An angry, festering, pus-filled bubo on the televisual arse of the world, Eastenders is not just the worst programme on television (and it's up against some pretty stiff competition), but it manages to represent everything I hate about that medium and the increasingly self-congratulatory BBC.
Eastenders doesn't represent London. It's incapable of representing anything, other than crass, sensationalised storylines acted awkwardly. For one thing, most of the characters are white. With more than one in three Londoners belonging to an ethnic minority group, shouldn't one in three of their characters reflect that? Nah.
And another thing; most Londoners find it impossible to extend a pleasant greeting without ramming a "fuck" in somewhere. The worst you'll hear on Eastenders is 'rotter'. And thirdly, real Londoners don't interact with anyone. The actual Eastenders would be half an hour of braying swagger.
Please do this to the entire cast.
As for the acting, okay, I admit to flicking over whenever I see Eastenders appear, although in the fleeting seconds I've had to misfortune to catch it in years gone by, I've been overwhelmed by its piss-poor, substandard quality. An American friend of mine was over here when she caught two minutes of violent over-reaction and ham-acting during one of those regrettable seconds. She was aghast, while I tried to defend that abomination before us as a much-loved flagship soap opera running for over 20 years.
But I couldn't live the lie. It would've been easier watching my children get eaten by a pitbull - if I had any.
Of these actors, only two or three have ever dared flirt with competence. A sad few have contractually agreed to live out the rest of their lives pretending to be someone else on this cancerous lung of a programme (see above). Not up for any kind of acting award soon is the phenomenally lucky 'Pat Butcher'. I say 'lucky' as no-one else receives such a healthy wage despite having not one discernible shread of talent. In interviews, Pam St Clement appears cultivated and well-spoken. On screen, she imitates a chain-smoking chav like she's showing off in front of her bourgeois cohorts in the Groucho. You simply haven't experienced eye-bleeding overacting until you've watched Pam affect shock or surprise, leaving the viewer wondering just what the hell she did to gain employment portraying other people in a TV drama.
Eastenders is violently evil and wretched, from that fucking irritating theme tune to the effete producers whose total East End experience is crowing loudly in overpriced Hoxton bars, and on to the scriptwriters with their bags of clichés and 'yer-just don't-geddit-do-yas?'
I wish all those associated on the programme and all their devoted fans a really heavy cold.