Hotter Than My Daughter by Nick Bryans

BBC3 is really the forgotten relative of shite TV. When people talk about TV stations where the output is unfiltered dross, they’ll roll off the usual networks like Living TV, Bravo, Sky News etc, but BBC3 is often forgotten, despite its relentless commitment to providing TV of such a low grade that it would make Endemol think ‘You know what? Bit crude. We’re more respectable’. BBC3 seems to mainly exist now to keep the countless members of Atomic Kitten employed, and current show ‘Hotter Than My Daughter’ (which I should add, is on its second series) is no exception.

'Yeah I know. I know we did this. It's just that, I think 'Snog, Marry, Avoid' is beneath us.'

The basic plot is this; mums are dressing too young, daughters are dressing too shit. They get a makeover, families are saved. It’s essentially a chance to watch a throng of mid-40-somethings slut it up for 30 minutes. Sorry, what sexual deviants out there are that desperate for a wank?

The first gruesome twosome is 46 year old Tracy and 26 year old daughter, Layla. Tracy says Lady Gaga is her style icon, which is fitting, considering Tracy look a bit like a transvestite from the right angle. Most of Tracy’s dresses are either corsets or sparkly numbers, except one lovely garment which makes her look like she’s off to a pagan ritual hosted by G-A-Y. Daughter Layla is 26 but dresses like a 15 year old sk8er (that’s how the kids spell it… apparently). Layla has two kids and fell into the trap that a lot of parents do of putting all her effort into her children’s upbringing, rather than her choice of eyeliner. Pfft, silly sod.

To judge their current look and give them a makeover, they rope together some of ‘Wolverhampton’s most stylish people’. It’s the usual rabble of ‘style experts’; couple of trendy girls with obscene haircuts and a homosexual gentleman in an ill-fitting suit. Because, you know, people who can’t dress themselves and people who can’t get a haircut without re-mortgaging their house are the epitome of style.

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

The basic summary is that one is frumpy, one is mutton dressed as lamb. Or to be more exact, mother Tracy is ‘dressed like a stripper’, while daughter Layla looks like a ‘little boy gone wrong’. Both are unhappy with the jury’s verdict, Layla wailing ‘I don’t look like a boy, and mum doesn’t look like a stripper’. Err, she does. And, erm, you do. Sorry.

Host – let’s just call her ‘blond scouse lady from non-descript pop band’ – delves deep into why Layla wears these ‘trainer’ things. Turns out she was bullied at 14, which made her personality quite introverted. See, with these things there is always a sob story. It can’t just be that she finds jeans comfy or something. It always has to be some drawn-out story like ‘well my dad was strangled by a burgler with an Alexander McQueen ball-gown, and my mum got her head caved in with a Jimmy Choo stiletto, so since then I’ve always worn hoodies’.

Anyway, it’s makeover time and the women each get a haircut from the doppelgänger of mid 90s Columbian footballer Carlos Valderamma. Which is interesting for fans of the 1994 Columbian football team. The makeover happens and Layla gets the usual Toni and Guy/Topshop look that every other girl on your average high street has. Anyway she’s well happy, so starts crying, as you have to give the Beeb their money shot.

‘All we’ve done is given you a haircut, a nice dress and put some makeup on you!’

What a fantastic use of licence-payer’s money. I feel a bit Daily Mail all of a sudden.

'I had to cut Prince Charles's hair the other day' 'Did you have a permit, Carlos?' ' No, just took a bit off the sides'.

Couple Two! And we’re off to Preston, the home of fashion! (Not really, that was sarcasm.) Mother Tracy is worried that daughter Paris

dresses too risqué for fifteen. This is slightly hypocritical when the mum’s dress sense can be best summarised as ‘tits = out’.

‘All the lads I know say she’s a MILF’.

Fifteen-year-old boys in ‘wanting to have sex with anything with a pulse’ shocker.

Tracy isn’t happy with Paris’ dresses sense, wanting her to dress ‘younger’. Paris takes the ‘Swiss Cheese’ approach to dressing; skin tight outfit, with arbitrary holes showing skin (that metaphor doesn’t really work, does it?). Tracey claims that her dress sense has caused problems before.

We were on holiday in France and two guys were looking at Paris. I went over and said “Piss off! She’s only Thirteen!” And after I left the cheeky bugger started looking again! Hahaha!

Ahh, paedophiles. Up to their usual brand of whimsical japery. When will they learn?

The Preston judges’ panel looks just like the cast of Glee. They claim that Paris ‘looks like a stripper’ and Tracy is ‘too much boobs’. Wordsmiths, I think you’ll agree.

Cheeky Bugger

Makeover number two is on the horizon and Paris is going to be made to look younger, while Tracy is going to be made to look older. CONTAIN YOUR EXCITEMENT PEOPLE! It’s the same shit again for Tracy; haircut, make up, whip round the bargain bin at River Island. Paris is next for her makeover and, Christ on a bike, they make her look abso-fucking-lutely terrible. She looks like a Cabbage Patch doll in an ill-fitting wig.

‘I’m gobsmacked, I look completely different!’

You look like Robert Smith in a dress, love. I should hope so too.

So, what I’ve learnt from tonight’s show is that if you want to make people look older, you have to get them more mature clothing and makeup, and if you want to make them look younger, you have to give them more of a youthful look.

I’ve sent my findings to NASA.

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