It's taken me about a week and a half since the end of university spring term to get back into the swing of being at home. There are certain things I have to accept being at home: Dad running around the house like the clean up crew from Changing Rooms; Mum worrying constantly and asking if I still 'like being home' in a manner that would drive a parrot mad; and my little (I say little, the boy is basically the same size of me, if not taller) eyeing up any new clothes I buy to see if they match with any of his outfits in his own clothes emporium. You know, sorts of things I don't have to worry about when I'm at uni.
But there is one little tradition when I'm at home that I do enjoy. Dinner in the May household is normally served up at around 6.45/7ish, regardless of whats being served up. And if you are aware of the BBC1 schedule at this time, you'll know that come 7pm, The One Show starts. As Danny, mummy, daddy and brother May tuck into their evening meals, for most nights of the week our evening meal's atmosphere is provided by the BBC's flagship variety show.
During the Chiles and Bleakley years things were good. Say what you will about the Brummie frog-who-never-got-kissed-and-turned-into-a-handsome-prince, I think he's a fantastic presenter. He's got an eye for a joke and his laid-back style suited the programme perfectly. His relationship with Bleakley was one of the real draws of the programme, with conversation zipping back and forth, something that hasn't been replicated on Daybreak. Maybe they're still asleep, who knows.
Then the whole salary-gate saga went on and Chiles n' Bleakley must have had similar thoughts to those who give up their regular jobs to become postmen: 'why not start the day at 3am, finish at 9am and that way, we've got the rest of the day off!' Greedy semi-nocturnal bastards.
Great, she's got freckles too. Another thing she's ruined for me.
So then the producers cast comedian Jason Manford and relative unknown Alex Jones. Naturally the paps went berserk over the 'uncanny' resemblance between Jones and Bleakley, although as far as I was concerned the only similarity they had was they were both smiling in the pictures, meaning The Sun would probably be able to find a similarity between me and a half-eaten Jaffa Cake.
Unfortunately these two were more awkward than a high school first date when the rest of the football team is sat two rows back in the cinema. Such a lack of spark hasn't been seen in Britain since Guy Fawkes' gunpowder plot and the whole thing looked like it might end up in the BBC's waste bin alongside Top of the Pops and Richard Bacon's career. So, Manford hit the ejector seat in the plummeting plane, using every trouble maker's favourite toy Twitter to land himself in a smouldering pile of Daily Mail-loving sleaze and was probably quite relieved when he found himself booted off the show.
Leaving Alex Jones.
I've given her a chance. She started in September, it's now mid April, and still, she refuses to let loose. She's tighter than a nun's legs and probably about as funny as a pair too. She seems far more interested in the autocue than natural conversation, killing every joke stone dead just so the half-baked package on pigeon flying patterns goes out on schedule.
She's completely thick as well. Judging by the fact the BBC held 'rigorous auditions' to cast her, the competition must've consisted of a kid with Downs Syndrome and Abi Titmuss. Unfortunately my memory is a bit off so I can't remember some of the clangers she's dropped on air, but her lack of intelligence means The One Show's overall IQ is dropping to the dangerously low level set by The Only Way is Essex.
I'm aware that Christine Bleakley had a regional accent, but it was a bearable accent. Beneath all the IRA nonsense, you could understand what she was saying despite the hefty Northern Irish twinge. But Jones' accent is...well its pretty damn strong. I've had several P.E teachers who are so Welsh I'm surprised their bones aren't made out of the rocks that line the valleys, but their accent was barely audible in comparison to hers. I sit there wondering if the programme should be on that silly S4C channel (the one thats all in Welsh and it costs like £20million a day to run or something extortionate like that), because I cannot understand a bloody word the woman is saying.
For the love of God BBC, its time to draw the line on your diversity policy of hiring unknowns from towns where TV hasn't even been invented yet. Because, I cannot keep watching my beloved One Show while there is an unfunny, stupid incomprehensible Welsh muppet sat on the sofa rattling through the script without a care for presentation.
TV presenting is like shearing a sheep (I'm gonna try and make this work). Take your time and allow it to occur naturally and you get a tidy looking animal. Rush through it and you risk chopping the balls off. Please don't let this woman chop the balls off, my dinner times won't ever be the same.
(Yep, I think I got away with that one)
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