For the last couple of evenings on channel 4 there have been programmes revolving around ‘extraordinary’ children…

Now, before I get into too much detail about the shows, I have to explain how I came to be watching these programmes in the first place. Well, on Monday and yesterday evening, I met my brother and friend respectively at 6pm in two different boozers in South London, and I just so happened, on both occasion, to be back home in time to have a bath and eat before 10pm. The reason I’m explaining this is so I don’t give the impression that I lay about all night watching relatively meaningless, sensationalist documentaries, though in explaining this I’m probably doing the exact opposite that, indeed, I do spend all night laying about watching relatively meaningless, sensationalist documentaries. Well, I don’t. I digress.

The first doc was probably the most harrowing because it was about blind couple and their dozens of kids, two of whom were pre-teen sisters who basically ran the household. Initially, for about 5 minutes, I was warmed to the cockles of my heart as I watched these two brave little girls tackle the endless chore of caring for a load of toddlers and still having to answer to the disabled needs of ma and pa. Ma by the way had a beard, and as the programme continued it became apparent that ma was a bit more than blind, she was a little, er, slow as well. Dad was no rocket scientist either, but over mum, could’ve been.

The house was a tip, the kids slept where they fell and the diet was appalling, an example of this was when one of the girls was sent off to fetch ‘supper’ for the family, fish cakes and chips; she wobbled back on her bicycle laden with fried food, but still had to say thanks to Dad who did nothing more than gather the family round the table. The two babies were helped to eat their chips. Babies. Chips.

The couple, not content with 8 kids they couldn’t care for in any way shape or form, were trying for a 9th (one had already bought the farm at 5, we were treated to the entire family visiting David’s little grave, not quite sure how he died either, mmm). ‘It’s okay,’ they assured the documentary maker, ‘when we get old there will be loads of them to look after us, so the pressure doesn’t fall on one child alone’. In essence the blind couple exploited the shit out of the two oldest girls, who, in turn, hated each other. Great. The little one had even tried to kill herself, much to the amusement of the older one, hilarious. Ma and Pa were vaguely concerned about the suicide attempt, but more concerned with having another kid.

Last nights offing wasn’t in the same league in terms of ‘concern’, well, it was a different sort of concern… children competing in ballroom dancing competitions, little girls dressed to the nines, covered in fake tan and full make up, performing erotic, adult, dance routines in revealing gaudy outfits in front of old men and screeching mothers, largely, single pushy mothers.

The little girls were all teeth and (no) tits and the little boys that partnered them all had an air of Wayne Sleep about them, despite being under 10. It was harrowing stuff. But, again, it was the parents that concerned me the most. Only one of the little girls actually seemed to have a passion for what she did, the rest, one felt, were no more than toys for mum and dad. When their little doll-like pristine charges danced, the parents didn’t seem to derive any sense of pride or joy, instead they aggressively yelled at them from the wings, and when they failed seemed more angry than disappointed for them.

So there you have it, two depressing programmes broadcast on consecutive evenings that I half watched (a bit squiffy) under the guise of ‘extraordinary’ children when it was really about ‘arsehole’ parents.

Worse still, I’ve got the shits today, and I squarely laying the blame at the feet of Channel 4 for upsetting my constitution whilst I ate.