ITV1, Wed 30 May 2007, 8.00 pm
The soaps really do have overinflated egos.
I'm not a snob. I've watched EastEnders pretty consistenly since the late-80s, Coronation Street has been a part of my life since childhood, Emmerdale has been a guilty pleasure since the "plane crash revamp" and I even watched Neighbours religiously after school until 1996.
I like soaps. It's just as well, because you can't really escape them! They're part of the British national psyche. You may hate them, but everyone knows who Ken Barlow, the Mitchell Brothers and the Dingles are. You may even have a basic grasp of a few storylines, purely through browsing listings magazines and overhearing colleagues chatting at lunchtime.
But, oh yes, soaps have egos. BIG ones. They view themselves as the touchstones of British television. There's an argument for this belief, certainly, but all the soaps are suffering from lapses in quality as their weekly episodes increase.
Soap egomania is best demonstrated every year at the British Soap Awards. Yes, I know there's a British Comedy Awards, but atleast the competition is wide-ranging there. In the Soap Awards it's a five horse race: EastEnders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale, Hollyoaks and Doctors.
As such, there's a bubbling sense of rowdiness you probably remember from school days. Make no mistake, this is the inter-school sports day of the soap world, with Philip Schofield and Fern Britten as bland referees.
Things began on a self-consciously glamorous note with the Red Carpet sequence. A few hundred soap actors pretending they're at the Oscars, set to orchestral bastardizations of soap theme tunes.
The awards ceremony itself is a mix of tacky and glossy. Cast and crews are crammed into a rudimentary ITV studio (black curtains, twinkly lights) to be greeted by Phil n' Fern, a "double act" who never seem entirely comfortable with each other outside of the This Morning studio. Philip got better support from Gordon The Gopher.
Just as the Red Carpet pretence of the Soap Awards being something trendy begins to dwindle at the sight of Fern Britten in a blue inkblot dress, it quickly hits the tackiness button with the first award's announcement: Sexiest Male.
An assortment of actors were nominated and shown customary slo-mo clips with Robert Kazinsky's cold stare in the audience proving very memorable. As EastEnders' Sean Slater, I'm sure Kazinsky's convinced he's destined for Hollywood (all the handsome 'Enders men do), but for now he'll have to suffer the indignity of a Sexiest Male nom...
In the interest of balance, Sexiest Female was next, of course. The Hollyoaks babes seem to have it in the bag (being sexy is, after all, the primarily reason any of them get work), but it was won by Lacey Turner, who plays slutty Stacy in EastEnders. She's been miserable since the show started, before looking horrified at the nomination (muttering "Jeeeesus...") but manages to perk up once she trots to collect her award.
While there's no denying the Soap Awards are a load of self-congratulatory tripe, there's plenty of unintentional laughs to be had along the way. Whenver someone from Hollyoaks or Doctors won, just watch everyone else asking "who the f*ck are they?" with their glassy stares and polite smiles.
The quality of celebs presenting awards was D+ at best. Just what has Keith Barron actually done in the last 20 years? League Of Gentlemen's Steve Pemberton was dragged on just to plug ITV drama Benidorm. Danny Dyer became even more of charicature cockney with his pronouncement of "Emmerdayowl". Penny Lancaster was there for the cash. Greg Rusedski must think being in anything with "British" in the title helps him keep his passport. Oh, and stick-thin Fern Cotton decided to wear a bin bag...
Harry Hill put in the best appearance ("looking at the audience is like looking at the cast of The Bill five years from now"), but then he ruined it by recycling some TV Burp footage. Grump Wiliam Roache didn't look happy to be compared to a ventriloquist's puppet, did he? Nothing could disguise that, not even the magic of editing making the show's scripted gags cause dangerous-looking bellylaughs.
The most memorable moment of the show was hearing Corrie's murdered Charlie Stubbs speak with a plummy voice. It's always disconcerting when working class characters are revealed as thespian luvvies. I still can't wrap my head around the knowledge that Pat Butcher has perfect diction... or that Fred Elliot doesn't talk like a stuck record.
Anyway, by the time X-Factor tosspot Ray Quinn popped up, still under the misapprehension people give a shit about his singing "career", my attention began to flag and Big Brother 8 beckoned...
To quote a clip of Deirdre from earlier, "It doesn't get any more rock bottom than this." Give the woman a Best Summation award!
