Talent Needed - Any Will Do!

As I popped down to the communal TV after realising that Kevin Pieterson is leading England to what could well have been a good score, I am annoyed with the Sydenham fellow with the remote who keeps reverting to the Zee Cine Awards or one of those nonsense things.

One particularly annoying bit was when Ian Bell just got out and then Paul Collingwood soon after - setting what was surely an interesting passage of plays as Flintoff and Pieterson came together. Shaun Tait was bowling quick and accurately and McGrath had Gilchrist standing up. But of course, what we all ended up enduring was a series of half-naked 'item girls' (term used out of sheer inability to think of any more suitable term) dancing to some sort of medley.

First problem - I couldn't recognise even one of those women until someone most helpfully pointed out that if stopped chatting with the only other GLC'ite (equally-uninterested fellow) around, I may actually be able to read the names as they pop up on the screen rather than having to resort to the "Abey yaar, ek aur aa gayi? Ab iska naam kya hai?" route to elicit information. I took his advice and decided I would momentarily interrupt my item-girl bashing session to read the names of the frugally dressed women on the TV screen.

Second Problem - Even after reading the names, I found I had never seen or heard the names previously. However, I was quite sure I had seen a couple of their belly-buttons previously - but then they're all so alike, one can hardly tell!

Third Problem - The 'dancing' - if at all what they were doing can be called that - was atrocious. I can pretty confidently wager a Rustom's Ice-Cream that I can do that chest wiggle move better than the lot of them, even if I do lack the basic anatomical apparatus or the ability to wear what I can only describe as follows: 'Gaudy innerwear - probably flaunted by mistake or lack of monetary power of the sponsors to ensure adequate clothes for all the performers'

To be honest, I always disbelieved the fact that these crap 'item-songs' actually ended up selling movies and brought people to come and watch a giant set of half-covered breasts. But then I took a look around myself today and saw at least 50% of the 20 odd chaps in front of the TV intently watching and even complaining when the channel was switched back to the match. The film makers have obviously done their homework...or at some stage lived in a hostel with 300 other 17-22 year olds.

"Need a change
Not to imitate but to irritate all the ones who hate
I may be late, always seem to get the wrong date
But I guess it's fate"

Cemetery by Silverchair