Something I Thought I Should Put In For Normal People, 'Cos The Other Entry's Entirely About Doctor Who
It might seem a little out of step with what most of the "proper" media are saying, but we really are much too tolerant these days.
The news this week is that the BBC have, with a spectacular sense of timing, made a programme in which eight people are given a million quid to become traders. To be fair, the BBC have a remarkable ability to get things like this right; just when everybody's talking about how any arsecake could become a trader, they make a programme in which a bunch of random people try and become traders. Whenever RTÉ try this they wind up making a programme about five women going back to work, called 5 Women Go Back To Work, and expect everyone to go "ah great, a programme in which women re-integrate themselves into working life" rather than "how come I'm unemployed and that rich bint has got a job she doesn't even need?" There's probably a relationship to the way that English people arrange to meet in the pub at 8, and then actually show up at 8, rather than 8:45 like a normal person. It's sad but true that there's a link between relevance and punctuality.
Anyway... the BBC's new programme seems more or less perfect, given that – for the first time, erm, ever – people are vaguely interested in what actually happens in The City. This interest is largely because we've all realised that the millions of money being thrown around by some self-obsessed coked-up twatbags actually effects what happens in the real world, but still... if ever there was a time to show what traders actually do, then this is it. The programme will no doubt show that there's more to being a trader than just shouting "buy" or "sell" down phones at random, yipping like a puppy as you drive another bank under, and spending more on your Friday lunch than the individuals you've put out of work receive for their dole; we will all realise that it's a stressful, skilful and difficult job; and we will manfully ignore the fact that, of the eight people who try to become a trader, a quarter of them will probably turn out to be quite good about it.
Here's the thing, though; I'm about as interested in the mechanics of being a trader-type as I am in the complex administrative procedures behind Stalin's elimination of the Kulaks. Whether being a stockbroker is difficult just doesn't come into it as far as I'm concerned; the point isn't that it's easy, it's that it's shit, and unacceptable, and generally an unforgivable way to spend your time. I'm sure the numbers game behind it all is fascinating, but if you're doing it for the complex joy of the mathematics then you might as well buy yourself a book of Sudoku like a normal person. The problem with traders is that they're the most useless thing on god's green earth, who actually contribute less to society than advertisers. Certainly, if it wasn't for some car advert that used Inbetween Days as its soundtrack, then I'd never have remembered just how good The Cure were, and I wouldn't have bought Disintegration. I owe advertising a lot, if I bear that in mind. But the stock market? What have those arseholes ever done for me?
The only way this programme could become interesting would be if the winner is forced to cut his/her own worthless throat for ever thinking of aspiring towards being one of these leeches. I'm prepared to bet that's not going to happen. And, this being Ingerland, it's also probably not going to feature the hilarious incompetence that we got to see in the Irish version of The Apprentice. So, taking all things into consideration, I'm going to stick to watching Survivors as my guilty pleasure. It's rubbish, but 99.9% of the world's population die in the first episode. Statistically, it's almost certain that Tony Blair, Sarah Palin, Jeremy Clarkson, Russell Brand and The Annoying Continuity Announcer On UTV probably no longer exist, and that's the sort of post-apocalyptic world I want to live in. If you really want to make a grim and depressing drama, you kill everyone off and then establish that Yer Man from the Halifax adverts is still alive.
.
Ways to Piss Off Your Bank, number 435: tell them you'll open a savings account with them, but only if a senior management figure says "Please sir, please, we need the money", in a little girl's voice.
Ways to Annoy People in a Gym, number 68: shout at the top of your voice "You know why I'm this fat? Cake. I ate lots and lots of delicious cake."
Reasons that Stephen Fry's a Git, number 23: he calls his blog entries "blessays". I swear to god I'm not making this up.
Small Things to Think About, number 1: Didn't Ross O'Carroll Kelly stop being funny about four years ago?
