Filed under: Practical Jokes and Mischief
Ken Tarr Launches a Hoax Campaign on an Industry Immune to Shame
by Graham Rayman
June 5 2013
Reality TV Insurgent
The packed midtown television studio of The Bill Cunningham Show was pimped out in the fake wood paneling and industrial gray paint of a Jersey office park. On its stage sat a geeky white guy, his hair moussed in a dated faux-hawk. He was furious.
He called himself K.T., claiming to be a prince of the Gypsies, which entitled him to certain extracurricular liberties when it came to romance. His essential theory: He could cheat on his girlfriend, Cynthia, as much as he wished. Cynthia, on the other hand, should be strictly bound to Victorian rules.
Then came the twist: K.T. had recently discovered that the wealthy Cynthia was cheating on him with his boss. Now all three sat onstage, prepared for the cathartic confrontation that only reality talk show hosts like Cunningham could provide.
“I cheat on her but she can’t cheat on me,” K.T. announced in a Southern accent of mysterious origin. “I am a Magyar Gypsy and leader of my caravan. All Gypsy men are allowed to cheat, as long as they are honest about it.”
The crowd booed lustily. Cunningham, a man of alarmingly hawk-like features, perched at the edge of his leatherish chair like an eager child watching a car accident.
Despite his fury, K.T. admitted that he was only using Cynthia for her money.
At that, she jumped from her chair, reached down her blouse, ripped a gel pad from her bra, and shook it at the audience. “If I was so rich,” she bellowed, “why would I be wearing one of these? I’d have my boobs done!”
The audience gasped. Cunningham had once again lived up to his show’s motto: “Real stories, real emotion, real drama. It’s daytime talk for real.”
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