Talented Britain

Britain is famous for many things, roast dinners, David Beckham and two very good looking princes. However, none of these are responsible for the millions of British viewers that will be tuning into ITV at half 7 each day this week.

So without any further ado, I give you Britain’s Got Talent (BGT.)

Last night sparked the first of the live semi-finals and like the rest of Britain last night, I took my dinner to the T.V and sat partially ogling the hosts Ant and Dec (which one is which??) and debated with the rest of my household who we thought would go through and who would sulk off stage.

As the show started Piers, Amanda and the worryingly mesmerizing Simon Cowell (and let’s face it he shouldn’t look that good in a suit!) graced our television sets as the decision making judges. They sat down, the audience clapped and the little men with the signs at the front of the stage said ‘silence.’

The acts rolled by, a Bollywood dance group, a little girl who had a voice of an angel and young guy who also had the voice of an angel (is this show X Factor?), a dancer who used a floating ball as a prop, a slightly tangoed cruise ship entertainer, a singing knight chopping wood, a guy who likes to swallow things and a gymnastic group full of topless men.

My money was on the gymnastic group called Spellbound. Yes, nice men jumping around with their six packs on show may have been a deciding element, but their combinations and routine was flawless. So much so that it almost resulted in my housemates and I attempting to pull off some similar moves. Thankfully we decided for the sake of our living room windows it was probably best we did not try and ‘prove’ that we could each do a double round off. Besides, our landlords would probably kill us.

So as it got nearer and nearer to results time and our urges to injure ourselves by getting our feet wrapped around our heads (you laugh now…but you should have seen it!) subsided the suspense grew. Only two of the eight acts could go through to Saturdays live final and I was determined Spellbound had to be one of them.

But why did I choose that exact time to go and whack the kettle on? There was a sudden shriek of excitement from the lounge and like a bullet I ran to room, my love for Spellbound increasing and the fact that they would be great to see perform at the Royal Variety beaming on my face.

However, as things go I probably should have seen the chair, or the flipped over corner of the rug, or the big-fat-slightly less hairy than usual-slug on the floor. Instead I attempted a Linford Christie esc move, caught my foot on the chair, landed head first on the rug, arms in the air and narrowly missed the ultimate squishing of our beloved resident slug.

I had pulled off a spectacular spellbinding fall and Spellbound were through to the final. It was the perfect end to what could have been a disastrous night for women and slug alike.

So tonight when the clock strikes 7:30pm once again I will be in front of the T.V cheering for Britain, along with the rest of the country to discover whether as a nation we have any talent or if we should just stick to making roast dinners.