Over the years, various formulas have proved successful on Britain’s Got Talent, from dogs (think Pudsey) to dance groups (Diversity) and patriotism (this year’s D-Day Darlings, an act that verged on jingoistic). But Sunday night’s final threw another into the mix: disability.
This series has been notable for how many contestants have identified as having a disability, including a child singer with autism and a dancer who became a wheelchair user after the Manchester arena bombing. In the end, the top two spots went to disabled comedians: Robert White, who has Asperger’s, and the winner, Lost Voice Guy, who has cerebral palsy.
It feels particularly subversive that White and LVG, whose real name is Lee Ridley, did not shy away from disability as part of their acts. LVG, who performed using an electronic voice box, relentlessly skewered perceptions of disability and the awkwardness that often surrounds non-disabled people’s interaction with it.
Comedy and disability in Britain have a dire track record – see jokes by everyone from Jimmy Carr to Frankie Boyle. There are few more unappealing sights than a non-disabled comedian encouraging a crowd to laugh at disabled people. As LVG joked: “People often ask me why I want to put myself in the position where everyone can stare and laugh at me. The truth is, it happens every day anyway. At least this time there’s a time and a place for it.”
BGT was not without its faults. “So many people are going to be inspired by you. And, for that, you’ve already won,” Alesha Dixon said at one point as the inspiration trope reared its head. There was also the pity factor. At times, I worried the general population’s expectations of disabled people were so low that they would vote for one of us simply for managing to get out of bed in the morning. Yet, with the audience in hysterics at LVG’s final performance, it felt as though his act was embraced on equal terms.
Talent show wins seems a trite measure of success for minorities, but the impact of popular culture and representation should not be underestimated. Such acts go further in normalising disability and challenging society than any charity campaigns. In the words of LVG: “I hope you’ve had fun laughing at a disabled man. Goodbye.”