The Swan.

I don't like swans. I think they look beautiful from a distance, but having been chased half way up Portobello one morning by one of those psychotic hissing beasts I now view them with distrust.
I don't like The Swan, the 'reality' television show either.
For anyone who doesn't know it, this is a show where they- the producers- take/pick plain and sometimes unattractive women and (hack, saw, break, replace, tweak lift, stitch, diet, pluck, wax, dress, makeup) transform them into 'beauties' and then these 'beauties' can go on to enter a pagent. The over all winner is crowned "The Swan'(as opposed to the ugly ducklings or Goosey Lucys or whatever they call the runner-ups).
It is a horrible show, and trades on the insecurities, hope and sadness of unhappy women. A lot of the women are from broken relationships and are at a cross roads in their lives. They blame their situations almost entirely on their looks and see themselves as ugly, and as they are 'ugly' that means they have no worth.
Most of them are clearly in need of councelling and support.Some of them are boderline depressives.
The producers of this show like these women the best, because their pathetic, grateful, pleas for help. It makes for great television-apparently. ('Ah look at her weeping and saying no one loves her, don't worry baby, we'll get you a new body then you can kick that man who's cheating to the kerb like the dawg he is!')
So for x amount of weeks these women are preened over, supported (both mentally and physically) catered to, listened to and cared for. Naturally under this attention they bloom. They become stronger, more confident, they begin to smile, they feel better, loved, cared for. As ever pound is shed every cent of self worth tots up in the cash register.
Ah, but there is a bill. Ding ding. Here it comes now, beautiful, virginal, in a serene graceful line, churning the water underneath, paddling furiously with its ugly webbed feet.
Ladies, this is why you are here. Roll up roll up! I'm glad you feel better, because you are about to be pitched aganst each other to see which of you new totally articifial looking super-women looks the best. You're a nice person? Well sure honey but we ain't interested in that! Suck it in girls, suck it in.
The lights go up, the gowns sparkle, the skin is bronze, the glistening perfect teeth, lip glossed smiles are tense. The eyes say...'Pick me ! Pick me! I'm worthy! Look at me, look at my new face, please don't reject me.'
Hisssssssss....
Unfortunately, in the words of 'Highlander'...
There can be only one.
After the show the ladies are sent back to their lives. Bye bye support, friendship, motivation, councelling, makeup artist and team. The carnival must move on.
Sink or swim ladies, you got new teeth, a neck reduction, a tummy tuck, hair dos and a nose job, you look like Barbie, why ain't ya happy? What do you mean beauty does not automatically mean happiness? Are ya nuts?
They shouldn't call this show The Swan, they should call it The Vultures. After all what else are the producers if not great big ugly birds of prey, circling the skies looking for the bodies of the weak and the meek to carve up and pick over -and all for the sake of entertainment.