Does the thought of Saturday evening televison make your blood run cold? Would you rather run a marathon than watch a TV “talent show”? I’m happy to watch “Strictly Come Dancing” in the autumn, but I avoid the rest of it. Talent shows where participants are ridiculed and have ridiculously high expectations do not interest me.
So when the girls wanted to watch The Voice, I grumbled a bit. These things form part of the playground dialogue, so I let them see it while I
looked at the pictures in read the paper. An improving broadsheet, of course.
By the second week I was hooked. Not because of the voices, although some are actually excellent. Not because of Tom Jones; although greatly improved since he stopped dying his hair, he’s still too old for me. Certainly not because of Jessie J, who would be exhausting to be with. The other coach, Danny, hasn’t made much of an impression at all.
Confession time, ladies and gentlemen; I’m hooked because of will.i.am. I am loving him! Some weeks ago, the girls, despairing, had to tell me about The Black Eyed Peas, and Cheryl Cole and Michael Jackson and Justin Beiber and the many, many people wee will has worked with. I’m not sure any of that matters to me. Now, I want a little cuddly will.i.am to put on a shelf.
He’s obviously very experienced, influential and powerful. Also, he’s lovely.
He has his own range of odd little jackets in all the colours. He has an interesting collection of eyewear. He wears sparkly shoes. He has a sense of fun, and the most expressive set of eyebrows on television.
He knows how to challenge the competitors, how to bring out the best in them. What has impressed me most though, is how he treats those who are leaving the show. He always finds the right words to ensure the person is buoyed. There are no stock responses; he’s paid attention to the people, and is not looking for those comments to entertain the masses. He’s a proper mentor.
When my weekly rave about will was already well established, I read this in a magazine; “For his charity i.am Home he sends his mum into banks to look at their list of foreclosures, chooses families that are about to lose their homes,… and pays off the mortgage… His isn’t sentimental flag-waving; it’s like an old-fashioned social conscience, wrapped in global fame, dressed as a basketball. It’s impossible not to fall in love with him a little bit.”
Seriously, what’s not to love?