Plastic fantastic TV is reem-arkably unreal

I’m a reality TV junkie. I love to immerse myself in these plasticine realities, from Mark Wrights’ love triangles to Made in Chelsea’s fashion faux pas: be it tanning, vajazzeling, boob jobs or botox. Come rain or shine, through trials, tribulations and love triangles, yoyo diets, body modifications, and the endless quests for perfection. I’m up for it, leaning into the TV and cheering on these fascinating individuals. I’ve even adopted the speech patterns of these tangerine queens – it’s just so damn Reem.

I realised something was very wrong when I sat through an entire episode of TOWIE in which James Argent underwent a colonic irrigation. Thousands of viewers tuned in to watch a fat man from Essex flush out the contents of his bowels. And I was one of them.

I wondered if this was a bit of knowing self-satire on the part of the producers. A metaphor for the genre of reality TV as a whole perhaps? Because watching reality TV frequently amounts to watching shit flush through a funnel. And now thanks to TOWIE, it isn’t just a metaphor.

The interesting thing about the colonic irrigation saga is how at odds it is with the glamorised and ultra-sexualised version of reality usually presented on shows such as these. Why were they broadcasting such an unglamourous procedure? I suggest it’s got a lot to do with a concept that competes with reality TV alone in terms of its rancid sterility – and this concept is called Erotic Capital.

These shows depend on the Erotic Capital of their main protagonists. And as we all know, capital is convertible – into social capital perhaps, or more importantly, into economic capital. Reality ‘stars’ have played the game very well, capitalising on themselves and cashing in. We all know sex sells, but it’s a singularly materialistic version of sexuality requiring near constant investment in manicures, blow-dries, fake tan and a whole plethora of other beauty fads. Investing like this, these stars have become ultra-human commodities – dazzling temples to consumerism.

The thing about James Argent is that he just hasn’t got a lot of Erotic Capital in the bank, and no amount of vajazzeling is going to change that. Why? Because he’s overweight. And fat people just don’t fit the (TV) bill in terms of Erotic Capital.

Never fear James! The fetid depths of entertainment consumerism know no limits. If you can’t invest in the Erotic, you can always invest in Comedy Capital. This is why the fat people on TOWIE tend to bake cakes, cry, and have colonic irrigation. Because if you plough deep enough, you will find people who want to watch Barbies ‘play’ life and fat people cry. Sick, vacuous people like me.

There is something dehumanising about this grimly addictive form of entertainment; it is hard to remember that underneath the layers of tan these people are real, and easy to forget the narrative is fake. The reality of reality TV is that it isn’t sexy at all; it’s sexist, and sizeist, and a lot of other ists as well. It rejects the real and is dependent on a set of cheap, weak, and offensive stereotypes.

If you look at the front/third page of most tabloids today, you’d be forgiven for thinking this isn’t a parallel universe, but rather a reflection of how we live today. Breast implants are the most popular form of cosmetic surgery in the UK. Jordan is seen as some kind of post-feminist icon. Can you be liberated whilst wearing Louboutins, just as Sex in the City tells us? I’m not convinced.

Why are we subjected to Cheryl Cole incessantly flicking her hair at us? Apparently because we are worth it. This advert doesn’t want us to feel good about ourselves – it wants us to feel bad about not looking like Cheryl Cole. Because that’s what makes us reality TV zombies buy the products. It’s a mixed up message. We are liberated enough to buy hairspray, confident enough to wear stockings, and free to choose our brand of nail polish. That is our prerogative, that is our Erotic Capital. If we are not careful, reality TV might soon just become reality. Or has it already happened?

A hypocrite will always take umbrage from an insupportable moral high ground, but you get the point. Let’s do ourselves a favour and stop condoning this corrosive body commodification and rampant consumerism. Let’s get real and just turn the shit off.