I'll Walk With You

I shall now review every episode of Touched By An Angel, ever.

Touched By An Angel begins with opening credits that include sweeping shots of the Grand Canyon and soaring vocals from Della Reese aka Angel Tess as she sings “Walk With You” with her booming bluesy tones. You might see one or two white doves* here, but wait for them later in the show.

In walks Irish Angel Monica (IAM), who is told by Boss Angel Tess (BAT – infer from this acronym what you will) that she has been assigned to straighten out a wayward human being and show them the right path which inevitably means finding God. She’s like a caseworker, only with an Irish accent and a built-in glow-on-command feature.

These waywards often include: those on their death bed with unresolved family conflict, drunks, drug addicts, men and women unlucky in love, children with no father figures who have resorted to living a life of crime on the streets while their mothers work shift after shift just to keep their ingrate children fed and clothed, strippers/prostitutes, couples having trouble conceiving a child and then when they finally do the baby has Down Syndrome, women being blackmailed by men who have a copy of their sex tape, women who have given their child up for adoption and sex offenders**.

As a rookie caseworker, IAM often has no idea what to do to help these people. She asks BAT what to do and all she says is, “Baby, has God ever let you down before?” It’s that sort of direction I’m lacking in my life. So IAM prays and ends up infiltrating these people’s lives without them asking her any questions whatsoever, other than her name I presume, as she’s always on a first name basis with just about everyone in whatever town she ends up in each episode. It seems to be veritably easy for an angel to get a job, no questions asked. My personal favourite was when IAM got a job as a member of the secret service as casually as if she was changing her underwear. No CV required!

IAM then has to coax the story out of the person she is helping, although she might already know part or all of it. Sometimes she does it with relative ease, and sometimes she doesn’t figure it out at all. It’s all part of the suspense that is built to keep the viewer hooked. And to drag out the message of Redemption via Christianity™ for as long as humanly possible.

You know that shit is about to get real when Death Angel Andrew (DAA) appears, with his long golden locks flowing in the breeze. This means IAM needs to get a wriggle on and convey the message of the big man upstairs because time is about to run out for the person she is trying to help or someone associated closely with them. DAA turns up to help said person to the other side, and also to glance knowingly at BAT whenever IAM asks a stupid question. You see, DAA and BAT have been in the biz for centuries, there ain’t nothing they ain’t seen and there ain’t nothin’ that fazes ‘em. Except if you ask BAT to borrow her shiny red convertible. Then she’ll give you a withering look that will make you want to curl up in the fetal position and suck your thumb all the while thinking of lollipops and rainbows until the storm blows over.

We are getting to my favourite part of the show – the moment IAM (or BAT or DAA for that matter) reveals her true identity, which is always far enough into the episode to have established a story, but long enough before the end of the episode for the person to turn their life around. (It is a shame fonts don’t come with built in accents eg. FullyEarnestica Heavy Northern Irish. But just imagine this one does and activate it now.)

Monica: “I’m an angel Johnny, and God has sent me to tell you that he loves you, and that he’ll always love you, and that he always has loved you. You’ve just forgotten his love and resorted to a life of crime instead of studying to be a doctor like you always wanted to.”

Johnny: “Yeah, right, you’re an angel. And I haven’t shot up heroin for 48 hours.”

Monica: “I’m here to tell you that it’s not too late to change. Put your faith in God and he will repay that faith by curing your drug addiction in the next five minutes.”

Johnny: “Okay, no worries. Nice angelic glow you’ve got going on there too. Very realistic. Okay I’ve found god and I’m cured.”

After the realisation that Monica is in fact an angel (helped along by magnificent lighting above her head) and not a mental case with multiple personality disorder, these people ultimately get their lives back on track (unless DAA is hanging around) and a few white doves fly off into the sunset happy to have diverted another soul to the keeping of the lord.

It never fails to astound me the ease with which these social deviants accept the fact that they are special enough to have received their own angel. That they have been SINGLED OUT BY GOD and are worthy of the presence of all that is good and pure in the world. But hey, maybe it’s just all the crack they’ve been smoking. All along it turns out the Angel Brigade was the figment of a druggie’s imagination the night everyone got just a bit too fucked up. That’s plausible, isn’t it?   

Monica: “I’m an angel, Belinda, and God has sent me here to tell you to stop using bandwidth for such pointless slander. He knows you have wronged and loves you anyway, you just need to put your trust in him and turn off your broadband connection.”

Me: “I’d think I’d rather Andrew be my angel, thanks.”

*There must be a lot of white doves on unemployment benefits since this program stopped filming.

**This last one may or may not have ever been the basis for an episode of Christian Hour, but if anyone needed to find God and get back on the straight and narrow, it be a SO.

Australia's Got Problems

What better way is there to spend part of a Tuesday evening than watching the last ten minutes of a freak show masquerading as a talent show on one of our commercial television networks? I hear you saying, ‘Surely there could be nothing better?’ But friends and foes let me assure you there is. Watching the final ten minutes (which turns out to be more like 15 minutes, as the program runs overtime because of hosts and judges blathering on about themselves as if they had any sort of career* and comparing it to what the contestants will themselves one day be experiencing.**) of Australia’s Got Talent on mute.

I chose to watch only the final ten minutes as anyone who is able to watch the entire program, with sound and without the assistance of hallucinogenic drugs, is clearly made of stronger mettle than I. What follows is what I saw, matched with dialogue I imagined.

