How fantastically named is this programme! Fifty-five minutes of direness, hosted by Alexander Armstrong, with a style more wooden than Epping fucking forest. The 'celebrities' were pleased to be on camera rather than at the bottom of the barrel.
John Virgo thought Mr Potato Head was one of the Mister Men, and Dennis Taylor was up to nothing. Esther Rantzen has got a daughter called Rebecca, who offers the world little. Paul Ross seemed knowledgeable and so his team-mate John Thompson benefited. Meanwhile, Edith Bowman's mate (Rick something-or-other) seemed to think Turin was in Switzerland rather than Italy.
Some of the class quotes were: "We've now come to our Pointless final." Never a truer word spoken, Alexander! This was followed by his equally eloquent summing up, after Paul and John got through - "You've won our coveted Pointless trophy."
The 'jackpot' of a paltry £2500 was not won, but it mattered not, as Alexander said he'd donate £500 to each celebrity pair, for their charities. So, four times £500. The stakes are so high in this pointless programme.
This is the howling disaster of the television world.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment