“Reality TV to me is the museum of social decay” – Gary Oldman
“Celebrity has lost its value – all you have to do is go on a reality TV show for six weeks and everybody knows your name” – Jonathan Rhys Meyers
“Celebrity culture, it’s everywhere, isn’t it? It’s reality TV, Big Brother. I didn’t become a footballer to be famous; I became a footballer to be successful. I didn’t want to be famous. Now people want to be famous. Why? Why would you want people following you about all day?” – Ryan Giggs
“Reality TV rots people’s brains” – Georgia Jagger
They all giggled and laughed away. I sat on the seat adjoining the aquarium, stone-faced in the living room as I watched their faces. The three girls were munching away from the bowls of popcorns with their eyes fixed on the TV while the other guy in the room also watched the show with keen interest. Sick phucks, I thought to myself. I turned towards the refrigerator and proceeded to grab me a bottle of chilled beer. Chai, so these phucks don’t even have beer at all. Aarrgggghhh! I walked back to the living room and sat down again. And then I waited for a couple of minutes before I finally screamed…
“Can we all leave now”, I shouted. “Nwoke m, calm down joor. Na your way, ancient man! I know it is this show that is making you restless”, the pigeon-faced chick said. OK, fine by me! Anytime they felt like leaving, then we would leave. I brought out my phone and read the Mashable news for the day.
It wasn’t up to 5 minutes later and my inglorious friends, PHCN struck. GRATITUDE! Immediately, they cursed and rained abuses on the company. “It shall not be well with them”, the chubby one said. I smiled gleefully. “These mad men have struck again. Ohhhh, what rubbish is this. And Khloe was about to say I do to Lamar”, the other guy in the room said. I don’t blame him. I only blame his parents that kept giving him breast milk up till the age of four. That is why he could gladly sit down with women and be watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians, when we had an important occasion to attend.
Reality TV has become an integral part of people’s lives. Is it some people or most people? I think I’d have to do a detailed research to find out.
I believe what people find entertaining shouldn’t be an issue; but when such becomes so vital that it erodes other important things in their lives, then it is time to keep that form of entertainment in check. I mean, c’mon, someone wakes up in the morning, get a can of milk and starts beating the tip with a stick while dancing to the tune. Fine and well, that’s entertainment. Or a bunch of rich kids wake up and decide to start a show and all they do in the show is walk around Beverly Hills, go camping, cry at the slightest provocation and curse on their mamas. Fine and well, that’s entertainment. Or Nadia Buhari gangs up with her sisters, brothers and parents to put out a series of video clips about their daily lives. Fine and well, hopefully, they’d land a deal with Sony Entertainment.
And it seems Reality shows are the order of the day; it seems that is the quickest route to becoming a celebrity. So here is my advice to upcoming celebrities or rather, celebrity wannabes. Hope you are all ears? Alright, let the drums roll. Tapatapatapata!
First of all, you gotta talk your family members into starting the show, put some hidden cameras at strategic points in your home, say stupid and dumb stuffs to your folks, and then make sure you curse at your mum’s friends when they come around the house. Just be naughty and that’s OK. And by the way, don’t forget to put a hidden camera in your bedroom o, because having a sex tape is definitely important in the whole plan.
Afterwards, take the video clips to a reputable company like Silverbird and you are off to being a celebrity. Soon, your pictures would grace the covers of cheap soft-sell magazines. You would be invited to Pasuma’s birthday gigs and Chika Ike’s movie premieres. And while attending such events, make sure you wear provocative dresses (you know how Thots and MILFs dress on a daily), long slits on gowns and very high stilettos. And don’t forget to pose in a raunchy and seductive way. This translates to more headlines and interviews with other soft-sell magazines.
Eventually, you’d have to start a twitter war with a well know celebrity. Call Genevieve ugly and Omotola fat. Swear that Funke Akindele is too local and razz, and that both of you have eaten bole ati ewa at Iya Basira’s buka. Claim that your paternal uncle is Dangote and your grandmother’s grand-daughter is Tiwa Savage. And that’s that. You are an overnight celebrity, all thanks to a Reality TV Show.
So here I am, on this cold harmattan morning, thinking of starting my own Reality TV show. I just need three people and that’s it: An old granny in my village (at least 80 years old and she must be a witch), my neighbor’s seventeen year old daughter who sells cashew nuts at the car park and the young chick that runs a brothel down the street. DAMN! Thank Goodness. Soon, we’d be getting ratings and more ratings. And afterwards, we would be…
“O boi, wake up jor. Patient don show”, my colleague said as she tapped my shoulder. I quickly jump off the couch I was sleeping on. Chai, so this was a dream? Mtscheeew!