitome of awfulness, was couched in language that managed to combine cliché, political correctness and bogus compassion in a truly toxic brew. He was spot-on, too, in his observation, which surely explains the genre’s irresistible appeal to telly-makers, that one of its major selling points is that it generates ratings-winning TV at minimal cost (unless you count the human one, that is). Commendations, too, to Gillian Ewing, Shirley Curran, Mark Ambrose and Adrian Fry. I step off my soapbox only to announce that this week’s bonus fiver belongs to D.A. Prince; the other winners, printed below, receive £30 each.

Waiting Rooms: in real time, a selection of NHS patients drawn from the local community wait to see their GP. Their conversation may cover any or all of the following: illness, operations, decor of waiting room, attitude of receptionist, tests, choice of available magazines, family members (and associated problems), local buses, breakfast TV, MPs, swine flu, parking. Voters at home are able to prioritise the appointments procedure, and vote for who should see the GP first. Candidates with fewer votes have correspondingly longer waits, while those patients unfortunate enough to attract no votes are unable to access medical care. Aims: to focus audience awareness on NHS priorities, and develop personal knowledge of urgent/non-urgent medical conditions;  to present an alternative method of accessing GPs, bypassing the expensive (and frequently partisan) receptionist; to provide substitute community gossip for the housebound/isolated, and to remind them of the necessity for lively conversation when their turn comes to visit their GP.

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