The Top Floor Flat

And so with a shower of shiny confetti and applause, the saga that has been this year’s Britain’s Got Talent has ended. Of course the main news of the night is that Northern Scotland’s musical conundrum, Susan Boyle didn’t take the top prize but was in fact second overall, losing out to one of the two dance troupes, Diversity with saxophonist Julian Smith coming in third.

But enough about what actually happened – more importantly, such an evening highlights the fact that the true difference between the US and Britain lie not in any language, political or cultural dissimilarities but entirely in their television programming. As my flatmate Ann and I commentated the TV event, it quickly became clear that, forget tea parties, revolutions and democracy, when reality TV hit, our two great countries would have broken up anyway.

Now, I realise this show has made its way to America but I’m fairly certain the American version (which I haven’t seen) is no where near as, for lack of a better word, camp. Of course there were the breakout acts (Susan Boyle, Hollie Steel, Julian Smith, etc) that are truly talented but the range and, even more surprisingly, success of some of what would be considered the joke acts in the States was quite impressive. Both Ann and I watched, bemused, the Greek/Irish dancing father and son duo Stavros Flatley (“there must be something in the performance live we can’t see through the TV,” I offered. “Ha! They’re funny to watch,” from Ann). Together were gave our own critiques of 2 Grand, the lovely granddaughter-grandfather pair who were, again, in my opinion not quite finals material (“well, they’re not that bad, people seem to really like them,” was me. “Ha! They’re funny to watch. And don’t realise Simon’s completely taking the piss out of them!” Ann explained). Even singer Shaun Smith, a fairly talented act – but a bit of a poor man’s Kris Allen in my opinion, especially given his song choice – raised some questions as to how he ended up in the finals (“well, he’s not that bad, and he looks a bit like a 30’s gangster, that’s a cool look” was my effort. “Ha! He’s funny to watch, he looks constipated and like a thug.” Thanks Ann).

So, perhaps Americans want acts that they feel fit the bill of real talent, and solid evidence for why it is so as opposed to something that makes us laugh. And that keeps the likes of chubby half-naked men jumping around the stage, or even the horrendous DJ Talent out of the semifinals and finals of our shows. But the differences don’t end there. As soon as the competition ended, it was only an hour wait while votes were called in and tallied before they were announced on live TV – apparently a benefit of living in just one time zone. While we waited, the next topic of discussion was the prize. While I’m sure the 100 grand is certainly the main goal for many of the performers on the show, this part of the prize is very rarely mentioned. Instead, the network ITV has spent the whole season promoting the fact that the winner gets to perform at the Royal Variety Show in front of the Queen. In fact the £100,000 seemed so accessory that it was barely ever mentioned.

Now I’m sorry, but that just seems like a bit of a crap prize. I’m sure her Majesty the Queen is a lovely woman but to be voted the most talented act in Britain and be told that you’re off to perform in a variety show with a lot of other people who were chosen for reasons that had even less to do with talent in front of a Monarch who has to sit through such a show every year seems a bit of a let down. Ann carefully explained to me that this was not, in fact, the case for many of these performers for whom such an opportunity would be akin with say, the world’s biggest Harry Potter fan getting to read some of their fiction to JK Rowling (let’s put this in terms I can understand here).

Alright, so there’s a bit crap talent, a bit crap prize and a bit crap voting. In the US, while calls and votes for these kinds of shows are toll free from landlines and free from cells with free calling or texting, in the UK every single vote costs money, from a relatively inexpensive landline call to text message voting that can cost up to a £1. While this does act as a deterrent from ballot stuffing (no one is going to vote 100+ times if it costs them 40p a pop) it also really discourages casual voting – I never would have considered voting last night although had it been free, I might have given poor little Hollie Steel some support.

In the end, we’ve discovered that Americans take themselves, and their talent competitions, a bit too seriously and perhaps should lighten up while the British, while claiming across national TV that they have talent, might want to consider adding a question mark to the end of the show title.

But as Simon Cowell could tell us, that’s not news to anyone.