What reality TV is really like …
For those who were absent from social media (and with it I mean Twitter and #TeamAspasia) and/or away from their TVs (and with it I mean BBC channel 120) in the last 24 hours, then you missed out on seeing our editor, Aspasia Karras, show off her inner domestic goddess on the local version of BBC’s Come Dine With Me.
I must admit I’ve had a fantasy about being on a reality TV show for the longest time (actually, I only want to see how and if I will be able to survive the elements on Survivor). So, when Aspasia revealed that she was going to be our very own reality TV star, you can imagine the flurry of questions … all, in essence, leading to this one: what is it really like being on reality TV?
Initially Aspasia was tight lipped, but (lucky for us!) she gives a glimpse into the world of reality TV in her ed’s letter in our December issue (for those who haven’t read it, all is revealed below the pic):
I never thought I would do reality TV. I have always believed that any length of time spent in front of the unrelenting eye of the camera will probably result in unwarranted homicidal tendencies. Just look at what a spell on Big Brother did for Bad Brad? But it’s too late for second thoughts now – I have become a player in the game show of life. I have become a ‘diner’.
I am Aspasia Karras and I have survived an episode of BBC’s Come Dine With Me. When asked for my strategy regarding the game, the word that sprang to mind was ‘survival’ – that and a fervid hope I would not recreate the famous scene in one British episode where the lady in the short dress and the crown fell asleep between the presentation of her starter and main course due to an excess of tippling. (I liked the lady with the snake that pooped at the dinner table, though.)
Come Dine With Me is very much like Survivor – while there are no tropical zones to contend with, there is the constant threat of the booze monster, the ongoing pressure cooker, the deeply unflattering presence of the giant pancake light and the malicious presence of the guests. They are not there to convivially spend a few evenings making friends. Oh no. They want the ‘cloche
of cash’ fanned out in a silver dish, presented with alarming fanfare to the winner at the end.
I had to defend my ‘frivolous’ career, cook up a storm and maintain diplomatic relations with a bunch of hard-boiled professionals while managing kitchen confidentials. I am now well-versed in the ways of the reality show. I can hover lusciously in Nigella bounty over a pan, while sharpening my knives. I can smile sweetly at fellow contestants, while plotting their culinary downfall. Not! I realized I am a woosie when it comes to saying awful things about people’s cooking when I’ve just met them.
I also learnt that, while tolerance is not going to win you a cloche of cash, it will expose you to a whole new way of life. Come Dine With Me is like a fascinating sociological experiment in the ways of the South African kitchen and dining room. The experience jolted me out of my comfort zone with all the force of an industrial-strength blender. It was intense – five days of constant scrutiny with a microphone strapped to my leg and my bosom. I am still having dreams that a camera crew is filming my private ablutions. But it was worth it for the insights into homes I would never have had otherwise. And I am sure my homicidal instincts are now entirely under control. Really. I am totally ready for So You Think You Can Dance.
Reality TV – clearly not for the faint hearted.
Would you try it and which show would you want to be in?
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