Showing posts with label But not Ben Shephard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label But not Ben Shephard. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

Daybroken

I've resisted doing this for ages, but restistance is futile where Daybreak is concerned.

You already know my feelings about GMTV, but to honest I miss it compared to this debacle. We already know it's in a parlous state, so it's all academic, but I have some thoughts.

Adrian Chiles and beat-me-on-the-bottom-with-a-Christine Bleakley are plain wrong for mornings. And no one rushes to watch something because a double act who once may have been the subject of tabloid speculation due to the fact that may or may not have been knocking each other off and of course were doing no such thing, are now parking their behinds on a different sofa.

Mrs F-C hates Christine with a passion. She thinks she's vain, stupid and that it should all be about her. Adrian Chiles' role seems to be to make the camera crew laugh, which was fine for 27 minutes on The One Show, but is waring at 7am. You can hear the tubleweed rolling by.

Presenter without portfolio (thought she's ostensibly entertainment) Kate Garraway looks uncomfortable and out of place. She's better than she was but she does ask some dumb questions. Today she enquired of a bunch of closed order nuns in the south of France who've just put out an album of Gregorian chants if they'd ever heard of Cheryl Cole. They looked at her blankly, naturally. She longs to be taken seriously. This won't help.

But she's better than that showbiz plank they've dredged up. The world's worst interviewer and a man without personality or any relevant qualification. The sports dumbell is far more watchable. At least he knows what he's talking about.

The bit at about 7.10 where they all sit round in a circle and talk about the day's news stories is toe-curling, and the whole atmosphere is so dark and gloomy they're all clearly aware of what a mess they're in, but can do little about it.

There's been criticism of the London skyline. Yes it can look a bit grim on rainy days, but the programme comes from London and it is the nation's capital city, like it or not. We'd all be really depressed if it came from Cleethorpes. Everything on the telly seems to be set in Manchester these days, so to see a London programme makes a refreshing change.

The sombre set must go though. Dark purples and mahogany are more likely to soothe you into sleep than perk you up.

I never thought I'd say it: Bring back Fiona Phillips.

Until then I'd rather watch Everybody Loves Raymond for the 50th time.

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