"Made in Chelsea": Proving Reality TV Just isn't too Great

Once again it's that time of the year when the poshos of the UK unite to display some of their best, but mostly worst, moments and create one of TV's potentially most dull, pointless and yet popular shows of today. Yes, that's right, Jamie, Louise, Spencer, Toff, Tiff Tuff Binky Tinky-Winky - they're back in some combination for the show's ninth season, at which point respect must be given to those who have escaped. A well-deserved round of applause for the ex-cast members, who actually had something else going on in their lives.

Some have come further than others since the show's pilot in 2011. I miss you Caggie.

 I cannot pretend I hate it - it has its funny lines, and now and again I find myself rooting for the occasional couple - but with every season that is fired off (with astonishing speed) I become more and more agitated for a plethora of reasons. So I present to you:

Reasons Why Made in Chelsea now gets "all up in my grill*"
*particular thanks to Lucy Watson for that gem of a phrase

Reality TV is terrifying. It has all (and most of the time, less) of the entertainment of scripted shows, but without the ability to sit back at the end and breathe a heavy sigh of relief, saying "Ah well, that was awkward and frankly harrowing, but at least all of the action was entirely made up by a skilled team of scriptwriters!"

... Oh, no, ladies and gents - this is real. Enhanced drama, perhaps, but Spencer really did cheat on that many girlfriends in a row, Jamie truly is under the impression that he has both an attractive face and personality, and Louise genuinely does pronounce Jamie as "Jay-mair". So, taking Made in Chelsea as a prototype for the entire genre of reality television, I have brought together, in no particular order, nine of the worst quotes from the programme to express just why, of late, this reality show is making 'reality' look more and more like a bloody nightmare.

1. "I think fake tan is probably the most offensive thing in the world." - Rosie Fortescue. Just plain exaggeration, isn't it? I can think of a fair few things that are a whole lot more offensive, and none of them involve cosmetic products. 
   
2. "Fish give birth through their mouths, don't they?" - Binky Felstead. Straight-up promoting incorrect biology. You're confusing the youth of our country, Binks, try harder.
3. "I'm quite a private person." - Tiff Watson. That would be why she's on a nationally broadcast television show. Having every detail of her personal life revealed and discussed in great depth. Emphasis on the "quite", perhaps? 

   

   Tiff privately and subtly taking care of her personal life.

4. "J for genius!" - Jamie Laing. He tried to follow this outburst with a cry of "JOKES! JOKING!" but I can't quite buy it. Perhaps he was too engrossed in his 'business ventures' (read: frolicking in a sweet shop with minimally-clothed girls) to remember his English GCSE. Or, you know, the alphabet. 
   
5. "High street fashion is not allowed under any circumstances whatsoever!" - Mark-Francis Vandelli. Telling the public that their shops of choice are off-limit doesn't do him any favours, but Mark-Francis is excused because the majority of the show's comical gems come from him, and his catty remarks are rarely aimed at a particular person. 

   

   
   
6. "There's nothing more beautiful than a beautiful girl in fur." - Francis Boulle. Utterly enlightening. There's nothing more beautiful than a man who sits alone to one side of a room, surveying women and their coats. Also, a stoat and a mink somewhere would probably argue that there is something more beautiful: an animal with its fur still in tact. 
7. "Totes, man, totes." - Fredrik Ferrier. The true curse of reality television is the ridiculous slang. Even Joey Essex's 'reem' malarky must come second to 'totes'; say it loud enough and it sounds like you're warning your companion of handbags falling from the sky. "TOTES! TOOOOTES!" 
   
8. "Stop opening your f*cking fat mouth, you f*cking fat turkey!" - Victoria Baker-Harber. Was it ever alright to shout this at somebody? At a dinner party? At Christmas? Lines were crossed, because there's nothing quite like promoting the sentiment of "It's fine, I'm rich enough for it not to matter if I completely disrespect the humans around me..." to an entire generation.
9. "It's f*cking hard for me to respect you when you let me f*cking cheat on you." - Spencer Matthews. Will they get ill if they swear only once per sentence? This is the crowning glory of reality TV moments that make me want to slam my head into a wall. No, Spencer, why did you do it in the first place? Something has gone wrong when a faithful, stable relationship is the anomaly of a friendship group.

The appropriate reaction to everything Spencer Matthews does.

