Kareoke TV

Music is a major element in the cultures of many societies around the world. Steeped in ideological meanings and perspectives, which greatly affects the way we view and act out our lives. Music is a global language….

Such meanings and emotion in a piece of music can however, be crushed like a clove of garlic once a 18 stone sweaty drunkard stumbles onto a crudely constructed stage. Once inside this dubious pub and with his dilating pupils focused on a monitor as he bellows out the lyrics of a song to a completely different rhythm. The only meanings we can decode from his performance are that people who drink too much and think melody is a pornographic magazine should be kept away from a microphone and an unsuspecting audience. I don't know what's more criminal, Frank Sinatra's relationship with the evil Mafia or the thousands of oafs who murder his songs on a kareoke system every night.

If you think this phenomena of song butchering was confined to the black market of cheesy pubs with poor décor, you would be wrong. A new evil is emerging…Kareoke TV. It seems as if weekend evening terrestrial programming has become a baron land inhabited by screaming banshees. Star for a Night, This is your Moment, Pop Stars, pop idol and other lamely titled kareoke influenced shows invite people on to sing their favourite songs to the nation. Now I wish the TV execs would consult with us before they invited the 'singing sensations' on to the show. A live broadcast of a vasectomy would be more entertaining and at least the patients would have a far better chance of reaching the higher notes than the singing buffoons that grace such programmes.

An edition of one such programme called Star for a Night involved a pig ugly woman with a fat arse talks about how she's been earning cash by singing in pubs for many years in her quest to become a pop star. The only reason she's earn money in public houses is because the punters pile her with cash in a desperate attempt to bring an end to her 'vocal talents'. Cue poor reproduction of Tina Turner's 'Simply the Best', the big munter clambers on to the stage as she attempts to tackle the ironically chosen song. Even away from the surroundings of gambling machines and sticky carpets she delivers an exact performance, triggering a reaction of suicidal tendencies amongst the audience. Then the pain is over as the song ends. Time to get the members of the judging panel's verdicts! 'Shocking, bollocks, get out the door you god-awful woman' are responses you might suspect from the panel! Of course not silly, because the paragon of artistic critique Barbara Windsor is one of the judges! Bubbly Babe's giggles in admiration,' you've got a lovely voice'. You lying cow! I thought cockney folks were supposed to be 'salt of the earth and tell it straight' people? Then again, I suppose Peggy does have the right criteria to judge people's talents, she had to marry a gangster and flash her breasts in numerous Carry On movies to consolidate her position in the media industry. Such hard work and dedication is an inspiration to us all.

Whilst there's a place for a talent like Bubbly Babe's on TV, there isn't for kareoke legends. If I want to see you sing I'll go to the pub, so can you please refrain from polluting the airwaves? Much appreciated.