No Valley Low Enough? Beg to Differ…

As an English undergraduate, I make it my business to keep abreast of the top-seller list, to keep an eye out for the profound yet subtle masterstrokes most likely to shape our cultural bents and tomorrow’s literary canon. Naturally, then, this week I chanced upon Honest: My Story So Far, the penetrating and provoking debut autobiography of the ever-erudite Tulisa Contostavlos. She’s made mistakes that she’s learned from, we knew that bit already, but in her new memoir the X Factor judge offers new snippets from her slog to the top. Never one for reticence, T muses at one point that, if it hadn’t been for her happening upon music, she’d most likely be living with a drug dealer by now. And then what? We’d be one sex tape down, for one thing. FHM’s ardent readers would be pretty miffed, for another. And Nicole might be our favorite female on the panel. Perish the thought.

‘What do you want to do when you leave school?’ It’s the third-degree opener we’ve all been stung with at awkward family weddings, and one about 95% of us have given bungling, cringe-worthy responses to at least once. And it seems like such a needless exchange. Could Tulisa have known, as she (apparently) vomited over her first would-be lover aged 12, of the unfathomable pedestal we’d come to set her on? External circumstances sometimes call for a rethink. This week, I myself came terrifyingly close to jacking in the degree, the blog, the lot, and chucking myself into the closest monastery around. Yes, you read it right.

The culprits: The show's line-up ranged from sleazy to sleazier

The reason for my new leaning towards abstinence is MTV’s brand (dare I even type it?) spanking new reality series, The Valleys, which I ill advisedly tuned into for its opening episode last week. The show plucks 8 of the orangest, crudest no-hopers the South Wales Valleys has to offer and plonks them in a Cardiff pad, tailing each of them as they attempt to live out their glamour model/party boy dreams. It has induced almost Celebrity Big Brother circa 2007 controversy for its boorish representation of Welsh youth, with the not-exactly-demure Imogen Thomas and Jonathan Ross weighing in on the fall-out via Twitter. The worry, amongst those who quickly panned the programme, is that MTV is lavishing the same sleazy reputation upon the people of Wales that it heaped on Newcastle with Geordie Shore. At the risk of sounding like most of its stars, however: what about me? I’m about as Welsh as a punctured rugby ball, but I felt violated, ashamed and, at the same time, bored to tears by the show.

'You can't s**g a personality': Chidgey showed a way with words

From the moment its smutty cast made their introductions and entrances into the house, The Valleys’ lack of likeable figures was manifest. First into the fray was supposed Beyoncé dead-ringer Lateysha, and Ms. Knowles will be glad to hear I’ve seen spatulas that look more like her. Lateysha went on to become the episode’s instigator of audience enmity, not least when she cavorted over wannabe-rapper Leeroy and then refused to bed him on the basis that the ‘only thing she was giving head to was her pillow’. Aside from the time she slobbered all over fellow housemate Nicole, Lateysha treated any potential competitor for male-attention with theatrical ill-will, lashed the majority of her roomies with her spiky tongue and generally made me thank Christ for my Y chromosome.

Classy lady: Carley quickly did away with her top

To be fair to Lateysha, though, her lewd and bawdy contemporaries didn’t do much better. As bricklayer Chidgey talked over snogging with his mother, model Jenna surmised that her 4K breast implants were just ‘meant to be out’ and frisky kick boxer Aron arrived wearing a V-neck deeper than the Atlantic, it became clear that the episode would continue to be almost pornographically indelicate. Aspiring PR-girl Carley showing up and hastily whipping out her pierced-boobs for Chidgey to cop a feel of was probably the hour’s lowest ebb (though, admittedly, not for Chidgey), but debasement was never out of the frame for too long. By the time the show’s subjects were flailing around on the floor of a Cardiff nightclub and being as liberal with the booze as they had evidently been with the fake bake, I felt like I needed a good scrub down.

The series’ stars soon added ‘fast’ to ‘loose’ and proved their supreme indifference when picking a mate. ‘Romantic’ relationships became more confusing in five minutes of The Valleys than it has in 50 years of Ken Barlow, with Lateysha first liking Leeroy, then Leeroy liking Carley, and Carley liking Chidgey, and Chidgey liking Jenna, and Jenna just liking her chihuahua. Though it’d be naïve to expect it to be subtle and meandering, even for a reality show, it all just seemed hopelessly fast-paced for an opening episode. It’s been a day or two since I (somehow) finished the installment, and I’m already fuzzy on its erotic ups and downs. Even if I could get beyond the debilitating sexual debauchery, I’d be fighting a losing battle trying to learn or care about house-dynamics.

I’m assured, by MTV’s site itself, that the series does have some sort of discernible format. Granted, occasionally a wide-eyed, smirking 40-something would take to the camera, introduced as ‘Boss’, and jabber senselessly about giving the cohabitants a tougher time, but it was hard to see their place in the ceaseless fornification of it all. One such ‘Boss’ gave Carley a dressing down (about the only time she’s needed any help) for her shenanigans whilst another hauled Chidgey, Jenna and Nicole off to the beach for a modeling shoot, and I’m led to believe they have some mentoring role in the format… In other news, hairdresser Nicole weed all over the shower.

In all, it’s an ignorantly bleak picture of The Valleys that, with Carley labeling it a ‘f*****g s***hole’, has every cause for concern. But I wouldn’t worry yourself too much, Imogen – even the chihuahua came off pretty poorly.