New lows plumbed

[Gob]

I Can't Believe It's a Show - 'Redneck Island'



There's an episode of “30 Rock” in which Tina Fey's character, Liz Lemon, is embarrassed to learn of her network's newest reality TV show: “MILF Island”, a dating competition in which older women strut around in bikinis before being voted off, “Survivor”-style, by teenage boys. The joke works because while “MILF Island” sounds vaguely like the kind of stupid reality TV show all networks pump out these days in between Kardashians, it's so obviously ridiculous it would never actually be made.

Except you're wrong, because check it out: “Redneck Island”.

If you'd like to pretend that the above is actually a spoof ad that's a viral promotion for “30 Rock” or “The Soup” or something, I totally understand. Just click away now (maybe to some pictures of puppies) and your faith in humanity will remain intact. For all the rest of you: I Can't Believe It's A Show either.

Here's the deal: 12 self-identified “rednecks” – southern states-dwelling Americans with a predilection for watery beer, shooting things and diabetes – compete in moronic challenges on what everyone agrees to pretend is an island for an hour each week to a constant soundtrack of banjo-plucking, and ex pro-wrestler “Stone Cold” Steve Austin (apparently the “king of the rednecks”) occasionally shows up to read an autocue.



At the end of every episode the rednecks vote someone off by writing their name on a beer can and putting it in an esky (no, I'm not making that up) until only one remains to claim the prize which is, as Austin so eloquently puts it: “100,000 dollars cash money”.

It's sort of like “Survivor” – if “Survivor” was contested only by fat people with irritating accents, and wasn't in any way challenging whatsoever.

You see, while contestants on “Survivor” have to make their own shelter, hunt for food and water and protect themselves from killer Amazonian insects and Jeff Probst's smugness using only sticks and sea water, the rednecks' camp – which looks uncannily like a Mexican beach resort – is pimped out with pre-made huts, bunk beds, a bar, an inflatable swimming pool and deck chairs, and they're given beer, fresh fish and tinned food.



So basically, what you're watching is a bunch of annoying, pissed Americans on a slightly mediocre Contiki holiday led by a bloke who looks like a condom full of walnuts. Even the challenges are lame – in the first episode they compete for a porta-loo. Admittedly, it's painted gold, but still, I would have thought that, of all people, rednecks would be proud to shit in the woods. I also would have thought that sitting around in a deckchair on a beach drinking beer and occasionally running around a toilet wouldn't be too difficult a way to earn $100,000, but then you've got to take the contestants into account.

Like “Bobo” of Alabama, a recent MENSA graduate who explains that “the best way to a woman's belly is through her stomach.” And Adam, of Tennessee, a genius who manages to lose a giant pasta pot in the ocean within 10 minutes of arriving. And JP the obese diabetic from Florida, who has to go to the emergency room after a gruelling hour digging for cans of SPAM on the beach.

Apparently Steve Austin's famous catchphrase from his pro-wrestling days was “WHAT?”.

I can't think of anything more appropriate.