Came across this interesting article in STREATS. But don't worry, i haven't lost my faith in TODAY. just wanna know what's my competitors up to. the article reads something similar to below. *grin*

Television producers were criticised yesterday over reports that they are developing a reality show in which men would compete for a chance to father a child and then take part in an on-air "sperm race". ( think the title of the show is " MAKE ME A MUM")

In the show, which has been mooted by the company that makes Channel 4's Big Brother, up to 1,000 men would attempt to convince a woman to pick them as the father of her first child by impressing her with their intelligence, sex appeal and fitness. ( the blue pill don't work now, you can't boost your intelligence with pills instantly.)

A second sperm donor would be chosen on the basis of genetic compatibility, and the two finalists would then take part in the sperm race in which the insemination process could be filmed using new technology. ( if you guys ejaculate after mugs of beer/ alcohol, your sperm can't swim straight. and you believe this, you are nuts too.)

Brighter Pictures, a subsidiary of Endemol, is considering making the programme, provisionally called Make Me a Mum. An Endemol spokesman said details about the show's contents were speculative.

Life, an anti-abortion campaign group, said the show "sounds like prostitution".  (sounds another Anna Belle Chong thingy)

A spokesman said: "It's absolutely despicable. It's exploitation with no consideration for the child that may or may not be created. If the child learns that he or she was fathered, not out of love, but for the purposes of a TV programme, that's extremely psychologically damaging." ( if i am the child, i dunno who's my dad.)

Remy Blumenfeld, Brighter's creative director, told Broadcast magazine: "There's a tremendous amount of science to this show. It's completely fascinating. It's much more about the rule of science than the rules of attraction." ( it's completely fascinating he can think of this idea to create revenue.)

Brighter Pictures attracted controversy with a previous show, for Sky One, called There's Something About Miriam in which a group of men competed for the affections of a woman, only to discover she was a transsexual.



click on http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/3614407.stm to find out out more.

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yet another week of Mr Brown - Can't get you out of my head



Home 2004 keeps playing in my head like a CD player without a stop button

I HAVE done my National Day duty. In order to spread the joy around, I have been sharing the MP3 of the song "Home 2004" sung by the little kids with the white and black samfoos running along the river. And whoever I cannot reach via email, I hum or sing the song to them. In fact, I went one step further to the edge of insanity — I downloaded a free polyphonic (or "pornyphonic" as the voice recording pronounced it) ringtone of this National song for my mobile phone, so that everyone around me can sing along.

I figure if I cannot get the song out of MY head, I may as well help others join me in what I call the National Song virus.

Don't get me wrong. I like the song, it is quite sweet, catchy, and has an uplifting feeling to it, especially the version sung by the kids choir. But when you hear it or watch it as often as I do, you will either hurt someone with a blunt instrument or migrate to another country. Not a good reaction for a song designed to make you feel like making Singapore your "Home".

In fact, not only can I not get the song out of my head, I cannot get the video out of my head. As described on the NDP website, "4 days ... 60 hrs ... 63 kids ... 10,800 feet of film". The little kids running along the river bank, riding on an open double-decker bus, blowing bubbles, while dressed in that white and black Chinese maidservant uniform ... images that just play on and on in my head.

See? You can't get it out of your head now too, right? Good. You can join my club.

The only thing I cannot figure out is how come they keep singing to a lady called "Shirley". As in "This is home, Shirley, as my senses tell me…" She must be somebody important. By now you are already thinking I am a very cynical and unpatriotic grouch for making light of such a grand national song with those nice kids performing their hearts out. I will have you know I am big supporter of kids performing, ok?

My own daughter Faith, her teachers tell me (or told her Grandma, rather, because she and Grandpa take her to school, bless their souls), is scheduled to dance to the tune "Under the Sea" (from the movie, The Little Mermaid) at some public event in a few months time. Now, I never knew my girl even knew the song, let alone like it so much that she would dance to it. That's so typical of fathers sometimes, right?

My wife had to remind me the other day that my boy Isaac is into his third can of milk powder (apparently, he is now on mixed breast milk/cow's milk feeds). I foolishly said, "He's on formula already?" thereby revealing my utter lack of attention to matters of the childrenly kind. That earned me a firm rebuke, of course, and I had to pledge to be a better father in future.

So back to my dancing daughter, well, of course I am thrilled and gave my permission (or my wife did, and told me later). I know at the very least that she will not have any problems with stage fright, or dancing in front of a crowd. Because she generally tunes other people out. At least that sensory dysfunction is good for something.

They are going to dress her up and everything. Although I am not told if she is going as a fish or a mermaid. I am sure it will be something dignified and tasteful, like maybe a baby lobster. I hope this first taste of public performance will not give her too much pressure. The entertainment industry can be so brutal on little kids. Today it will be "Under the Sea", before you know it, she will be doing an overly adult music video with Britney Spears.

My wife is very cool about all this. Mothers are on top of everything in the household. At least the mother of my kids is (third can of formula, really?). She knows where all the kids' clothes are, their therapy schedules, their bedtime quirks.

And above all, she knows you. Well enough to look past your silliness and macho nonsense ("sweetheart, there is no need to overtake that man just because he cut into your lane").

It is just as well she accepts you so deeply, because you are, sure as heck, not going to impress her with your looks now. I was driving her to work when I noticed out loud that I forgot to shave. She looked at me and said, when I don't shave, I look like Xiao Ding Dang (Doraemon). Notice she did not say I looked like Brad Pitt in Troy. Noooo, had to be Xiao Ding Dang, a round blue and white Japanese cartoon character with whiskers.

Thanks honey, I feel like a hunk now.

Nor are you going to impress her with your car. I was thinking of fixing a fairly deep dent at the rear of my car and told her so.

She quickly said: "No lah, don't. The dent is one of the ways I identify your car in the car park." I suppose she needs it, since she cannot tell a silver Nissan Sunny from a silver Opel Astra (they all look the same to me, she says).

Nor are you going to impress her with your I-am-so-sick face. My family had a bout of fever lately (it went from daughter to father to son), and with all the dengue fever talk in the news, I got somewhat worried. So I asked my wife, what will happen if my blood tests come back and I really have dengue fever and I die from it, then she how ah?

She looked at me, gave me a cheeky smile and said: "But I will get the flat, right?"

At least I know she has her priorities in the right place.

Oh no, there's the song again. Going off in my head like a CD player without a stop button. Somebody make it stop ...

"This is home, truly

As my senses tell me

This is where I won't be alone

For this is where I know it's home"

I look at my mermaid-dancing daughter, my laptop-destroying baby son (daddy doesn't work on the living room floor no more), my Xiao Ding Dang wife and all the friends and family who matter, and you know what? I don't need a National song to tell me I am home.

mr brown is the accidental author of a popular website that has been documenting the dysfunctional side of Singapore life since 1997. His friend Tony now officially hates him for sticking the tune in his head. Tony now hums the song without knowing it.