The news this week is that the BBC have, with a spectacular sense of timing, made a programme in which eight people are given a million quid to become traders. To be fair, the BBC have a remarkable ability to get things like this right; just when everybody's talking about how any arsecake could become a trader, they make a programme in which a bunch of random people try and become traders. Whenever RTÉ try this they wind up making a programme about five women going back to work, called 5 Women Go Back To Work, and expect everyone to go "ah great, a programme in which women re-integrate themselves into working life" rather than "how come I'm unemployed and that rich bint has got a job she doesn't even need?" There's probably a relationship to the way that English people arrange to meet in the pub at 8, and then actually show up at 8, rather than 8:45 like a normal person. It's sad but true that there's a link between relevance and punctuality.
Anyway... the BBC's new programme seems more or less perfect, given that – for the first time, erm, ever – people are vaguely interested in what actually happens in The City. This interest is largely because we've all realised that the millions of money being thrown around by some self-obsessed coked-up twatbags actually effects what happens in the real world, but still... if ever there was a time to show what traders actually do, then this is it. The programme will no doubt show that there's more to being a trader than just shouting "buy" or "sell" down phones at random, yipping like a puppy as you drive another bank under, and spending more on your Friday lunch than the individuals you've put out of work receive for their dole; we will all realise that it's a stressful, skilful and difficult job; and we will manfully ignore the fact that, of the eight people who try to become a trader, a quarter of them will probably turn out to be quite good about it.
Here's the thing, though; I'm about as interested in the mechanics of being a trader-type as I am in the complex administrative procedures behind Stalin's elimination of the Kulaks. Whether being a stockbroker is difficult just doesn't come into it as far as I'm concerned; the point isn't that it's easy, it's that it's shit, and unacceptable, and generally an unforgivable way to spend your time. I'm sure the numbers game behind it all is fascinating, but if you're doing it for the complex joy of the mathematics then you might as well buy yourself a book of Sudoku like a normal person. The problem with traders is that they're the most useless thing on god's green earth, who actually contribute less to society than advertisers. Certainly, if it wasn't for some car advert that used Inbetween Days as its soundtrack, then I'd never have remembered just how good The Cure were, and I wouldn't have bought Disintegration. I owe advertising a lot, if I bear that in mind. But the stock market? What have those arseholes ever done for me?
The only way this programme could become interesting would be if the winner is forced to cut his/her own worthless throat for ever thinking of aspiring towards being one of these leeches. I'm prepared to bet that's not going to happen. And, this being Ingerland, it's also probably not going to feature the hilarious incompetence that we got to see in the Irish version of The Apprentice. So, taking all things into consideration, I'm going to stick to watching Survivors as my guilty pleasure. It's rubbish, but 99.9% of the world's population die in the first episode. Statistically, it's almost certain that Tony Blair, Sarah Palin, Jeremy Clarkson, Russell Brand and The Annoying Continuity Announcer On UTV probably no longer exist, and that's the sort of post-apocalyptic world I want to live in. If you really want to make a grim and depressing drama, you kill everyone off and then establish that Yer Man from the Halifax adverts is still alive.
.
Ways to Piss Off Your Bank, number 435: tell them you'll open a savings account with them, but only if a senior management figure says "Please sir, please, we need the money", in a little girl's voice.
Ways to Annoy People in a Gym, number 68: shout at the top of your voice "You know why I'm this fat? Cake. I ate lots and lots of delicious cake."
Reasons that Stephen Fry's a Git, number 23: he calls his blog entries "blessays". I swear to god I'm not making this up.
Small Things to Think About, number 1: Didn't Ross O'Carroll Kelly stop being funny about four years ago?
posted by Nyder O'Leary at
19:10
6 Comments:
The black background and white text is murder on the eyes, change it please!!!
Sorry, but it's the only standard Blogger template which doesn't look shit.
I reckon it's OK on the eyes, you must just have glaucoma.
Traders are fat.
You're fat.
I know at least one trader, and he's fat. I'm just big boned.
Also have a guilty survivor secret, although I do find the greatest flaw in Survivors being the survivors. End of world - good. How about a series just showing relaxing panoramic shots of the slowly crumbling artifacts of mankind. It could star Kate Winslet as a cockroach.
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