The bogan is furious. Underbelly has been nominated for the “Most Outstanding Drama Series” Logie Award. This is wrong, as the bogan knows that the correct category for the show is the “Most Outstanding Factual Program” Logie. But, being the compassionate bivalve that it is, the bogan is willing to overlook this grave error and watch the awards ceremony anyway. Part of the reason why it still watches, is because of its love of the voting process. The Gold Bogie is determined by popular vote via soul-sapping trashmedia appendage TV Week. It is understood that 98% of the votes are cast by 13 year old girls, network publicists, and bogans. As a result, it is Australian television’s most revered prize.
Local television content laws notwithstanding, the Logie Awards are ample proof that the bogan is a creature that cherishes mediocrity and habit. Intimidated by the prospect of a variety of stars gracing its plasma screen, the bogan will cling needily to the same star for years at a time. Ray Martin won four successive Gold Bogies in the mid 90s for his bogan-friendly consumer outrage journalism, before Lisa McCune got the next four for keeping Mt Thomas free of ethnic minorities. Georgie Parker pinched the two after that, then Rove got the next three for pandering to P!nk. Since then, every Gold Logie has gone to an actor who had constantly been on Australian television for decades prior. As such, Alf from Home and Away is almost certain to take it out in 2010, despite the fact that almost all bogans are unaware of his real name.
The annual awards ceremony aspires to be similar to an American awards night, except shitter. In this pursuit of media-ocrity, the bogan has summoned Bert Newton to host the 2010 awards. This is primarily due to his proven ability to count backwards from 20, his proven inability to attach fox hide to his cranium, and his rare capacity to incorporate sexual innuendo that is both acceptable and thrilling to grandmothers. 2010 is the first time Bert has flown solo in the gig since 1993, demonstrating that network executives are plumbing new unimaginative depths to create an insipid bogan-pacifying lump of pabulum four hours long.
The bogan will watch the show, intent on learning which of its favourite shows and ‘personalities’ will win its cherished ‘Most Popular’ awards. It will smile in the satisfied manner of someone who did not submit a vote, so can approve of any selection when Anonymous Blonde takes out Most Popular New Talent for the twelfth year running. The bogan will be well prepared for the main event, having sat through a solid hour of jaw-droppingly stupefying ‘repartee’ between celebrities with unmoving eyebrows and Richard Wilkins, whose entire being is now 83.6% botulinum toxin. As his radioactive orange skin (made from the same polymer as Bert’s toupée) blends with the crimson of the carpet, bogans will comment to one another just how well he and Rebecca Gibney have aged.