Jerry Springer PPV Review by shoutingatco.ws

Jeremy Kyle is the latest shit-stirring host to have his own talk show in the UK, following in the brave tradition of Trisha (from Trisha) and Vanessa Feltz (from Trisha). There is, of course, an exciting history of talk-shows, going all the way back to the first one, and continuing from there.

The talk-show originated in America, with every bugger and his wife presenting one. Some are big enough to be known by their first name alone: Oprah, Maury and Ricky Lake to name just three. The biggest name of them all is Gerald Norman Springer, better known as Norm Springer.

Short jokes? We are better than that.

Jerry, to give him a nickname, has hosted the Jerry Springer Show for 16 years and over 3,500 episodes of dubious taste. Recent titles include “You Had a Threesome!”, “Threesome Disasters”, “Threesome with Two Sisters”, “I Had Sex with 3 Sisters” and “It’s the Rooster or Me!” Admittedly, it sounds like I made those up. I didn’t.

You can also apply to appear on the show: Do you hate another woman for sleeping with your man? Do you want to confront her on our show? Is a stripper interfering with your relationship? Are you a transsexual with a secret or story to tell a loved one? Etc etc. The show, ever professional, offers a Yahoo! e-mail address for you to get in touch with.

Recently though, for those who can’t get enough of choreographed fighting between strangers pretending to hate each other, Jerry has added a whole new dimension of excitement. And by excitement, we mean nothing of the sort.

The PPV specials are alliterative, awful and allege audacious au naturel arousal. With awful names like “Bare and Bitter Beauties”, and “Cat Fighting Cuties”, you’re promised two things: Nudity, and fighting. And midgets. Naked midgets. And strippers with dodgy boob jobs. And the morbidly obese. Naked. To justify the PPV price, almost everyone winds up naked.

Yeah, the ladies love me. Dawg.

The guests make a token effort to pretend to hate each other. I dunno, “oh, she stole my man and I am SO MAD”, and then the other girl will come out, and the crowd chant “Fight naked! Fight naked!” and then they tear their clothes off and fight. At least, they fight in the run-at-each-other-and-get-one-shot-in-before-security-pull-them-apart way. Then the scrawny, ugly gimp that they’re fighting over wanders out like he’s Hugh Hefner, and gets abused by both girls, the audience and the midget. What other way could there be to resolve domestics?

It’s the side-show parts that round the show off, from members of the audience inexplicably flashing their tits, to test of strength contests (naked), a stripper on a pole (naked), the midget (naked) dominating other girls (naked), and a man called Jimmy, with no legs. A marching band will wander through, a hypnotist will get people to orgasm when they hear a sneeze, and a puppet is fellated by a man in drag.

All this is presided over by Jerry, who retains his awkward dad-at-a-disco stature, but his questions are asked with the same sincerity whether he’s querying the motives of a KKK member or checking on the sexuality of a stripper that’s just kissed her cousin.

It’s this combination of nudity, strangeness and fighting that confuses: Are you supposed to be masturbating over the good bits, while pausing to laugh at the weird bits? Or just play a game of wanking roulette, teasing one out throughout the whole show, before climaxing over Jerry’s earnest Final Thought? “Take care of yourself… and each other” being the cue for a sad discharge.

The crowd are amazing, enthusiastically joining in on any chant from “we love fucking lesbians” to “suck his fucking dick” via “you’re a fucking faggot”. Inclusivity for all. That’s the real message here. It doesn’t matter if you’re fat or thin, tall or a midget, male or female, naked or clothed.

As long as you’re not gay.

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