Why does everyone hate Big Brother?

I've been doing a lot of thinking recently, a lot of soul searching, and I've realised that evryone in the world can be put into one of two categories. They are either idiots who watch Big Brother, or idiots who don’t watch Big Brother.

I shall start with the second type, for they are the worst.

Cultural Elite

They ride around on their flimsy high horses, posturing with their cheap Tesco Value displays of cultural integrity, sneering at both the ‘type’ of people you get appearing on the show, and the type of people who watch it. They self righteously huff and puff their knee jerk opinions as though they are the authority on acceptable moral and social conduct.

What is it with people and opinions? Why do they have to walk about cluttering our world with them? They’re utterly horrible things; ill thought-out guffs of emotion barely filtered out into some vaguely cohesive structure, spaffed out into the world almost as soon as they were conceived. Horrible. The exact same description could be used to describe people in general actually.

(It’s worth noting here; I do not have opinions, I have facts).

Anyway, back to these wannabe satirists. By criticising the show so blanketly and with such scorn, they are basically just succumbing to snobbery. They think they’re clever, clever enough to have seen through the transparency of the show’s tawdry and crude manifesto. They can see the strings of manipulation that fool the average brain-dead viewer – but not them. No. They’re too cynical and world weary for that. Hell, give them a slot on Have I Got News for You - I’d love to hear their wry observations of the absurdities of the modern world.

Why the hatred? Well, cynicism is basically one elaborate superiority complex. By being cynical about something you are elevating yourself above it, so far above it that you can deconstruct it and understand it more completely than the average unwashed. Clever, informed cynicism does this successfully. However, nowadays people know cynicism is fashionable and intellectual, so they blindly adopt such stances. It’s lazy intellectual posturing. If we’re going to be cynical about anything, let’s be cynical about the cynics. I mean cynicism, supposedly a slightly subversive and sophisticated attitude, is flavour of the month. Does this not dilute it to mere mediocrity?

This is especially pertinent for Big Brother. People who judge contestants have rarely even seen the show. They automatically label people on there as morons, as the lowest of the low. However, these contestants are merely a reflection of the rest of us. A large majority would comfortably fit into a lot of respectable social groups. Their neurosis and shortcomings are no more obvious than everyone else’s. However, the scorn they get you’d think these people would be social pariahs, conspicuous at any event as the one sat in the corner picking their bum-hole, singing songs about tits and penises.

My point is, sure, hate the people on Big Brother, but do it after watching them. Then at least you will have reason to do so, rather than it stemming from knee-jerk prejudice encouraged by media criticism and general public opinion.

This brings me onto my second point; people who are idiots who watch Big Brother.

Conditioned Viewer Drones

I myself am in this category, and I can offer myself no excuses for my behaviour. Why do I continue to watch? As mentioned, there are close to zero likable housemates left, and I approach each viewing of the show with regret and trepidation. I don’t even enjoy it anymore. It’s like some sort of punishment for myself, given my staunch defence of the series I have to subject myself to it. I’m like a Nazi who refuses to believe Hitler’s dead.

Having started off with a bad crop of housemates, all selected to be unlikable rather than likable, any vaguely interesting characters have gone. The only positive is that all the people there are annoying for different reasons, providing a glimmer of light for the observing sadist in my brain.

There’s Rachel, who’s so bland and… actually that’s it... she is in fact just so bland that she can’t even arouse another disparaging adjective from me. Watching her is the televisual equivalent of chewing cardboard. She’s a nice enough person, but every time she’s on screen I feel like I have to push my finger through my ear and into my brain just to give it a little tickle to stop it actually dying there and then.

Just.. Bell-end

However, Rachel isn’t quite as annoying to watch as are Rex and Nicole, who similarly make me want to reach my finger into my brain – only this time to gouge away chunks of it until I fall into some kind of coma. They’re both so infuriating. Rex is the worst, and it’s almost too easy to find fault in.

I mean, if you were to write a television show or a film, and you created a character like Rex, you’d be laughed out of Hollywood for creating an unrealistic caricature of unlikability. Your writing skills would be criticised as childish, simple, and crude. However, Rex is not fictional, he is real. And he is in no way laughable.

