Reality Matters_ 19 Writers Come Clean About the Shows We Can't Stop Watching - Anna David [22]
The trouble was, I didn’t know if I’d have the guts to do this—not least because it would involve wriggling out of my tracksuit bottoms, which would still be superglued to my seat. A few yards behind the Oxford and Cambridge boats would be a huge flotilla of vessels containing race officials, interested parties, spectators, and, of course, numerous BBC camera crews. Even if I managed not to be hit by one of them, I would then be faced with the problem of how to get out of the water in under four minutes while simultaneously avoiding being filmed on the riverbank in my tighty-whities.
The hardest thing about being in a reality show, I discovered, is not to appear too self-conscious. At some point in their lives, nearly everyone has labored under the impression that they’re starring in their own private movie—and when you’re in a reality show that illusion turns out to be true. Your every move is being watched. There are secret cameras concealed in that tree. The standard advice is Just be yourself, but it’s extremely hard to relax and act normally when you’re concentrating so hard on not picking your nose or scratching your balls. Appearing in The Other Boat Race was less like the fulfilment of a lifelong ambition than an extremely demanding eight-week test. For perhaps the first time in my life, I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.
In the event, I managed to hold my own in the boat and—miracle of miracles—the Oxford team won. In fairness to the Cambridge team, this wasn’t because we were better rowers than they. Rather, it was because Tim Foster had the good sense to tape up the sides of our boat so water couldn’t get in. The race took place on a typically blustery winter’s day and the upshot was that the Cambridge boat took on several gallons of water as it inched along the Thames, giving the crew a huge weight disadvantage. Still, we didn’t know this at the time and winning felt incredibly good. As we passed the finish line I could hear the sound of the BBC commentator’s voice over the public address system: “…and here comes Gandalf, coxing his hobbits to victory.”
My anxiety about the effect that appearing in The Other Boat Race would have on my career—would I become a D-list celebrity, only to be tossed to the tabloid wolves?—proved laughably unfounded. It was broadcast on BBC3, not one of the major channels, and was watched by so few people that it scored a zero rating. The only person who saw it, apparently, was Sam Wollaston, the Guardian’s TV critic. “I’m sure for the people taking part it’s quite good fun, and all sorts of personal goals are being achieved,” he wrote. “But, like the real boat race, it’s not one to watch. A load of rowlocks in fact.”
6
THE BITING HAND
Will Leitch
CESAR MILLAN, the eponymous Dog Whisperer, has a technique he uses to keep unruly dogs in line on his show. He calls it “curbing aggression,” but to me it just looks like a neat trick. When a dog is attacking, about to attack, or generally doing something he’s not supposed to, Millan will grab the dog on the shoulder and squeeze while making a little tsst sound. As Malcolm Gladwell observed in The New Yorker, Millan calls this gesture a bite. “My hand is the mouth,” he told Gladwell. “My fingers are the teeth.” Without fail, it calms the dog immediately. According to Millan, he’s making sure the dog falls into a “submissive position.”
In the land of the Dog Whisperer, there’s no problem in the world that isn’t caused by insecurity, discomfort, and alpha male territorialism. And there’s no problem that can’t be solved by a calm setting of boundaries, by informing the offender just who is in charge. Cesar Millan is a problem-solver. Cesar Millan brings order to chaos. Cesar Millan can save families by making them his own.
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