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My Supermodel Baby review | Goo goo

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My Supermodel Baby

BBC1

This is a good deal less annoying and outrageous than you expect and you can’t help but feel a little cheated.  If you knew beforehand that nobody particularly punchable would be passing through your screen then you probably wouldn’t have watched.  You got your punching arm ready and everything!  My Supermodel Baby is just asking for trouble.   In what passes for your mind you know all about childhood models.  Those that don’t end up like JonBenet Ramsay, killed by her mother in a bedwetting rage incident, end up soulless gurning monsters burnt out by the age of 21 months.  Regrettably, it’s a lot duller than that.

"In what passes for your mind you know all about childhood models. Those that don’t end up like JonBenet Ramsay, end up soulless gurning monsters burnt out by the age of 21 months. Regrettably, it’s a lot duller than that."

But baby modelling is highly competitive, this documentary tells us.  You can make £££££££!!!! and you therefore hope for scenes reminiscent of the Nazi babies in Bruno but what you actually get are two lesbians and their moderately cute baby boy.  Frankie, eight months old, and his mothers Janie and Kelly. They are dippy but not so much they make you killy.

Maybe Esther, a young mother with eyes like saucers, smiles like dinner plates and a reckless enthusiasm drawn from the Earth’s core itself will be our hate figure? No, it’s not that kind of documentary, she’s kind of likeable.  Her young hopeful is Hadley Jack, a bubbly young infant much in the mould of his mother. Esther’s place is a tip and her five children mayhem personified but they seem happy.  Happy mom, happy baby, happy household.  They’re in the happy house.  They’re happy here in the happy house.  Either that or she’s on some seriously good drugs

“‘It’s a big thing, Littlewoods catalogue’ says Leanne.  She’s not kidding – fecking thing nearly wrecked my letterbox.”

And looking in need of some seriously good drugs are Matthew and Leanne from Huddersfield.  They’re really not very bright. Missing a few teeth and a few chromosomes, Matthew has been out of work for a while.  I’m amazed anybody employed this mush mouth but as Nassim Taleb points out people consistently underestimate the highly improbable. 

Take Matthew and Leanne’s identical triplets Scarlet, Evie and Lily – you don’t see that every day (unless you’re Matthew and Leanne).  The couple struggle manfully to place their sprogs in a shoot and, after a distressing period of industry indifference, they finally get a gig.  "It’s a big thing, Littlewoods catalogue" says Leanne.  She’s not kidding – fecking thing nearly wrecked my letterbox.

It’s beginning to look like the kids are alright as Frankie gets a gig with Mother and Baby magazine.  Then the irrepressible Esther gets Hadley Jack the cover of Practical Parenting. Casting director Paul Boothroyd deftly Photoshops the shit out of Hadley Jack – touch out creases, say his notes; brighten eyes, lighten skin tone, ease saliva on lips – it reads like your girl’s beauty routine.

"Casting director Paul Boothroyd deftly Photoshops the shit out of Hadley Jack, touch out creases, say his notes; brighten eyes, lighten skin tone, ease saliva on lips – it reads like your girl’s beauty routine."

So what have we learned?  Nothing of consequence.  People take photos of babies and put them on magazine covers.  Babies are financially compensated for the inconvenience.  All have prizes and all is well with the world.  Starting to sick up a little yet?

The best thing about it: Esther, I guess(ter).

The worst thing about it: The lack of conflict.

The verdict on My Supermodel Baby: More harmless than charmless.

Marks out of 10: 7

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