This is a type of guy who will be moderately successful in the world. Even without the blatant nepotism involved in getting him his high position salary, Rex’s unbridled arrogance and self belief would probably have got him into high places in the business environment. And, for the record, he is not intelligent. Just because he can speak, and can deliver arguments with confidence, it does not mean that he is in any way right, or indeed clever. You cannot be clever and so desperately unlikable.

Rex will do well with women as well. Even disregarding Nicole, Rex is appealing to a lot of females in the population. Not only have countless female friends of mine pledged support and admiration of the guy, but it was painfully obvious that in the house he had a lot of women drawn to him. Sara particularly. Even when he blanketly said she wasn’t sexy, instead of rationally thinking, “Wow, what a steaming dickhead,” Sara sat there trying to justify to herself, Rex, and anyone listening why he might have said that.

I mean, Rex is the archetypal jerk who gets the girls. Such a cliché, but it’s never more apparent. There’s something about rampant arrogance, cockiness and insensitivity that appeals to certain women, almost at a primal level. These men will succeed, they will get women, and will end up in relationships until the poor girlfriend realises how horrible said person actually is, and leaves with her confidence in tatters.

A phrase often used against men is that we “think with our penises.” Well, get this, a lot of women simply “think with their vaginas.” By going for alpha male dickwads like Rex they are going on nothing more than unfiltered hormones.

Oh relax. I don’t mean it. I just need a girlfriend.

But anyway, I will end on Nicole. While I feel sorry for her treatment at the hands of Rex, she got herself into that situation. She went out with Rex. Too dull to develop a personality, Nicole grabbed at the nearest one she could find – Rex. Any traits of her own she has shown to be all negative ones – she is mean spirited, mocking, spiteful, self absorbed and enjoys the misfortune of others.

Her and Rex deserve each other. It’s a good thing really, that they’ve paired off. They’ve effectively siphoned themselves off from the rest of us, into their own coupley isolation.

The only fear is that they might procreate.

I apologise for this being substandard and shit (Or, depending on your opinion of any other of my scribblings, just shit). My general distaste for the show has manifested itself into a very forced and uninspired rant.

Originally Posted 24 July 2008

It’s funny how a lot of people are so keen to believe in the idea of destiny, that their lives are all planned out ahead of them and that everything they do or everything that happens to them is ‘for a reason.’ Initially this idea would seem appealing to me, I mean, it involves preposterous arrogance in thinking you are in any way significant in the grand scheme of things (and I love preposterous arrogance), but in actual fact the idea of fate actually undermines you as a person.

I mean, sure, it may be comforting to think that mundanities such as going to work some dead-end job every day, or troubling events such as rejection or loss are part of something bigger , something more exciting and rewarding, but really, when you think about it, it isn’t comforting at all. If the universe has plans for you, if everything that happens is pre-determined, then you have no choice over what you do. Move house? Part of the big invisible game of chess you’re a pawn in. Get a pay rise? All part of your life trajectory. Take a shit? Yes, also part of your ‘destiny’. Nothing you do is in your control. Nothing is praiseworthy. Nothing is blameworthy. Nothing is genuine. You are basically a robot following a sequence of pre-programmed events, following a binding track that we call life.

M-isa

Perhaps it is apt, therefore, that Lisa, who has the nasal monotone of some sort of cyborg, was preaching about Mario’s departure the other Friday as ‘the Universe calling him.’ It was his destiny to go, she repeated on and on, trying to delude herself and Mario - not that he would have needed convincing. “Of course. Of course. I’m needed elsewhere. I need to save the world. But these people Just Won’t See It.” But anyway, yes, yes, there was a ‘reason’ you went Mario, but unfortunately that reason was simply that you were an insufferable twat.

Lisa has actually come out of the whole thing quite well. Without Mario and her trading propaganda pieces about each other she has emerged as quite thoughtful and, dare I say it, nice. And just to contradict what I twatted on about in the opening paragraphs, I actually like her for her spiritual and paranormal musings. She genuinely believes in it all. And when she regales the other housemates with tales of haunting or of alien visits, the effect of her dry, boring voice serves only to add an air of authority to her stories, as though she’s reading a business report or a set of minutes from her company’s last meeting. Forget intonation, passion, and animation – cold, hard drabness is how to really tell a story.

