Never let it be said that I don't listen to me public. All… um… let's see… carry the one… all twelve of you. Below I offer my thoughts regarding Episode 2 of America's Next Top Model (Cycle 10) in two different formats.
The first avoids any language that may be interpreted, even tentatively or with the help of tarot cards or ear-candling, as racist, sexist, homophobic, ismy, schismy, or religiously belligerent.
The second is written as if by a normal human being without their sphincter clenched.
Please choose carefully.
Fourteen humans are compared for aesthetic worth, including tests based on their ability to represent well in digitally-captured images and ambulatory skill. Two humans leave, one of their own volition, one by democratic means. Credits are shown in no particular order.
Nigel Barker is a sexy bitch.
Also, whilst my female parts remain staunchly heterosexual (see: Nigel Barker), my head and heart currently have a monumental girl-crush on Claire. If she had been two years above me in high school, I would have worshipped her, and perhaps tried to have a haircut just like her, but at a crappy local suburban hairdresser, ending up looking like Phil Oakey circa 'Don't You Want Me, Baby'. And she would have sat there in the quad, with her kohl-lined eyes and most probably fingerless mesh gloves, listening to Sigue Sigue Sputnik on her Walkman, sneering at me with disdain except when I smuggled her some cigarettes into the school dance.
· I've long had a theory about people. About fifteen percent of people are arseholes. Being an arsehole has nothing to do with where you work, how tall you are, what you wear, what language you speak, or what you put on your Corn Flakes. Some rich people are arseholes. Some poor people are arseholes. Some people in wheelchairs are arseholes. Even some nuns are arseholes. Bad things happen to both good people and to arseholes. It doesn't make the bad things any less bad, or less important, or less shocking, or less politically relevant. But it also doesn't give you an excuse to keep being an arsehole. Fatima. Talking to you.
· Kimberly leaves because she admits that she's just not interested in fashion. This is like Lucien Freud deciding that he's a bit sick of skin-coloured oil paint, or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like Denise Richards wanting some privacy. Besides, Kimberly wants to rent out her massive forehead for soccer games and helicopter landings, and modelling will just get in the way.
· Anya speaks like she's trying to solve a Rubik's cube with her mouth.
· For this week's photo-shoot, the modules have to dress as homeless people whilst surrounded by actual homeless people who are dressed as models. This script is like an Umberto Eco novel, except STUPID. Tyra comments that the topic of the shoot is one that's close to her heart, as this one time, on The Tyra Banks Show, she dressed up as a homeless person for a day. Today, it seems, The Tyra Banks Show is doing a piece on Women Who Wear Clothes Four Sizes Too Small. It's a human interest story. Sponsored by Steggles.
· The production budget for Cycle 10 has been expanded to include more syllables. Result = Twiggy: out. Paulina Porizkova: in. Jury: out.
· Tyra-Mails these days are read out, in unison, by all the girls as the words crawl past slowly on an illuminated display. Physical equivalent: boring a hole into your frontal lobe with a dead lion.
· Atalya is gone. My care factor is accessible only by tunneling to the Earth's core.
Somebody better murder somebody. I want a refund.