As I am sure most of you can imagine, Karl Pilkington’s new television series “The Moaning of Life” is something I find very easy to watch.
In much the same way as I used to nod sagely in agreement with most of the musings of TV’s “Grumpy Old Men”, I find Pilkington’s take on life and all of its various mysterious twists and turns both enlightening and entertaining.
But I found myself, in a rare turn of events for me these days, actually shouting at the television at one point in a recent broadcast.
For those of you unaware of Pilkington or his latest televisual offering, the brief summary of what goes on is this: Pilkington, in the style of a latter day Alan Whicker, travels the world trying to work out the point of what people get up to.
And then moans about it.
I am sure most of his subjects, or victims, would not have so readily agreed to be filmed had they realised the eventual outcome.
But I am equally sure that would not have been the case with all of them.
And now we get to the point of my own moaning at the television.
Pilkington was in America and putting his own unique take on to the mass industry which is plastic surgery and body-sculpting in all its guises.
One of the people interviewed had spent, literally, thousands of dollars in an attempt to create the body beautiful.
To say it had misfired was an understatement.
This American Adonis (not!) had spent his money on muscle implants in his biceps, triceps and deltoids – upper arms and the round bit of the shoulders to you and I – and he looked ridiculous.
So, was I shouting at him that he looked stupid?
No, all I did was point in a bit of weekend Straight Shouting, that he would have been better off, both pysically and financially, had he spent a fraction fo the money going to the gym and earning the muscles his body was meant to carry.
Rant over ... as long as you don’t get me started on how ridiculous the various alterations to his face had made him look in the cold light of day!