The best was her tale of seeing a little green man (I should point out she was not referring to the ill Luke of recent weeks – although I bet he served as a constant hallucinatory reminder of it all). I just like the fact that she’s ended up with Mario, a man so muscled and spray tanned that he is almost the antithesis of this alien form she described. Alien – small, Mario – big. Alien – green, Mario – decidedly orange. Alien – intelligent lifeform...

L-ex

Luke and Bex was the other story of the week. After weeks of flirting the tension broke as the pair kissed after a house party. I should clarify something by flirting. Becky’s levels of subtlety and of social refinement were so crude that her idea of chasing a man was actually read as literal in her head – with the manifestation of her side of the romance largely involved her literally chasing Luke round the garden, looming towards him like a manic, angry housewife, tits flying about everywhere but the vicinity of her chest. Saying that, it was almost endearing. Almost.

While I criticise Becky’s chasing of Luke as being absurdly transparent and obvious, I cannot let Luke get away with his side of things, as to any guy who knows what it’s like to be interested in a girl, his actions will be just as obvious as Becky’s simplified ‘chasing=chasing’ equation.

If his constant play-fighting, teasing, and intelligent posturing weren’t enough, he has made his feelings clear by asking Becky such leading questions as “So Becky, who do you fancy most in the house?” or “If you had to sleep with someone in here to repopulate the planet, who would it be?” As well there’s the constant theme of dating being brought up “Where do you go on first dates?” and “What do you look for in guys.” All the type of questions that are framed so as to seem indirect and disguising of their purpose, which is ultimately to force the person in question to break down, overcome with passion, and scream “Yes! Yes! I love you. Oh, can’t you see. Your innocent questions wheedled out my feelings. And you didn’t even ask Luke, it just happened that I suddenly thought about it all. Oh how cruel love is.” That’s the hope anyway.

I mean sure it’s non-threatening, and in Luke’s clouded yet driven mind it will seem clever enough to slip under the radar, but really it’s the psychological equivalent of turning up at a girl’s house naked, with a condom hanging off your flaccid penis, innocently asking if she wants to ‘hang out.’ Sure, you didn’t explicitly say anything, and sure, you’re trying to get them to read into something, but its painfully transparent.

S-ex

In other flirting news, Sara and Rex have been frequently flirting, but in a way that suggests there is no attraction – but rather a battle going on. “Oh I actually own half of London” Rex would preposterously boast. Sara would coo back flirtily how amazing that was, and how girls must love him. She’d probably give him a playful punch for good measure. Anything for him to change his approach and start liking her – for then she has won.

But not Rex. Although momentarily puzzled by such compliance to his grandiloquent boasting, he will continue blindly along his path of trying to impress, trying to get her to like him, to gain some sort of true recognition for everything he truly is. Again Sara will only respond to this with enthusiastic admiration. It’s like watching two flirt-bots sparring, each inexhaustedly flirting to such virtuoso levels (Rex boasting that he once cooked a meal for 5,000 using just two fish and five loaves of bread, Sara giggling and removing clothes), yet forgetting the whole reasoning for doing so in the first place. The battle had been won long ago, yet they continue the games.

Mikey

I’ve been going on, so I’m going to wrap things up wby attacking a blind man. I am reluctant to criticise Mikey, because given his circumstances, its admirable that he’s as good a person as he is. Call me selfish, but I would probably become a mean spirited bastard of a person given such physical impairment. Well, more of a mean spirited bastard.

However, it does need to be said that Mikey is rather annoying. He has an obsession with noise, and would complain about a pin dropping to a greater extent than even Mario would were said pin dropped in a designated no-shoe area. This, despite the fact that he has a voice like it was intended solely for use by a mad Scottish politician preaching at Speaker’s Corner (read – Gordon Brown*). And he’s close to that noise. It’s coming right out of his cake hole. Right by his ears. I can only assume this goes undetected, what with everything he says clearly being so bloody worthwhile.

