Since, I'm told, Thursday is the new Friday, I didn't feel so bad about having spent the night in front of the telly. That was until I saw There's Something About Miriam, a reality TV show from the warped minds at Sky that left me feeling a little uneasy to say the least. I will however, for the sake of my good readers, try and say the least on the subject, which tonight in a dramatic final episode was revealed to the contestants competing for the affections of one Central American model, the offer of a yachting trip with aforementioned beauty and £10,000 smackers.
You see, the model was to reveal her secret before the lucky guy set sail for sea with his maiden. Or his master, as it turns out - a penis is that "something about Miriam", if you were wondering, and a season of flirting and making out left the contestants feeling, and quote, "disgusted." The winner turned down the prize, not wanted to be alone with "the shemale" for a week, the "losers" laughed into the end credits and Sky TV execs thought they were onto a ratings winner, having tapped into the reality TV market and given its knickers a twist.
My uneasy feeling was not at Miriam's surprise. She, bossom and all, was lovely, convincingly so, and utterly dignified. My disgust is at the TV executives who were the real stars of their "freak show", a relic from the Victorian era that should have gone with the plague and chimney sweeps. Poor bastards.
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