Tag Archives: the hills

Joey Essex

24 Apr
Joey Essex

Joey Essex

Until two weeks ago, I’d ignored The Only Way Is Essex. In fact, over the past half decade, I’ve ignored all of the quasi-reality shows featuring overindulged young people looked bored by their own inane conversations: The Hills, The City, Jersey ShoreLaguna Beach, everything the Kardashians have done (apart from when Kim got pissed on by Ray J – that piss was for real).

All of these shows were carved in the image of The Simple Life, but pale in comparison. TSL was astounding, not only because Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie are genuinely funny, but because they were taken out of their comfort zones, to experience life with ‘normal Americans’, who, by that very definition, weren’t normal at all. It was Louis Theroux’s Weird Weekends made more digestible for people who like to watch a wall-eyed Tippi Hedren-a-like giggle at the jokes cracked by an 22-year-old ex-heroin addict.

By the time it got to series 5, the formula was tired, and the girls’ respective DUI cases held up filming. Producers decided, then, to do away with the task of getting rich kids to relinquish their vanities and luxuries, and just stick a couple of cameras in front of some rich teenagers in their own habitats, in the hope that at some point, someone would watch. And yeah, people do watch – probably because some people are quite stupid and some people get too nailed on a Saturday night to do anything but fester in front of MTV on Sundays. The cumulative effect of these shows is that audiences now expect actors more wooden than Keanu Reeves’ erections and dialogue as complex as a cheese sandwich [see: Gossip Girl].

TOWIE, though British, and as a result, more accessible, never appealed to me. It seemed as inane as all the American stuff. But I must admit, Joey Essex is something of a wonder. At a recent work placement at a women’s weekly, I was asked to find photos of Joey at clubs. How would I do this? By trawling through every single photo taken in Essex clubs to spot him. Out of thes hordes of perma-tanned blokes decked out in pink pinstripes and beerstains, how would I identify Joey? But of course – the hair!

Most of the male attendees of Brentwood’s Sugar Hut and the like have spiked ‘dos, 2005 indie mops, slapheads, Hoxton fins (REMEMBER?) or revisions of any style John Terry’s kept his 50mg of grey matter warm with. Apart from Joey, who has a gel-free, suave bonce. It’s a perfect lesbian cut, because, well, so many lesbians have hair exactly like it. Lacking in wet-look product, it’s a man’s cut, but it is still dandified, suiting metrosexuals and lesbisexuals alike.