Geordie Shore

Before I lived in a Sky household, this show was completely out of reach to me, yet I knew straightaway on its launch in 2011 that I would love it.  A UK version of Jersey Shore that had out-blowjobbed its predecessor by episode one.  These were young people who went out, and I was a young person who went out.  I finally found myself with access to MTV in 2013 and quickly caught up on old series while devouring the new one.  The cast were like better versions of me – in better shape, wearing better clothes, followed by a film crew (while nobody is interested in what I do).  The drama, the relationships, the epic nights out: its scandal was surpassed only by its entertainment factor.

As series 15 airs (despite multiple locations and switch ups to keep things fresh), I think I am slowly falling out of love with Geordie Shore.

It now seems so cyclical and repetitive that its charms are no longer working for me.  Each episode and series are made up of concentric plot circles that go along the following lines:

1.       Everyone gets excited about getting drunk, drinks drinks to get drunk, is drunk, drinks more drinks, is too drunk, loses all inhibitions to the extent that they ruin the night, wakes up the next day with remorse

2.       Everyone gets excited about going out, the girls spend ages doing eye make-up and making sure every part of their body is ready, often sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of mirrors to do this, emerging from a room that is an absolute bombsite looking pneumatically put together for the sole purpose of partying, the boys iron a t shirt and pop on some concealer, everyone has some pre-drinks downstairs in that weird house, everyone cheerses, Gary says get in the two minivans that have come to fetch them, they walk into their VIP area in the club and if you look carefully at the people in the background you can see the pure hatred/envy on their faces, rapidly edited shots show silly dancing and drink downing accompanied by housemate voiceover describing the drinks as ‘flowing’, the tunes as ‘banging’ and the whole night as being ‘great’.  Once things have gone too far, it’s Gary again who rounds them up and back into the minivans (the fact they don’t always vomit on the way home still baffles me – this actually only happens occasionally), before they are filmed jumping out of the minivans and storming into the house, with some of the girls weeing outside.  Of course.  Then the group devours all sorts of takeaway (I have no idea who supplies this to them but a full feast always seems to be waiting), throws some of the takeaway at each other and then starts drifting off to bed, subject to whichever argument has broken out.  Invariably, some attempt sexual intercourse which either fails due to drunkenness, vomiting or arguments, or succeeds, leading to footage of duvet twitching that is about as erotic as someone inserting their index finger into the other hand’s curled finger as part of the international symbol of shagging

3.       Boy meets girl.  Boy wants to sleep with girl.  Boy pursues aggressive policy of being flirty with girl.  Girl convinces self that she quite likes boy.  Boy is clear to girl that this is nothing serious.  Girl convinces self that she is fine just to be casual with boy.  Boy seals deal with girl.  Girl continues to tell herself that she is fine with this being a casual arrangement, as that’s what boy wants, after all.  Boy tashes on with another woman while out with girl.  Girl goes mental and realises she has caught feelings for boy.  Boy continues to mug girl off with cruel emotional manipulation until, three to four series later, girl has stopped hurting and only occasionally cries when boy flirts with other girls in front of her

4.       Cast member has incredible underlying rage issue that bubbles away unnoticed until an accumulation of any of the above triggers a huge outburst that results either in damage to private property (punched taxi window, kicked-in household phonebox door etc) or damage to other cast member

At the heart of the narrative tension for many series was the love story between Gary and Charlotte (see point 3 above).  Along with Tim and Dawn in The Office, I believe this is one of only two accurate portrayals on TV of real-life love.  Somehow meant for each other, their courtship was a series of missed opportunities and stung emotions.  But, when together, their chemistry shone through.  When Charlotte stayed at Gary’s one series and surprised herself with a fart during sex, she then laughed so hard so wet herself.  Throughout, all Gary could do was laugh too.  This is what I think true love is: being charmed by another’s (lack of control over their) bodily functions.

In fact, it’s the adjustments to the cast that have altered the show’s structure.  Geordies come and go, but Gary seems to be there for life (129 episodes and counting).  But because the show is filmed in advance, it feels like it’s not keeping up with the instant nature of celebrity that social media enables in this day and age.  Relationships portrayed in the show are known to be over by the time it airs.  And when cast members are axed due to bad behaviour, there is only rumour as to what they have done, rather than a full explanation which makes an example of them to the impressionable young viewers this is aimed at.  Questions abound: why don’t they have mobiles?  What’s the deal with pretending they are working for a business?  In fact, who is Anna and why on earth would she still take part?  Why aren’t there enough bedrooms?  Do they clean their teeth after eating takeaway before going to bed?  What’s happened to Now magazine, as they seemed to be involved in the early series, didn’t they?

Anyway, there’s something about these Geordie gasbags I can’t get enough of.  I can't wait for the carnage each time we roll their intros in the opening credits, which often cause me the following thoughts:

Sophie: “I could talk the back legs off a donkey.”

I don’t know what’s worse: the fact she has been given this to say, or that she is performing some 70s disco move while doing it.  Either way, I love her, and getting shoved out of the way by her in the VIP section of the Isle of MTV in Malta this year was a highlight of my pointless life.

Chloe: “I’m totally crackers me, like.”

This is a very accurate description of everything about Chloe.

Gary: “I [pause] should have a degree [pause] in pulling women.”

He should be chancellor of the university of pulling women, saddling young people with a lifetime of crippling student debt just for wanting to learn how to tash on.

Holly: “I’m fit, I’m flirty and I’ve got double FFs.”

I’m sure the producers have had nightmares trying to match Holly’s varying hair colours to the opening credits over the years.

James: “The hardest graft I’ve ever done is doing me hair.”

Such a lad thing to say.  James left the show a few seasons back after a very good run.  Like me, he got bored of the repetition and grew up a bit.

Now I’m no longer a young person who goes out, but an older person who barely drinks and can’t stay up past 10pm, my interaction with Geordie Shore’s drunken scenes has altered.  From identifying with them, I moved to a phase of living vicariously through them.  I could bask in the camaraderie offered by the fallout of a big night going out out.  But now I am in a phase where it appals me.  It’s not the behaviour, it’s the repetition.  A new bunch of girls are getting themselves mugged off.  A new bunch of boys are mugging them off.  And I’m wasting an hour a week mugging myself off by continuing to watch it.  And yet, I cannot stop.