At Home With The Furys and other shows where twats believe everything they're seeing is true

IF they call it reality TV it must be real otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed, conclude the unintelligent. Which is why they’re fully invested in these obviously scripted shows:

At Home With The Furys

Tyson Fury isn’t just a mountainous thug – he’s a mountainous thug who has a family and mental health. Consequently his Netflix series is full of tear-jerking, relatable moments that are definitely off-the-cuff, and not the result of a cowering director requesting Tyson try that again, maybe with less swearing at his kids. All of whom are called Prince.

Married At First Sight

You can’t fake drama like this. It would have surely been impossible for production to predict that the bloke who came in saying his type is ‘a blonde bombshell’ would cheat on his wife of three weeks with the self-proclaimed blonde bombshell who just arrived at the dinner party. No, you can’t fake it, though you can hide certain legally actionable details.

The Only Way Is Essex

If there’s one characteristic that unites the fake-tanned, fake-nailed, boob-jobbed and Botoxed residents of Essex, it’s keeping it real. None of them can tolerate falsity in any form, which is why its stars would never allow any kind of scriptwriting and come up with every single one of those memorable lines themselves, like vajazzled Oscar Wildes.

(Keeping Up With) The Kardashians

There is no way you could keep a series on air for 18 years, with multiple spin-offs, if it was scripted. Wouldn’t you end up just re-using the same old pregnancy scares, cheating scandals and fish-out-of-water moments, but with different cast members? That’s why everything about the Kardashians must be true to life.

Made in Chelsea

What’s happening between BooBoo and Chumley is absolutely real, so don’t be fooled by their impeccable make-up and the obvious continuity errors. Posh people are just better than you, and that’s why their big, dramatic confrontations always happen while sitting calmly in a well-lit ski chalet and not while horribly geeked in a nightclub toilet.

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'It doesn't actually matter though, does it?': A girlfriend's guide to ruining football

PLANNING to watch England vs Croatia tonight with mates and a not-interested girlfriend? Try to ignore her inadvertently questioning the very foundations of spectator sport: 

‘It doesn’t affect real life though, does it?’

Your girlfriend points out that life will continue as before after any match, which is undeniable. And yet commentators make it sound like a matter of life and death. Could people paid massive salaries to give half-time recaps be exaggerating football’s importance? Well yeah, obviously.

‘It’s just an excuse to get pissed’

Alcohol is a large part of the appeal of football, but what’s the alternative socially acceptable way of drinking heavily? Having your mates round to get shitfaced watching Springwatch, cheering wildly when you see an otter? She wouldn’t like that either.

‘This is boring’

Defensive play, one team unassailably ahead, mindless passing to run the clock down – she’s correct that a lot of football is boring, or in the modern parlance Arsenal. To save face pretend to enjoy the tedious bits by saying: ‘Excellent, a VAR review! Now we can finally uncover the truth!’

‘I bet the players aren’t really bothered’

Just not true. Our players live for football, and who doesn’t still nurse a childhood dream of being an England hero? Although now you think about it, earning tens of millions, being worshipped by fans and shagging attractive women would overshadow occasional tournaments we never win and you’d be deranged to think otherwise.

‘It’s sad it’s the only time men are allowed to cry’

Men crying over football is a bit weird, since there are plenty of situations far worse than getting knocked out at the quarter-finals and all are more unexpected. You’ll be more in touch with your emotions from now on, perhaps having a good sob over a roadkill badger.

‘It’s random which country you’re born in anyway’

This Spock-like logic removes the fun of supporting any team, while being right. You’re rooting for an arbitrary geographic area that may as well be France, Hawaii or Krypton. So now you’ve got the stress of wondering if England will be shit and an existential identity crisis.