The bogan knows it is unique and special and that it is particularly awesome. Because of its constitutionally enshrined free speech, it has many means of letting other know it, and even more for confirming this deeply held belief with itself. However, the belief conceals a deep, troubling insecurity. Is it really a unique gift to the world? How to be sure? The bogan realised that it needs to start every day with special reassurance that it is, indeed, a special snowflake, and that every other special snowflake thinks the same things it does. Breakfast TV was born.
Breakfast TV is a carefully calibrated mathematical bogan formula; the result of decades of intense trial and error. Two robots, made to appear male and female, flirt awkwardly with one another while offering a carefully selected combination of ‘news’ articles. These articles are designed to make the bogan smile the smile of the liberated, understanding bogan, or alternately fill the bogan with an inhuman rage. In between stories of bogans inspired by stories from the previous night’s A Current Affair or Today/Tonight, other bogans will pose on the street behind the set through a window. In the belief that they can receive twenty seconds of patronising attention from the obligatory dwarf weatherman, they will travel 45 minutes to the CBD of Sydney, carry placards, wave and gesticulate madly in an effort to draw the producers’ eye.
Along with the resident obligatory dwarf weatherman, there is also the obligatory outrageously camp ‘gossip’ reporter – who is irritating enough for the bogan to announce that its dislike is for reasons other than him being a fucking poof, all the while embracing the idea of gay people in two dimensions. Then there are the hosts themselves. The female robot sits, looking anodyne and attractive, lulling the bogan in to watch while the male robot, pretending to be jovial, is actually plotting the destruction of the universe. Each network’s robot has an inbuilt programming specialty, letting them either offer inane life and financial advice, or terrible, terrible jokes, after which it will grin stupidly at the camera, giving the bogan the impression that the joke was funny. The female robot is programmed to laugh also. Channel 7, however, have yet to replicate the technology that gave Channel 9 the inhuman incubus that is Richard Wilkins.
So, the bogan could wake up on weekdays and get a taste of reassurance to kick off the day. But then came Saturday. The bogan would awake groggily, and tune in, expecting to again be told that it was right, and safe. But instead, it was faced with kids’ TV. This displeased the bogan, who needed further validation. Weekend breakfast TV was born…