The most extraordinary video ever filmed
Pretty much every single one of the trillion online videos are tagged with the caveat of “You really have to see this!!!” and it usually turns out to be some badly acted viral where someone throws a tantrum and falls headfirst into a waste paper basket, or a distressed looking cat miming to Lady Gaga’s latest single, but I swear, this is the most extraordinary footage that has ever been recorded.
I can’t claim to have found or uploaded it, I just chanced upon it once and immediately watched reality fold in on itself. Lets break this down.
* THE MAN – Bill Roache is one of those ‘actors,’ and you’ll note that I’ve put the word in sarcastic quote marks, who’s been in the same role for so long that you just assume he lives on the set, sleeping on the cold studio floor in his Ken Barlow outfit, with an agent made from some glued together twigs with an orange for a head. The same can be said for Adam Woodyatt, who’s been homeless since 2001 because all of his paychecks and the deeds for his house were in the name of Ian Beale, and when he tried to protest, he was arrested for identity fraud. These days he answers to the name of Ian, just like a dog. Don’t even bother trying to imagine either of these men in another acting role – barring panto – the human mind ain’t made for that, yo.
* THE DANCING – Just look at it. It was someone’s job to put this performance together. There are videos on You’ve Been Framed of clumsy dads unconvincingly tripping face-first into birthday cakes that are better rehearsed than this toot.
* THE RAPPING – “I’m Bill Roache and I love it for sure!” Remember when rap first came about, and TV shows would often have awkward little novelty rap bits that were always structured like poems? “Word up cats and mind the gap, my name’s Cheggers and this is my rap!” Well this is from 1993! Rap is not a new thing here. NWA are already oldschool by this point, and it’s a post-Vanilla Ice landscape that Barlow is dropping his beats in. It’s literally the whitest thing I’ve ever seen, a metaphorical albino bukakke film with all the style and sass of a pair of grey underpants with the voice of Thora Hird.
* THE CLOTHES – Look at what Ken Barlow (for that is his name) is wearing. Appropriate clothing for a dancing rap, no? He probably thought that white shirt was “a bit flashy.” I’m not asking for Flava Flav style viking horns and a diamond studded bollock-ring, but for Christ sake put some effort into it.
* THE APATHY – The weird man who kicks in with the Elvis stuff’s voice is so weak, I suspect it might be coming from Barlow himself in a show of terrible ventriloquism. His level of passion leads me to think he died as soon as the cameras stopped shooting, with the official autopsy reporting that his organs “just couldn’t be arsed.”
* THE SHAME – Barlow’s deep and obvious levels of awkward shame throughout are almost enough to forgive him, almost. Those two women, on the other hand, look remarkably unphased. The blond one nearly loses her top at one point, testament to the overpowering sexual magnetism of Ken Barlow. What becomes of women who partake in such an unbelievably wretched piece of television? As passably attractive as they were in 1993, surely such a horrific two minutes would age you very badly, like those Faces of Meth posters, or pretty porn stars who do a year’s worth of DP shoots and look almost as old as Madonna. By the time they’d got back to the dressing room, they were withered and shrunken, with hooded, bloodshot eyes that had seen sights no mortal should ever have to witness.
In conclusion: I JUST DON’T KNOW
On a different topic, in the last entry, I mentioned that I’d been getting hits from searches for “massive + clitorises.” That blog, like some kind of proof that each generation is more degenerate and sleazy than the one preceding it, is itself getting hits for people searching for big ol’ clits. Presumably this one will continue that chain, like some horrible third-generation sex pest.
They so always say that sex sells, but to be more specific, what sells are enormous clitorises. Clearly the best advertising for the book would be for me to find a clitoris big enough to write http://www.franticplanet.com on in biro, like a disgusting throbbing sandwich board.