Trinny and Susannah fats your lot

Thought the freak show was a thing of the past? Well check out the programmes that make the overweig

You know how the Americans used to pay money to look at the deformed in circus freak shows? If that appeals to you, try the modern day version.

The utterly loathsome programme Trinny and Susannah undress the nation is another spin on the Gok Wan show how to look good naked. (Notice I'm not linking to either of them).

I'm not sure which came first but basically both have the same purpose - to get women of above average size, already insecure about their bodies, to take off their clothes so we can all sit at home and wonder at their flabby bits.

The Trinny and Susannah programme this week masqueraded as a campaign for better clothing choices for overweight women.

And it's a work of utter manipulation. Put someone in front of a camera for long enough and they'll very quickly forget it's there. Then you flatter, cajole and emotionally blackmail until the victims do just as you bid.

You can see how these people, forgetful of the national exposure they are about to have, will get their kit off in a sort of 'nudge, nudge - I will if you will' kind of a way.

Of course the presenters remain as they are - in the case of Trinny and Susannah: overprivileged, heavily coiffed, fully dressed and diving in only to hilariously grope someone's breasts or coax some tears.

This week they persuaded a group of unfortunate women who couldn't find fashions they liked, because of their shapes, to join them in taking on the high street retailers!

With a mixture of flattery and coersion, they played big on the curious way people are impressed and overawed by others simply because they appear on TV.

And in a grand finale, they had them conveyed on floats through Boston in Lincolnshire - apparently a national fat-spot.

Mind you before we got there they all had to stand around in their underwear for a good while - just so we could fully understand what they were up against.

And thanks to Trinny and Susannah we've learnt not to tease the obese but be lovely to them and put them nearly naked on national TV. How far we've come.

Ben Davies trained as a journalist after taking most of the 1990s off. Prior to joining the New Statesman he spent five years working as a politics reporter for the BBC News website. He lives in North London.
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An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.