So lately on Saturday nights, we’ve been watching this television show called Britain’s Got Talent. It’s kind of like America’s Got Talent, only different.
For one, the judges are different (except for Piers), and for another, the British audiences display their displeasure by energetically chanting “Off off off off!” at the slightest provocation.
The primary difference, though, is that while the American winner gets $1,000,000, the British winner gets £100,000 and a spot in the Royal Variety Performance, essentially a charity talent show for the benefit of elderly or otherwise infirm members of the entertainment industry. And attended by the Royal Family.
So might I suggest that we condense the judging criteria down to one simple question:
Does the Queen need to see this?
This way we can go ahead and preemptively deny entry to, among others, the guy dressed as a belly dancer who inserts his finger into his belly button and then licks it off. An exclusion from which we all would categorically benefit, even those of us who are not British, octogenarian, or presumably the most proper person alive.