The guy’s a bit sleazy too. Some of his comments just seem a little.. uncomfortable. And while Sara encouraged him gratuitously, extending her range of flirting to absolutely everyone in the house, Mikey jumped on board her offer of feeling her clothes by touching every available bit of her body. And who said guys only care about appearances?

Sorry.

Originally Posted 10 July 2008

So, the housemates have spoken. No, this isn’t a news update from “Overcoming Social Shyness Boot Camp” – but from Big Brother, because in fact housemates have done more than just speak. A lot more. They’ve only gone and nominated some poor bastards as well.

Mario and Becky are the ones facing the metaphorical chop (Note to contestants: there is a difference between metaphorical and literal – Sylvia, when Dennis left, you had NOT literally had your heart ripped out) – but what do housemates know? Nothing, that’s what. Look at them there, sitting around, farting, scratching themselves. They probably don’t even know their own names. With this in mind, I am going to help you decide who should go.

To put it simply, both of them have to leave. But to put it even more simply: Becky has to go.

I know it’s tempting to want to be rid of Mario. I mean, if we look at things logically, as he would want us to, he’s a tosser. A real tosser. But he’s a laughable tosser. Watching him can be funny. If you pretend what you see is scripted, and that Mario is just a very good actor, he becomes a bona-fide comedy character. I get a strange thrill out of watching him turn private detective in rooting out fellow housemates’ lies (“She claims to enjoy running marathons, but I haven’t seen her run one single marathon in this house. Makes you think, doesn’t it? She’s probably not even a real woman. Unbelievable!”).

I take some sort of sadistic pleasure in listening to his health and safety lectures. I mean, in yesterday’s show he warned of the dangers of a dropped rubber band on the floor. A rubber band! I mean, rubber is specifically placed on shoes to help them grip things! Bloody hell. If you trip on a rubber band you deserve to injure yourself, or at least hear a 2 hour review of your haphazard lifestyle by Mario.

I even enjoyed hearing him recount Luke with tales of his distinguished career as a postman. This story, incidentally, ended in Mario enigmatically proclaiming he left the job for reasons he is not at liberty to discuss. I’m sure he would have us think that his dismissal involved him swallowing a letter bomb and shitting it out as a health and safety form, but in reality he was probably fired for something more like hiding naked in post-boxes, waiting for someone to come along before somehow flopping his inert penis out of the letter gap. Or something.

In summary, Mario can be made funny. Just. He has been pushing it as of late with his manipulation of Lisa, wo minus Mario is probably a decent person, but we’ll let him off. Anyone who can stand there, looking wistfully into the distance, as if a ‘Nam veteran remembering the horrors of war, repeating the words “Sick Bitch” to himself during a conversation about Belinda, deserves some seerious ‘AT’ (that’s ‘air time’ - if you’re not down with Mario’s lingo).

I should divert here to mention Belinda. Or ‘Belinda Belinda Belinda’ as she keeps calling herself. She walks around announcing this little mantra, and explaining it with the quirky info-titbit that hearing a name three times helps you remember it. OK Belinda, but why share that piece of knowledge with us three times as well? Huh? What happens then? Will we remember that? I keep hoping that every multiple of three in which she says this phrase will slowly be creating some sort of linguistic wormhole which will eventually swallow her up and render her speechless for ever.

It’s not even about the memory really, is it? It’s rampant egotism, that’s what it is. I bet that line of conversation carries on in her head even after she’s managed to suppress it verbally. “Belinda Belinda Belinda Belinda Belinda Belinda..” The outwards expression of this is probably just some form of ego-tourettes. I bet even her oft-discussed snoring is probably some form of nocturnal attention seeking.

From one tedious idiot to another, and simultaneously back to my main point: Becky - she should go. She’s annoying, ignorant, loud, sulky, shallow and cruel. That may sound harsh of me, but hey, even she agrees. Left alone in ‘prison’ by herself for 5 hours she was going mad and screaming to be let out, in some futile attempt to escape from herself and her own company. She even kicked in a mirror, angry at it, so so angry at it, for it is after all a constant reminder to her of her own pitiful existence.

