Hello.
You are likely to be unaware of the fact that I have recently been chronicling my umbrage with regards to the surging torrent of sewage being pumped into our eyeballs and our brains by the television box. Well now you are not.
Moving on from Derek Acorah and Alex Conran, next to find himself in my impotent crosshairs is Adam Richman. Do you know who he is? Have you seen Man vs. Food? It’s nauseating.
This may come as a surprise to the more simian amongst you as I understand the show has some quite respectable viewing figures. Regardless of this, it’s shit. I am about to tell you why. This is fair warning if you love the show and don’t want anyone to insult your consumption preferences. If you do decide to read about my opinion and can’t contain your indignation then you can post a little message at the bottom can’t you? Remember to use caps lock.
The general format, for those of you who haven’t borne witness, begins with a paunchy and enthusiastic hobbit named Adam Richman scouring the length and breadth of the land of the free and the home of the brave on a stupefying voyage of rapacious excess. He travels from town to city and back again, visiting all manner of swill stations for gross pigs.
Upon arrival he recounts a brief and implausible history of the area or establishment. I suppose the purpose of this precursor is to create some kind of bogus context to his visit. And to fill four minutes of airtime with cheap stock footage and repetition. Anyway, after dismissing the sweating proprietor, he makes a beeline for the menu board and inevitably finds the obligatory “food challenge” available at this week’s squalid den of iniquity. Usually it consists of several kilos of fried mince, saturated in lard, wrapped in white bread and smothered with enough neon cheese to send the entire French armed forces into eternal rapture.
After a brief interlude of hyperbole and phony anticipation, our kid Adam descends upon said mound of impending arterial sludge and attempts to devour the lot. If he wins he gets a point, if he loses “food” gets a point. The end.
Simple huh? I suppose so. I just don’t get the concept. Or the appeal. Where does it end? It’s not really Man vs. Food is it? It’s Man vs. Man’s Stomach Capacity. I mean, food doesn’t lose. Just give him another plateful, see if he can do two. No? OK food wins. I guess this is a minor issue; I suppose the name is just a shoehorn for marketability. Man vs. His Own Gut Size isn’t as blokey and jocular is it? I’ll accept that the show does have some appeal, made apparent by its ratings and intercontinental broadcast, however I do wonder how much of this discernable consumption consists of spellbound horror. Like when you drive past a motorway accident etc. You know what I’m trying to say. Metaphors are for assholes. I suppose I’m no different. White people have a ghoulish appetite for the bleak. Ironic huh?
