What with them knowing that I love my football even more than I love lounging around watching telly, when Sabotage Times asked my to run my trained eye over Made In Chelsea, I was intrigued. I half-expected to be perusing a documentary about the youth policy at Stamford Bridge, a show that proves that Roman Abramovich isn’t just about spraying his roubles everywhere in his bid for glory.
Sadly I was barking up the wrong lighthouse – e4’s Made In Chelsea is actually some kind of woozy human wildlife documentary, with the subjects only just about capable of speech, with lots of pauses and looking at stuff while their brains try to keep up with what is going on.
They’re young, they’re monied and they’re as thick as pigshit, the posh equivalent of those Geordie Shore bastards. I’m assuming that they’ve all got butlers to look after them because they seem to struggle with anything that doesn’t involve socialising and trying to cop off with each other.
But like all groups of animals, there’s a hierarchy at work, and Francis is clearly the leader of the pack. He’s the only one who seems to have an actual job – looking at some diamonds in a big office – which means that while the rest of them will bumble their way through life without coming to any real harm, Francis will almost certainly be a cabinet minister sometime before the year 2030.
They seem to struggle with anything that doesn’t involve socialising and trying to cop off with each other.
Not only that, he also revealed last night that he is descended from French knights (on his father’s side, obviously) and comes from a long tradition of chivalry. This nugget of info was dropped shortly after he’d arrived at a restaurant for a date on a skateboard, armed with a rose between his teeth. Unfortunately he came off the skateboard, falling arse over tit across the dining room. Perhaps one of my relatives was there – I come from a long tradition of publicly humiliating posh, smug wankers.
But Made In Chelsea is essentially a soap and there’s a couple of love triangles to capture our imagination. Poor Hugo, with a vague whiff of Freddie Mercury about him and a tendency to wear cricket jumpers in actual public, is struggling to decide between Millie and Rosie. In the end he spurned Millie and chose Rosie, only to find that Rosie isn’t all that arsed about him. That was after she’d done lots of silent staring, like an owl that’s being shown a card trick.
Prior to that, Francis boasted that he’d already ‘been there’ with both Millie AND Rosie. Classic alpha male for you right there. I hope it all works out in the end because Hugo and Rosie are made for each other. By that, I mean I'd like to see both their corpses hurled into the same lime pit.
In the end he spurned Millie and chose Rosie, only to find that Rosie isn’t all that arsed about him. That was after she’d done lots of silent staring, like an owl that’s being shown a card trick.
Elsewhere, there’s 22 year-old Spencer, who looks about 45 and spends so much time running his hand through his lustrous hair, that he could be wired up to a generator and comfortably power a small village school with the energy he expends.
Seeing Spencer for the first time was a let-down for me – I’d mis-heard some of the girls talking about him and thought they’d said ‘Spender’. When he turned out to not be Jimmy Nail’s craggy Geordie detective character, I couldn’t help but feel cheated.
Spencer’s on the brink of sending shockwaves through the Made In Chelsea community – he’s dumped his girlfriend Funda and is now pursuing Caggie instead. Yes, I know that they both sound like characters from a TV show for pre-schoolers but it helps if you put that out of your mind while you’re watching.
In fact the whole thing is like listening to the playground prattle of some 7-year-olds, but out of the mouths of actual humans. Over on Twitter, the perceptive @samcarelse pondered: “How do they differentiate between sexual partners? Do they tap their heads with a fork and see what note it makes?”
Made In Chelsea is basically a soap and if you actually think any of it is real then you probably ought to stick to believing in shite like Britain’s Got Talent and the farcical Cheryl Cole will-she-won’t-she X Factor bullshit that’s filling the papers at the moment.
Oh, apart from Francis that is. When we’re all older, he’ll be the one who scraps the old age pension. Be afraid people, be very afraid....
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