First there is the overproduced introduction package for an act that appears to be two dickheads setting themselves on fire. The host introduces them with too much enthusiasm and large hand gestures to make up for size he lacks elsewhere. The act follows, and it is two dickheads setting themselves on fire in between jumping into wheelie bins and climbing ladders. Throughout the performance Kyle looks less unimpressed by Jackass Lite™, but it could be that too much plastic surgery has rendered his face expressionless. He says, “You guys are mental, but can I hire you for the next freaky party I throw with elephants and shit?” Wait, that was his wedding.

The Leprechaun judge holds his head in his hands while The Other Minogue giggles like a schoolgirl and you can tell she has a thing for the bad boys. Meanwhile, Jackass Lite™, are chewing gum in sync and with such vigour perhaps that should have been their act. It certainly takes more talent than sticking your hand in a mousetrap. Which, I might add, ANYONE could do, but rather than it being seen as a talent, most people, if seen willingly proffering a mitt to be attacked by a mousetrap, would promptly be labeled insane and carted off to the asylum. 

There’s an ad break, and the titles of AGT has more sparks going off than a Guy Fawkes celebration. Grant says, “Welcome back to AGT, where we dispel any notion that Australia does in fact have talent.” Up next is a young man who resembles the Paddle Pop Lion (PPL). His intro package shows baby photos and I imagine there’s a hard luck story to go with it. You can tell who the producers want to go further in the competition. Has this guy also been on Australian Idol? He looks familiar, but that’s part of the beauty of the mute button, it keeps the intrigue alive. The most interesting part of this performance is the Oz Lotto numbers popping up. The PPL does that crouchy-riff-jam thing with one of the other guitarists to prove that he is for real, y’all.

I can see this guy’s luxurious mane being pimped by Clairol Herbal Essences in the near future. The PPL does his best to look earnest throughout his performance and the judges appear to be buying what he’s selling.

The Other Minogue: “Who is your hairdresser? I must get her number…”

Kyle: “Not if I beat you to it, I want long, gorgeous locks too!”

Leprechaun: “Something, something, shamrock, potatoes.”

Then, after a few more minutes dissecting the evenings proceedings voting numbers are shown and the little host gives a big wave goodbye. It was only 15 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. And from what I saw, the only thing I think this country has got is a lot of issues. And not in a good way.

*If the judges did have any sort of authentic career, I doubt they would be appearing on AGT.

**Lord help us if the world comes full circle and in 20 years time contestants from a television talent show become judges on a television talent show.***

***Wait a minute, it’s already happened! Guy Sebastian was a judge on X Factor, and he only won Australian Idol 10 years ago. I am surprised the world hasn’t yet imploded.

Disclaimer: If someone asked me to be a judge on AGT, I would probably do it. But only because I would need the money having spent my life’s savings on a rehab program to kick my addiction to watching questionable reality television.

Conversations with the front desk

Take One

The phone rings for a colleague who isn’t sitting at their desk. Someone else in the office answers to stop the intrusive, shrieking ring tone.

“Hello, Sarah’s phone.”

Receptionist: “Sarah’s not there?”

What I say: “No, she’s not.”

What I’d really like to say: “No shit, Sherlock.” 

Or: “Congratulations! You’ve won the competition for stating the bleeding obvious!”

Or: “Yes she is, but we currently have her suspended from her ankles while we cover everything on her desk in post it notes so when we let her down she has a huge mess to clean up. Can you take a message?”

Take Two

The phone rings, interrupting the flow of work and the equilibrium of the room. How dare someone call our office and expect to speak to us?

Once again, Sarah is not at her desk.

“Hello, Sarah’s phone.”

Receptionist: “Sarah’s not there?”

What I say: “Haven’t we just been through this?!” Then: “No, she’s fucking not, can you take a message?”

Receptionist: “Well I’ll just put the call through to you so you can take a message.”

What I say: “But they don’t want to speak to me, they want to speak to Sarah, so why don’t you just take a message and cut out the middle man?”

Receptionist: “But they really want to speak to someone.”

What I say: “They have already spoken to someone, you, so just pick up the line again and say Sarah will call them back once you’ve taken the message.”

Receptionist: “I’ll just put it through to you so you can take a message for her.”

What I say: “Then they will have to explain themselves all over again, after already explaining to you why they are calling, so this seems like a huge waste of time and it’s involving more people than is really necessary. Also, you’re a receptionist, you are employed to answer the phone and take messages so DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!”

Receptionist: “Okay I’ll put him through.”

Take three

The phone rings again, this time it’s my phone and thankfully I am at my desk to answer it thus eliminating the round-and-round conversation about whether the person answering the phone is actually the person they at the front desk intended to ring. Phew.

“Hello?”

Receptionist: “Hi, Warren has just called, he’s seen a whale and would like to know if we’re interested?”

What I would like to say: “Interested in the fact that he is capable of seeing and identifying one of the largest living mammals on earth off the shores of a seaside town where whales are known to migrate each winter? Because that really is a unique and unmatchable gift. I wish my eyesight was that good.”

What I really say: “Tell Warren thanks, but as it’s currently WHALE SEASON we are well aware that several of the majestic creatures are floating in our waters and drawing crowds. In fact, we’ve written several stories about it in previous weeks. Perhaps you could kindly suggest he read the newspaper before calling us with story ideas?”

Receptionist: “So we’re not interested?”