Tales of a City Girl

My name is Florence and I’m a reality TV junkie

Geordie Shore. Made in Chelsea. The Only Way is Essex. Even Ex on the Beach. I can’t help it. I love it. Help me.

I know some of you are going to judge me and get back to your Monday night Newsnight, but I think mindless TV crap is just the best – and you know what, TV is one of those mediums that you don’t have to be all high and mighty about.

Just sit down and pipe down –half of them are on a Monday or Tuesday night, don’t tell me you’re doing something better.

As someone who loves hearing about people’s personal lives (you know, if you’re willing to share and all…), there is something quite addictive about people who are prepared to let you know everything about them for a little air time.

Yeah, I know that half of it is scripted, but they’re still real people, aren’t they (of sorts – some of their fake tans look as if they’ve had a going over with shoe polish and some of the men’s eyebrow game are more frighteningly on point than most women I know) and there’s something I enjoy about watching and hearing about other people’s naughty little proclivities.

From bitching to romance (romance might be a strong word for Geordie Shore, though),there’s nothing the people on this show aren’t willing to share.

They’re like a ridiculous mix of fly-on-the-wall and pantomime, and I for one, am all for it.

Please tell me I’m not alone.

Oh, and for hilarious blog posts on my top guilty pleasure, Made in Chelsea, you have to read this girl.