In the end, call it "scripted reality" all you like, but I'd still "do a Millie Mackintosh" and smack Spencer one if I passed him on the street. Victoria can try to hide behind a mountain of fur (while Francis sits in the corner leering) if she wants, but she can't skip home after the end credits and suddenly claim to be a kind human being. With every passing season, the show reeks more and more of gratuitous spite, misogyny and the message that life is solely about flirting 'n' banter... All set to an increasingly try-hard "indie" soundtrack. Soz, MIC, we've had our glimpse into the lives of the posh, and it's running out of entertainment value.

... Oh, and most of them are from Fulham anyway.

British Summer Hype: Is 10 Degrees Celsius a Nice Day?

We have made it through the winter. Some parts of the country get the message later than others, but it is undoubtedly happening, and rightly so, four months into the year. Wondrous changes are upon us. Miraculously, there is still some light when it hits eight o'clock. You can practically smell the GCSE students' procrastination vibes in the streets as exam season sets in. I have to endure Amanda Holden's voice with the return of Britain's Got Talent.

So now that you can occasionally step outside without a ski jacket, it's not rare to hear "we can't handle hot weather here", or "when it gets above twelve degrees, people act like it's tropical". As we get eased into summer, there seems to be a stream of disgruntled remarks about others' summertime behaviour.

Perhaps there is some truth to their complaints. The climate changes by a few degrees, one day, for an hour, and suddenly clothes are flung off and the entire country is skipping to any green space available with a picnic hamper, a lawn mower trailing behind them and the twinkle of hundreds of ice cream vans, awoken from a long hibernation, in the background. 

FIND ME A PARK

What kind of weather would have us launching ourselves outside for an impromptu sunbathe, frozen drink, or barbecue? Once more, I turned to my trustworthy peers to find out. After asking around a little, Jack, 20, comments that as a British resident, "any temperature above ten degrees is basically a nice day for us" - so I decided that this would be my starting point:

Is ten degrees a nice day? And is a "nice day" enough to whip out sunglasses and infinite amounts of skin?

At first, the bar is set high, and well away from the crazed Briton stereotype: Alistair, 19, says that real hot weather constitutes "sweating without any physical activity". Apparently, ten degrees is only nice for Autumn. 

The next suggested test for true summertime is "if you have a sudden urge to sit in a beer garden, that's your body ... telling you it's barbecue time". Meanwhile, Tallula, 18, claims that ten degrees accompanied by a blue sky would be a "nice day" but definitely not warm enough for a sunbathing attempt.

So far, this all sounds fairly reasonable. I am impressed by their rationality, and am forced to wonder: just who are the eager beavers stripping off at the sight of a gap in the clouds? I feel proud: they're definitely not my friends! So far, there is no need to be shocked.

... Or is there? All of a sudden, I stumble across the aforementioned beavers of eagerness. Beth, 20, says she has been having barbecues all through the winter, and one day in March it was sunny so - brace yourselves - she wore shorts! Other keen beans say they have been sunbathing already this season.

Meanwhile, heated debates begin, as one peer responds: "Ten degrees is f*cking cold, what planet are you people from?", and puts the bar for summertime sadness temperatures at an ambitious twenty degrees, when it becomes "acceptable to get the thighs out". 

Other criteria for summer behaviour include no clouds in the sky ("obviously"), and comfortably sitting outside without a jacket/shirt (actual heat doesn't appear to be essential). Ten minutes has been set as the appropriate test time for this. Eighteen degrees is mentioned a few times as the minimum sunbathing temperature.

Unsurprisingly, I clearly find no absolute answer. There is no agreement. Either way, most people I speak to are happy that warmer days are finally upon us.

And can we really be blamed for getting excited? For a country whose climate changes only from bad to dreadful, we are ridiculously obsessed with the weather. It's our go-to topic of conversation at all times. It's the fail-safe language of our nation, complete with its own colloquialisms (gusty? Brisk? Nippy? ...Tell me those are real words). So I would say it's perfectly reasonable to celebrate the turn of the season, and if this lapses in to going a little overboard at times, so be it. Let your neighbours shirtlessly flip a burger on a BBQ, embrace tripping over the maxi skirts swarming the high street, be patient with your friend who is suddenly prefixing her Starbucks order with "iced". Before you know it, we'll be back in the grey drizzle for another few months. 

... Zac clearly has not witnessed a UK winter.