Losing.

I have tried my best to like Winners & Losers. I watch it every week unless I have something else scheduled, like a family dinner or a knee reconstruction, both of which, coincidentally, are about as painful and entertaining as if I was watching the show itself. I keep thinking it will miraculously get better, that one week I will be watching and rather than cringing at the terrible dialogue and terrible acting, I will find myself so immersed in the stories I will forget I once wanted to gouge my eyes out to transfer the pain for a few moments saving grace.

Let’s discuss the title of the program. Winners & Losers implies there will be a) winners and b) losers in the program. So far as I can tell, the only winning happened in episode one where four girls who were allegedly losers at school (Who am I kidding? There’s no allegedly about it.) reunited and won the lottery. A shakier premise for a television show I am yet to encounter*. There has been, however, no shortage of losing. For season two I am suggesting a re-launch, with the new title Bogans & Posers, to give viewers a correct insight to what they are about to watch.

What follows is correspondence with my close friend and fellow W&L watcher, Winifred Wolsley**, as we dissect (read: hang shit on) the show each Tuesday evening.

The above exchange relates to the episode where Frances is dating her business partner’s dad, and is a pitiful attempt at the concept of a ‘sugar daddy’. It was also the rather disturbing episode in which Jenny had sex with a gay man. Disturbing not because he was gay, but rather because we had to see them cuddling after the deed. There are some things that cannot be unseen and this image has been burned to my retinas. I tried to wash my eyes out but the soap just made them red and itchy.

Jenny finds out her boyfriend also likes boys and I correctly predict, long before it happens, Bec and Doug will get together. Hate for Matt was strong early on, and hasn’t much changed.

Winifred acknowledges my psychic abilities, and while we thought Matt was out of the show for good, he and his bug eyes have continued to pop up and harass one of the principal members of the cast.

With insights like this, I cannot believe I am not being paid to be a television critic. Luckily in this episode Win and I were distracted from VG’s small mouth by the appearance of ex-Australian Idol contestant Millsy. You know your show’s kicking goals when it employs a former Big Brother contestant and a washed up Aus Idol eliminee. Straight through the big white posts. Jenny and Millsy (can’t remember his characters name) proceeded to get blind drunk and slobber all over each other in public. As you can tell by the final message in this image, it wasn’t attractive. I stand by the observation Jenny is as ‘perceptive as a slab of concrete’. This became even more evident after it took her several hangovers and hundreds, if not thousands of dollars for her to realise Millsy and co were only hanging out with her for her money. Cringe.

Every week, Win says she is done with this show and will not watch. But like a fat kid with ice-cream, she keeps coming back for more.

Here, the main characters become so boring I become more interested in the peripheral action, looking for a reason to stay tuned in. Win makes a valid point re the age of the girls, and echoes my opinion re Jenny being as perceptive as a brick.

Jenny’s mum worries if she doesn’t get the roast on in time, people will think something is suss. Thanks to W&L, if my Mum invites me around to have a roast and it isn’t on the table at 6pm on the dot I’ll know she has breast cancer. Ironing not done? Breast cancer. Floors not mopped, dishes not done? ALL SIGNS POINT TO BREAST CANCER! Such is the picture they have painted of her being a good suburban housewife and mother, should she slip up the shit will hit the fan. Win points this out, while I point out the lameness of the show. I then realise how lame I am by continuing to watch it hoping it will get better. I need to accept it for what it is, and enjoy the joke every week. But I will continue being lame for the time being.

Ordinarily I would welcome a bit of action on the silver screen. But when the action is about as sexy as a colonoscopy, I can take it or leave it. Also, whatever happened to simply announcing, “I’m pregnant!”? If I ever run in to my family with my husband holding a pregnancy test that I have just peed on, please track me down and slap some sense into me (but be careful not to harm the baby).

The thing is, this show has potential. It’s just backed these characters into a corner so far they have become such stereotypes it is nauseating, mainly because it appears to be taking itself so seriously. If it was meant to be a big fat joke and the stereotyping was part of it ala Arrested Development or Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace, I would be on board in a big way. Set them free and let them grow, that would be a winning move.

*Probably not true.

**Name has been changed so WW is not shamed in public for openly admitting watching W&L. I have not been spared the same courtesy.

Sadvertising

We are currently being bombarded with one of the worst television commercials to have ever been created. If I say, “Down, down”, I know you instantly know what I’m talking about. As if the first round of Coles ads with giant red hands pointing at the nether-regions of its staff wasn’t bad enough, now they’ve gone and bastardised Petula Clark’s Downtown to the point it’s a badly-sung, cliché-ridden jingle that is splashed across our screens every five minutes in between programming as sacred as Wimbledon and Home & Away.

My main issues with this advertisement are as follows:

• It’s shit.
• No one in it can actually sing.
• It’s shit.
• If I wanted my attention drawn to the crotches of Coles employees I would go back and work there. They are perverted enough to be able to point this out themselves without the help of a big red hand.
• It’s shit.
• Despite the main claim of the ad being ‘prices are down and staying down’, I am yet to see a real difference at the checkout, unless you count not having to enter a pin or sign when paying with credit on a purchase under $35.
• It’s shit.
• No customer ever reacted by throwing their hands in the air and exclaiming with joy when I handed them a receipt. The ad is so far removed from reality it might as well have claimed to see a UFO.
• Did I mention I think it is shit?

Then, just when you thought is wasn’t bad enough, Woolies enters the race with a sing-a-long ad too, making everyday people who supposedly shop with them stop and say “That’s my Woolies” as someone sings the same phrase in the background.

When will this madness stop? Do the bigwigs of these corporations sit around and think we will be impressed by this propaganda? Do they believe we are simple enough to be captivated by second-rate singing and dancing, and will therefore be simple enough to believe they actually care some of us are living paycheck to paycheck and are relying on their prices staying down? And if it really is ‘My Woolies’, why is it when I enter a store I am confronted by a creepy cutout of Margaret Fulton purporting the same sentiment? If something is mine, I want it to be mine and mine only. Is that too much to ask?

Picture, if you will, an episode of Mad Men, in which Don Draper and his band of merry advertising men land the Coles account. Through the haze of smoke and the scent of hard liquor emerges an idea for an ad campaign. Instead of innuendo and double entendres, it is all class. Grocery shopping is the new black. It’s a must-have experience, focused on excellent customer service and impeccably presented fresh produce departments and grocery aisles. It is a pleasure to be in the store, so much so that it doesn’t matter if the prices are down or not, you’re just happy to have the opportunity to access fresh, quality food to nourish your family.

But then Draper has another idea. Based on the ever-present theme of his manhood and conquests, they will run a campaign in which a giant red hand points to genitals and insinuates oral sex. They go with the second idea, which surely people will find funny because humour is an effective way to communicate while also distracting from your shortcomings. Pun intended. I don’t know about you but now I am ready to unload my hard-earned cash without a second thought. Take me to where it all goes down.

“Look for the big red hand Australia”, the lead ‘singer’ implores us as the sun sets on the Coles advertisement. Maybe I will lady. And when I find it, I’ll be using it to give you one big slap across the face.