Talent show torture

DON’T put your daughter on the stage Mrs Worthington. Or, in this case, Mrs Steel.

It’s not that 10-year-old Holly was rubbish. Far from it, she sang like an angel — a posh one.

But for one moment during the semi-final, when she broke down in hysterical tears after forgetting a word or two of “Edelweiss” (and who wouldn’t), I thought she was going to get the sympathy vote and actually win “Britain’s Got Talent”.

And what a disaster that would have been for little Holly from Accrington. I’ve never heard a grown-up former child star advocate sticking your offspring in front of millions to perform their hearts out.

It’s a tough enough profession for adults. Those who survive the glitz and glamour while growing up have nothing but bad to say about it.

Putting your child through the inevitable rejection and failure that comes with entering — and not winning — a national talent show such as this is tantamount to child abuse. Children need to be nurtured, not humiliated in front of millions.

This Government is always finding new ways of ordering us what to do — and not to do — with our children, from how much (and what) they eat, to how much telly they watch and the amount of exercise they get. Well, here’s a new one: Make a minimum age below which pushy parents will be stuck in the stocks if they dare put their child on the stage.

Because unless we do something soon, next time this programme rears it’s ugly head, the oldest performer will be three. Or a dog.

And talking of “the” talent show, was I the sole celebrant when Susan Boyle failed to be voted best of the bunch? Call me a miserable old fart, but I find it just a tad obscene that such hype surrounded someone merely because she was almost 50 and, let’s call a spade a blooming shovel here, unattractive.

Had Susan Boyle been a 20-something stunner then we’d have all taken that voice for granted and she’d have joined the ranks of the talented and not those of the freak.

And, while we’re on the subject of audience voting shows, can someone explain to me why we were asked to vote for the winning dishes on “Great British Menu”?

We may or may not be qualified to pick a winner from a bunch of performing dogs, apple-eating jugglers and sexy saxophonists (my personal favourite) but how the hell can we decide how good a Lancashire hotpot tastes by the way it looks?

Oh, silly me. It’s all about the cash raked in from the calls isn’t it? And there I was thinking we made a difference with our votes.