Who has replaced Eastenders with the
pathetic production that tarnishes our television screens? I used to be a fan.
Now, I find it embarrassing to watch a programme that has reached new depths of
TV mediocrity. The once popular soap has become a hybrid of third-rate fantasy
and badly performed farce (pronounced in this case as ‘eff-in-arse).
To spare its blushes, BBC should condense
the weekly episodes into a fifteen minute ‘how not to produce drama’ slot on
any Saturday morning children’s ‘knockabout/slapstick’ show.
Thank goodness, ‘The Clangers’ are making a
comeback.
Apart from amateurish scripts—who writes
this drivel?—and wooden acting from brainwashed actors, the plots bear as much
relevance to reality as the existence of human life on Uranus. The episodes
have become so predictable, the characterisations so inconsistent, the
situations so unreal that Den Watts and Arthur Fowler would be welcome resurrections
to save the soap from its current death-bed.
To uphold its reputation, the BBC must dismiss
the producers, hire a complete new cast and engage writers who live in the real
world. The current players—their careers must be in freefall to appear in such
trash— could find useful commission-based employment as washing machine
salespersons in some place called Albert Square. It is easily recognisable by
its 24/7 market and residents who spend most of their waking hours either in
the bizarrely-run public house—is there no longer a licensed trade advisor to the
programme?—or the ‘caff’ that guarantees you will always meet people you do not
wish to meet.
If I lived in the east end of London, I would be upset
and angry at the BBC’s distorted portrayal of the vibrant community that has
developed there.