I do wonder about mirrors. Shouldn’t good looking people have to pay more for them? You’d pay more money for pictures of more attractive people, so why not reflections. That’s probably really shallow of me. Still, could be something to exploit. I could sell mirrors on eBay as narcissism porn. Some vain lowlifes will probably buy them. So long as I can bear to be rid of them, it's a winner.

Becky needs to go. Soon. I mean, she’s made me tolerate Mario. That’s worrying. Mario's clearly not even laughable. I'm as deluded as him. Evict her, evict her now. I’m warning you. If she’s still here next week, expect a long and thought provoking blog on why Alex was a lovely person. I’ll mean it as well. With Becky as a benchmark, everyone will come off well. It’s up to you. Becky leaves, or my sanity does. You decide.

Originally Posted 3rd July 2008

Another week, another housemate kicked out for disgusting, disgraceful behaviour, the type of which left viewers and fellow housemates with an understandably nasty taste in their mouth – one which they probably wanted to spit out and be done with. Yes, last week things escalated beyond all civility and common decency, and Sylvia was voted out.

Oh, Dennis got chucked out too, but we’ll come onto that later.

Sylvia

I never really liked Sylvia, despite her being pretty (this makes me some kind of saint yeah? Or at least a sympathetic feminist? No?). I think it’s her name. Just hearing it conjures up Cruella De Ville-imagery in my head - maybe it’s because it seems such a ssslimy name, all snakelike and devious with it’s evil S’s and V’s. If I was a halfway respectable writer I’d research the origins of its phonetic and etymological shortcomings, but I am not, so instead I will leave you to ponder the fact that in the Harry Potter series, the school house that all the evil wizards fall into is called ‘Slytherin.’ Slytherin.... Sylvia... pretty much the same word when you think about it. Actually, don't think about it too hard, but it is pretty much the same word. If that is not proof of Sylvia being a terrible terrible person, I don’t know what is.

Actually, thinking about it properly, it's probably laced with negativity because the word 'sly' is anagrammed in there; as is 'vile' if you try hard enough. I bet dyslexics across the country have an absolutely irrational hatred of the woman without ever quite knowing why.

The Fight

The main drama this week though was, as mentioned, Thursday night's fight. All started over Rex messing with Jennifer’s picture of Stuart. Actually, no, that’s an injustice. It all started with Jennifer, pure and simple. The painting is, as Mohamed found to his cost, irrelevant. The whole thing purely started because Jen needed some attention.

Official BB columnist Grace Dent speculated that Jen only harboured such resentment to Rex because he committed the crime of not fancying her. Simple as that. It makes sense, Jen, as sophisticated and ‘above it’ as she thinks she is, loves nothing more than leading on her fawning army of drooling boys just to reinforce her already healthy ego. Although she knocks Dale back frequently, she will also shamelessly lead him on.

“What would you do if I go Dale?”
“I dunno.”
“Would you be upset?”
“I dunno, it’s not worth thinking about.”
“No, but would you be upset?”
“Let’s not think about it, I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Noo, but let’s say you had to.”
“Yeah I’d be devastated”
“Awwww, that’s such a sweet thing to say. Aww… Now leave me alone. I have a kid don’t you know, and I don't think you're ready enough, old enough, or good looking enough to bring him up.”

With this in mind, it does add up that without such attention you would not be in Jen’s good books. Hey, she’s the only person so far to nominate Mikey. Sure, she said it was down to his outspoken and sometimes misogynisitc opinions, but tell the truth Jen. It's cos he's blind isn't it? It's cos he's blind and he will never, ever fancy you.

Anyway, she was clearly to blame for the whole thing, and to see her huddled around afterwards, her and Sylvia crying together like some sort of war refugees, sniping at the likes of Rex and Darnell was just despicable. She’ll be going this week.

