E4's new structured reality show has a sparky cast that live up to every stereotype – but can it be as good as its name?
Structured reality television is a wonderful thing. It's introduced us to the concept of the vajazzle, and reminded us that posh people can hurt too, between jewellery launches. But The Only Way Is Essex and Made In Chelsea may now find themselves with some competition, thanks to E4's upcoming Desperate Scousewives.
Despite sounding very much like a title in search of a format, the new show promises potential televisual greatness, thanks to its cast of participants, all presumably reared playing with giant hair-rollers and sleeping under cot blankets of woven hair extensions. It's a show constructed from everything the stereotypes bring to mind when you close your eyes and whisper "There's no place like Liverpool": Shiny stilettos, crystal-tipped nails, chiffon baby-doll dresses, slash-necked T shirts, and the "cheeky Scouse wit" pioneered by Joey in Bread.
It's every Scouse cliche you can imagine, as the girls compete to make Ladies' Day at Aintree look like an Amish barn-raising, and the boys tussle over who can dress the most "boss" and be the most cheeky (probably DJ Danny, who claims "my most distinguishing feature is my immaturity"). But while it's easy to play TOWIE snap – Mark and Chris are Amy and Harry, Danny is Arg, "player" Joe McMahon is Mark Wright, while his on-off girlfriend Layla is Lauren Goodger with excess attitude – do we really have the energy for a series showcasing yet more living cartoons?
I believe we do. The first episode is introduced by Jodie, makeup artist extraordinaire, who's just arrived back from London, because "Liverpool is the centre of the universe". Despite the constant references to independence, as in TOWIE, none of the women seem to have heard of feminism. Beauty queen Debbie demonstrates her best "calendar moves" to her little sister, which mostly seem to involve sucking her finger while falling out of her nightie, while Layla begs Joe for commitment – "I blew up the airbed for you, didn't I?" he demands, astonished.
These girls are all from the Elsie Tanner school of life – brassy, ballsy, with hearts like popped balloons, giving their all to snare men who'd rather be on a football pitch with their mates. And despite appearances, there's a youthful sweetness about them all.
But I worry for Desperate Scousewives. It could be too much, too late. The TOWIE cast have become the real celebrities they once aped; we've seen one too many door answered with the words "You'd better come in – we need to talk. We're running out of patience with nightclubs that don't play music. Somehow all the brash self-promotion, the claims of "I'm Barbie meets Christina Aguilera in her heyday" (there was a heyday?); the nightclub scenes where feisty blondes with towering beehives throw champagne over blinking club promoters; the fierce pursuit of looks, fame and cash by way of boutiques and dancefloors that make downtown Vegas seem a bit muted… It's all beginning to feel depressingly familiar. Like a crazy, ageing mate who used to be fun, but who can't accept that everyone else has changed.
But perhaps the Scousewives (and their scusbands) will breathe new, peach-scented life into the format. There's a blogger, a model, "Abby Clancy's cousin", and a psychology student – who should be having a field day. All of them appear to be constructed from offcuts of My Big Fat Gypsy wedding and the Muppets. And it's more than possible that they're about to become our new obsession. Toto, I don't think we're in Widnes any more.
