Before I lived in a Sky
household, this show was completely out of reach to me, yet I knew straightaway
on its launch in 2011 that I would love it.
A UK version of Jersey
Shore that had out-blowjobbed its predecessor by episode one. These were young people who went out, and I
was a young person who went out. I
finally found myself with access to MTV in
2013 and quickly caught up on old series while devouring the new one. The cast were like better versions of me – in
better shape, wearing better clothes, followed by a film crew (while nobody is
interested in what I do). The drama, the
relationships, the epic nights out: its scandal was surpassed only by its
entertainment factor.
As series 15 airs (despite multiple locations and switch ups
to keep things fresh), I think I am slowly falling out of love with Geordie Shore.
It now seems so cyclical and repetitive that its charms are
no longer working for me. Each episode
and series are made up of concentric plot circles that go along the following
lines:
1. Everyone gets
excited about getting drunk, drinks drinks to get drunk, is drunk, drinks more
drinks, is too drunk, loses all inhibitions to the extent that they ruin the
night, wakes up the next day with remorse
2. Everyone gets
excited about going out, the girls spend ages doing eye make-up and making sure
every part of their body is ready, often sitting cross-legged on the floor in
front of mirrors to do this, emerging from a room that is an absolute bombsite
looking pneumatically put together for the sole purpose of partying, the boys
iron a t shirt and pop on some concealer, everyone has some pre-drinks
downstairs in that weird house, everyone cheerses, Gary says get in the two
minivans that have come to fetch them, they walk into their VIP area in the
club and if you look carefully at the people in the background you can see the
pure hatred/envy on their faces, rapidly edited shots show silly dancing and
drink downing accompanied by housemate voiceover describing the drinks as
‘flowing’, the tunes as ‘banging’ and the whole night as being ‘great’. Once things have gone too far, it’s Gary
again who rounds them up and back into the minivans (the fact they don’t always
vomit on the way home still baffles me – this actually only happens
occasionally), before they are filmed jumping out of the minivans and storming
into the house, with some of the girls weeing outside. Of course.
Then the group devours all sorts of takeaway (I have no idea who
supplies this to them but a full feast always seems to be waiting), throws some
of the takeaway at each other and then starts drifting off to bed, subject to
whichever argument has broken out.
Invariably, some attempt sexual intercourse which either fails due to
drunkenness, vomiting or arguments, or succeeds, leading to footage of duvet
twitching that is about as erotic as someone inserting their index finger into
the other hand’s curled finger as part of the international symbol of shagging
3. Boy meets
girl. Boy wants to sleep with girl. Boy pursues aggressive policy of being
flirty with girl. Girl convinces self
that she quite likes boy. Boy is clear
to girl that this is nothing serious.
Girl convinces self that she is fine just to be casual with boy. Boy seals deal with girl. Girl continues to tell herself that she is
fine with this being a casual arrangement, as that’s what boy wants, after all.
Boy tashes on with another woman while
out with girl. Girl goes mental and
realises she has caught feelings for boy.
Boy continues to mug girl off with cruel emotional manipulation until,
three to four series later, girl has stopped hurting and only occasionally
cries when boy flirts with other girls in front of her
4. Cast member
has incredible underlying rage issue that bubbles away unnoticed until an accumulation
of any of the above triggers a huge outburst that results either in damage to
private property (punched taxi window, kicked-in household phonebox door etc)
or damage to other cast member
At the heart of the narrative tension for many series was
the love story between Gary and Charlotte (see point
3 above). Along with Tim and Dawn in The
Office, I believe this is one of only two accurate portrayals on TV of real-life
love. Somehow meant for each other,
their courtship was a series of missed opportunities and stung emotions. But, when together, their chemistry shone
through. When Charlotte stayed at Gary’s
one series and surprised herself with a fart during sex, she then laughed so
hard so wet herself. Throughout, all
Gary could do was laugh too. This is
what I think true love is: being charmed by another’s (lack of control over
their) bodily functions.
In fact, it’s the adjustments to the cast that have altered
the show’s structure. Geordies come and
go, but Gary seems to be there for life (129 episodes and counting). But because the show is filmed in advance, it
feels like it’s not keeping up with the instant nature of celebrity that social
media enables in this day and age.
Relationships portrayed in the show are known to be over by the time it
airs. And when cast members are axed due
to bad behaviour, there is only rumour as to what they have done, rather than a
full explanation which makes an example of them to the impressionable young
viewers this is aimed at. Questions
abound: why don’t they have mobiles?
What’s the deal with pretending they are working for a business? In fact, who is Anna and why on earth would
she still take part? Why aren’t there
enough bedrooms? Do they clean their
teeth after eating takeaway before going to bed? What’s happened to Now magazine, as they
seemed to be involved in the early series, didn’t they?
Anyway, there’s something about these Geordie gasbags I can’t
get enough of. I can't wait for the carnage each time we roll their
intros in the opening credits, which often cause me the following thoughts:
Sophie: “I could talk the back legs off a donkey.”
I don’t know what’s worse: the fact she has been given this
to say, or that she is performing some 70s disco move while doing it. Either way, I love her, and getting shoved
out of the way by her in the VIP section of the Isle of MTV in Malta this year was a
highlight of my pointless life.
Chloe: “I’m totally crackers me, like.”
This is a very accurate description of everything about
Chloe.
Gary: “I [pause] should have a degree [pause] in pulling
women.”
He should be chancellor of the university of pulling women,
saddling young people with a lifetime of crippling student debt just for
wanting to learn how to tash on.
Holly: “I’m fit, I’m flirty and I’ve got double FFs.”
I’m sure the producers have had nightmares trying to match
Holly’s varying hair colours to the opening credits over the years.
James: “The hardest graft I’ve ever done is doing me hair.”
Such a lad thing to say.
James left the show a few seasons back after a very good run. Like me, he got bored of the repetition and
grew up a bit.
Now I’m no longer a young person who goes out, but an older
person who barely drinks and can’t stay up past 10pm, my interaction with
Geordie Shore’s drunken scenes has altered.
From identifying with them, I moved to a phase of living vicariously
through them. I could bask in the
camaraderie offered by the fallout of a big night going out out. But now I am in a phase where it appals
me. It’s not the behaviour, it’s the
repetition. A new bunch of girls are
getting themselves mugged off. A new
bunch of boys are mugging them off. And
I’m wasting an hour a week mugging myself off by continuing to watch it. And yet, I cannot stop.
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