Hair

The thing is though, even though he was innocent in the big argument, I hate Mohamed too. He’s a buffoon. He strolls around giggling and guffawing at childishly inane things. He has a schoolground mentality; the type of person who causes ill-judged mischief in an attempt to pass his nervous and insecure giddiness onto others. Draw a crude picture of a pair of breasts on a wall and he’d be transfixed for hours chortling to himself. Maybe he’s just simple – maybe his brain powers are being diverted away to somehow support his bouffant hairstyle.

In fact, what is it with that haircut? It’s a paradigmatic example of ‘wacky’ and ‘zany’. Maybe even ‘bombastic,’ a word so utterly reprehensible I can’t even hear it without being a little sick in my mouth. But yes, Mo’s afro is something people who would describe themselves as ‘random’ would sport. You know the type? You must do. Go on, have a think, you must have met them – yes, yep – that’s right - dickheads. Spot on. The sort of people who spell crazy as ‘kerrrazzzyyy,’ or party as ‘partaayyyy.’ The sort of people who’s favourite letter of the alphabet would be ‘z,’ because it’s so fucking out there.

I’m not sure if Mohamed actually said this, or if I imagined it in some nightmarish dream sequence, but here’s a quote I want to share anyway: “I only have a big haircut because of my big personality.”

No. No, no no. No. Mohamed, in actual fact, you only have a personality because of your fucking haircut. You are really totally, totally bland. Your haircut is an excuse, an excuse for having nothing else. It’s an illusion, an illusion that can only fool the type of people who watch and enjoy The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The type of people who just lurrvve fancy dress. The type of people who have no brain.

It reminds me of another of this year’s reality TV bunch, this time Lucinda from BBC One’s The Apprentice. Notable for the fact that she often wore an ensemble of clothes so bright that even Mario’s skin cells would tut to themselves and look upon them as exuberant, she trotted around proudly in her rap-trap, haphazard outfits with the confidence of a woman who thought she was really breaking conventions and letting her individuality shine.

One particular moment stuck in my head though. In a mock interview, she was questioned about her unusual fashion, and she said “I just think it’s important to recognise that you can have a personality and work in business.” A fair point, but you’re missing the point Lucinda. You're really really missing the point. What she should realise is that you can have a personality without dressing in bright clothes. It’s so obvious! I mean, what are these people, fucking bees? Bright colours are not all there is to life.

Nor is big hair. If I wanted to see something like that, I’d go and look at a hedge. At least I wouldn’t risk being distracted by an imbecilic brain hovering somewhere beneath it muttering vague philosophies about “life going on” every ten minutes.

Best of the Rest

This is the problem, there are close to zero likable housemates in this years Big Brother. Kathreya, despite her innocent and exuberant charm, is actually just a simple, idiotic, Cabbage Patch doll. Rachel is relentlessly upbeat. I imagine living with her is like being tied to a bed for two weeks forced to watch Barney the Dinosaur and friends hop about singing jolly songs about friendship and love. I won’t go into the others for now; but basically, this year’s show has often left me in the strange position where I watch arguments unfold and actively disagree with both sides put forward.

Still, it’s not all doom and gloom. Mario and Lisa are amusing to watch. They’re either a carefully orchestrated piece of satire or just completely deluded. Either way I enjoy watching them. Dale has shown glimpses of likability, he just fell in with the wrong crowd. Luke as well has (or had) potential, but I think he may have turned to the dark side for good now, despite his name.

By far the best though, is Darnell. Darnell seems to be a voice of reason in the house, a genuinely positive soul who just wants to see the world a better place. He lumbers around like a man operated by a clumsy yet earnest puppeteer, offering his well thought out and often funny opinions on other housemates. In one rant he casually summarised two housemates brilliantly.

“I mean, we all have our individual things, you know, I mean, Kat has her cookie thing, Bex, you have.. you have.. your tits, or whatever..”

Not sure why I loved that so much. Maybe because Becky, who he was talking to, didn’t object. Deep down, she knows that’s all she does have. Her big, ridiculous breasts. She seems proud of them, but to me they only reinforce the image of her as some sort of cartoon cow.

