Teenage boys have evidently made a quantum leap on the evolutionary scale since I was a callow youth. No longer do they shuffle around the shadows in a state of permanent confusion, beset by insecurities, anxieties and awkwardness. Today’s alpha male youth bestrides the globe like a colossus, confidence exuding from his every acne-free pore, the provision of sex and spliff his only concern. At least, this is how teenage boys behave if Skins is to be believed.
Skins peddles teenage wish fulfilment in a fantasy world, populated by a broad spectrum of stereotypical characters - pin-up boy, his gorgeous girlfriend, gay dancer, Muslim mate caught between two cultures, party animal, neurotic girl and, of course, the spod. You know he is a spod because he wears standard issue spod plastic glasses.
Episode one was largely concerned with pin-up boy trying to help spod lose his virginity, and I couldn’t help thinking his time and efforts would have been much better served just taking his mate down to Specsavers.
Skins is basically The Double Deckers with lots of sex and drug references but no bus. The very fact that I can remember The Double Deckers places me at least three decades outside the Skins target audience, and my finding the show’s central characters irritating and obnoxious would doubtless be a source of delight to the producers. It is a show for the youth, and the youth are welcome to it.
Pin-up boy’s loud, bad tempered, foul mouthed, pot-bellied dad, enthusiastically portrayed by Harry Enfield, was the solitary character I found halfway convincing, and only then because it reminded me of me.
Justin Lee Collins’ remit as The Convention Crasher is to explore and infiltrate the weird and wonderful world of the convention enthusiast. His first assignment was the Sunburst Convention in Orlando, Florida, home to the world’s largest and most prestigious showcase for lookalikes and tribute artists.
Lookalikes and tribute acts must be showbusiness’ softest target, so I was pleasantly surprised by the absence of mockery in Collins’ approach. He showed great respect and affection for all the artists he encountered, possibly because he knew he was going to have to go up onstage himself.
But which artist could Collins pay tribute to? The bouffant hair and bushy beard suggested Barry Gibb but the falsetto proved too demanding. Alison Moyet was Collins’ own bizarre suggestion, ultimately rejected not for any reasons of gender confusion but because Moyet’s star no longer shines so brightly in the USA.
Eventually he opted for Tom Jones. A brave choice, given Collins’ total lack of physical resemblance to the Welsh superstar. A black curly wig and a thick coat of fake tan didn’t really improve matters but Collins’ spirited and confident rendition of Delilah was certainly impressive.
Truth be told, Collins’ voice is so good and his personality so endearing that there was never any real danger of public humiliation. But it was good to see that for all his flippancy at the surreal surroundings and the absurdity of his situation, Collins took his actual performance very seriously indeed.
Details
Skins
E4, Thursday, January 25, 10pm
The Convention Crasher
C4, Thursday, January 25, 10pm
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