Bored? Lonely? Suicidal?
We are. That’s why we watch this shite.
Gary & Charlotte. Mo money, mo root vegetable based problems.
It’s hard to imagine a world without Jersey Shore. Once heralded as an exciting new nadir in television, it’s stars have partied, tanned, shagged and punched their way to global stardom and this, the sixth season, will be the last. How the drunken adventures of eight East Coast Italian Americans captured the zeitgeist quite so effectively remains a question for cultural observers of the future to ponder, but the overwhelming numbers of people tuning in to see whether Sammi and Raw-nee are fighting or fornicating, Pauly D’s hair in a state of partial collapse or Deena faceplanting anything in her path convinced MTV executives that there was money in them thar spills, and they promptly commissioned an English version.
The fourth series proper of Geordie Shore began on Tuesday and its meteoric (if equally inexplicable) rise to global significance has ensured that the money once siphoned off into a account specifically to cover the US tanning tax is now being spent on posh new cameras, hairdos, t-shirt sponsorship and tickets to the MTV EMA’s in Frankfurt. We were scared that all this investment would alter the essential dynamic of the show, but if Episode One is any indication, these people are impervious to the behavioral changes usually observed in closely monitored creatures and a few cosmetic improvements aside, things remained comfortably within our expectations.
Poor soul. he has neither the intellect or the emotional maturity to untangle the complex threads of emotion tying him to Charlotte.
A continuing denial of the bleedin’ obvious is the first signal that all is well at the Geordie Shore house. Charlotte-Letitia is still insisting she is not in love with Gary, but this time she has a boyfriend to prove it. What happens to this forlorn, obviously baffled creature after he wordlessly carries her overstuffed suitcases down the stairs of her parents house is not shared with us, but the impact of his existence upon Gary’s psyche is plain for all to see. Within a couple of hours of the welcome party kicking off, our the Parsnip warrior is punching a new cast member in the throat for having the temerity to not want to bang his on again, off again love.
Meanwhile, Holly is no longer in love with James (she is), James will definitely not be shagging Holly by accident again (he will) and Ricci and Vicki have an exciting new Range Rover. Jay and Rebecca, who were both released back into the community after Cancun, have been replaced by Dan & Scott. It’s a little early to say how these two are going to pan out, but since the former has already fallen out with the King of Shaggers and the latter had welcome camel sex with Holly in the toilet at the same party, it’s safe to say their arrival is not going to knock this comet off its predicted course quite yet.
Let’s be honest, it could have been a damn sight worse.
There is so much more. But we will leave news of Vicky asking Holly, Sophie and Charlotte, (or Dopey, Slutty & Vulgar as she calls them) to be her bridesmaids and the realisation that there’s no end to Charlotte’s talents, which this week included street improv and an uncannnily good horseracing commentary, for another installment.
Like Charlotte, we occasionally suffer from the occasional bout of incontinence. We wouldn’t want to get too excited and wee at an inappropriate moment, would we?