Sorry. I wouldn’t usually be so harsh on someone’s appearance, but Becky is a reprehensible character. Hateful, nasty, spiteful, vindictive, simple, ignorant – she deserves everything she gets in life. Everything bad that is. She doesn’t deserve the good stuff. I hope she’s nominated next week, and finally we can send this angry young woman back to Coventry.

Originally posted 26 June 2008

So, where to start? If that is, as I predict, a purely rhetorical question (if I am the only one reading it, it can be nothing but), then the answer to myself would be at the start of the fucking series. Seriously, I should have kept up from the start. It just takes me a while to admit to myself that I do actually like the show. It's like squaring up to eating your 9th muffin in a row. You're not really sure if you want to, you definitely don't need to, but you are slowly and strangely drawn towards doing so - all the while aware of the impending onslaught of severe nausea and regret.

Still, it's been interesting, mainly due to the behaviour of Most Annoying Housemate Ever Alex, a 23 year old single mother from Croyden, whose face is three parts pure unbridled anger to one part Jar Jar Binks. Interesting yes - but if we continue the muffin analogy, it is interesting in the "who'd-have-thought-they'd-put-shredded-glass-in-a-muffin" kind of way.

In the first week over 500 complaints were sent to Ofcom about her bullying behaviour. Of course, bullying is what official reports say, but I somehow imagine people were ringing up because Alex was just that damn irritating.

And irritating she was. So angry that she probably argues with her own eyes for 'looking at her the wrong way' everytime she blinked, when Alex got going she was a human manifestation of a hangover, giving viewers the puzzling and paradoxical effects of an all body headache.

This will be what prompted complaints. Basically, I do not think the British public are compassionate enough to ring in to complain about bullying. Why would they care if Rebecca from Coventry was getting a verbal battering for not being able to cook chips? They probably agree. I mean, fancy not being able to cook chips eh?

Viewers simply wanted Alex off their screens, and being too bloody stupid to do something like, I don’t know, like changing channels, they rang in to complain. Ofcom, an industry watchdog, became nothing more than a premium rate “eviction” phone line used to get rid of an unwanted housemate. It's like going to the police to complain that Andy from The White Horse doesn't fancy you, or ringing the Queen to get her to sort something out about your wife's awful cooking. Ridiculous behaviour.

Eventually Alex’s intimidating behaviour and bullying did get her kicked out, after she made references to gang violence being inflicted on fellow housemates’ families when she left the house. Obviously Channel 4 took the sensible option here and let her bloody well get on with it. “What’s that, you want to leave so you can commit some horrific crimes? That’s the final straw young lady, you’re leaving!”

But in all seriousness, it must have been a tough decision for channel 4. In the past hate figures such as last year’s Charley Urchea remained in the house for an improbable length of time due to coincidental twists to the series’ rules and timetabling. However, the craning of the necks to observe with morbid curiosity this incarnate car crash became too much when it transpired that you actually started to feel like you were indeed the one trapped under the wreckage of twisted metal and melting plastic,

What else is there to say? In the first week Mario and Stephanie had to convince other housemates they were a couple (with the compliance of Luke and Lisa, who were in on the task). Stephanie found the task challenging, whereas Mario surprisingly coped with it OK. “We’re probably going to have to sleep with each other, you know, for realism.”

In the end, fellow housemates correctly sussed out that they were lying, and the conspirators all faced eviction in that first week. I think this is a little unfair. Housemates are so damn conspiratorial that I don’t think suspecting the coupling was engineered to be that much of an achievement. Eager to appear canny and one step ahead, housemates speculate on BBs motives and games so frequently they make David Ike look like an unquestioning, subservient conservative.

On the first night Mohamed questioned to Darnell whether Lisa was a man, a move so blindingly childish and guffawish that he will forever be condemned as an idiot in my mind. As soon as that was guessed, any further theories should not have counted as valid. Anyone can guess a twist if they throw enough scenarios around.

If in week 8 BB announced that reality itself was a fictional construct, and that all the contestants were no more than a figment of Pete Doherty’s heroin addled imagination, then Dennis or someone would proudly announce, “See! I told you! I said it all along! Remember? Remember, on day 9 I said this was probably the case. Remember? Right before Jennifer predicted that everyone but her was a mole employed by Beadle’s About to make her look st-Upid.”

