He stands behind the chip board set,
Perma-tan and bleached white teeth
Polished up and ready to be flashed
At audiences in their seats, shuffling
And fluttering with pure excitement.
They want the thrill of quiz show questions
That they can whisper under bated breaths,
Waiting for contestants to trip up,
Knowing they could win the prize,
If only they’d been chosen for
The shiny podium with buzzers to be pressed
To win the holiday, the car, the pots and pans
That really are not needed. But meeting him,
That famous face in sparkling polyester coats
Is just as thrilling as the win, he knows
He’s star attraction, selfie taken
For their Instagram, he’ll smile for them,
For money and for fame. But underneath it all
He’d like to strip away the sequin blazer and
The lights that blind and make him sweat,
To be at home with just his cat, his slippers on
And watching someone else be fake for half an hour.
Margot Kinberg
You do wonder what those quiz show hosts are like in real life, and I like the way you’ve ended your poem on that point, Rachel. They look so perfect as to be fake when they’re hosting the show, but you just wonder what’s beneath all that…
patientandkindlove
One TV judge who prides himself on being nasty came into the petrol station I worked in and he was just the loveliest guy ever. It made me realise that these are all just acts, something I didn’t really appreciate until then.
Greg Dennison
Nice 🙂
patientandkindlove
Thanks