Anyway, they technically lost, and Steph ended up going. Lisa should have gone. Despite showing a promising start, Mario, along with her, have descended into quite unlikable housemates, babbling on about either their workout routines, their distinguished managerial roles, or the fact that Mikey’s blind.

Watching Mario in the diary room is unintentionally hilarious, and highlights this perfectly. So many words yet such little content – he’s like a corporate edition action man doll, whos omehow found himself on Big Brother while wondering the corridors of reality TV looking for The Apprentice. Consider this; when nominating Alex for eviction, he goes “She’s very two faced, which is a trait I do not like at all... in a person.” In a person? In a person??? Oh, good, Mario, thanks for clarifying that, I wasn’t sure what you meant. In a person? Yeah? Good. Glad that’s sorted. I mean, seriously, what is it a good trait in? A shared blow up doll perhaps, but not much else. Idiot.

Sometimes when I see a person I get a vague idea of a resemblance in my head, that is so far-fetched it can simply appear to be early signs of a breakdown. For instance, I am adamant that England manager Fabio Capello looks like a cartoon bear, and that Barcelona and Portugal midfielder Deco could do a good sideline in pretending to be a tomato (not that he’s red or round faced – it’s far more subtle and inexplicable than that). So here’s my new one, it may seem crazy, but on the off chance it works and someone believes me it will be great. Mario is, or at least somehow resembles, a centaur. I’m not sure how or why, but he does. Trust me, and look out for it.

Maybe I’m being harsh on Mario. His heart is in the right place, it’s just been frazzled by years of conferences and health and safety seminars. Not to worry anyway, he’s been very successful in his life, and he has a big fan club behind him, so I imagine any criticism to him can simply be shrugged off with the knowing smile of a man who’s been on Ant and Dec.

Posted Weds 25 June 2008

Many people may consider Big Brother asinine, insipid and devoid of worth... actually so do I. This is a good thing, however, as it perfectly lends itself to elitist put-downs and sardonic quips, which serves to fuel my superiority complex as well as maybe creating the illusion of intelligence. I actually did a Big Brother blog a little at the end of last year’s run which was probably read by me and maybe my Mum. I won’t be providing a link as I don’t anticipate anyone will care to read it, and also I plan to copy wholesale vast passages from it.

Actually, probably lifting sections from last year’s write up wouldn’t be considered too far amiss, given that the show seems to have kicked off in a similar fashion to previous series.

We had the needlessly long opening show, in which we are introduced to the housemates, and watch them go into the house. I just don’t enjoy this. If I wanted to watch a bunch of preening tossers enter a building, I’d go down to the local nightclub. Of course we get the introductory VTs showing clips from the housemates’ auditions, but in reality these don’t tell us anything about who or what the housemates turn into.

All we actually learn about is Big Brother’s cynical and tacky selection process. If you were watching the opening show with a friend, convincing them that they should give it a go (as it is, of course, a valuable psychological experiment), by the time Mario and Lisa had introduced themselves you’d be lucky if they simply looked at you as some sort of deranged sex offender.

Sex. Arguments. Beauty. Arrogance. Quirkiness. Just a fucking huge, ridiculous pair of breasts. These are all traits advertised by competitors. Would be housemates are in the strange position where they have to paint themselves as desperately unlikable individuals in order to get through. Endemol are just aiming to provide cheap thrills and trivial titillation, and their intentions are never more transparent then in these clips.

“Dawn, 24, is a fashion model from Croyden. She loves underwear, men and singing, and hates asylum seekers, boring people and snakes.”

“Next up is Mohammed, 29, an asylum seeker from Luton. He loves being boring and impersonating a snake. He hates people whose name begins with a ‘D,’ and spiders."

“Our third housemate is Zavi, from South America. He is, well, a big fucking spider..”
And so on.

But, of course, I love it. I am drawn in every year by the sheer entertainment value, not to mention the gratuitous nudity. But by showing the selection process, Big Brother is making explicit the implicit. It’s like if the Conservative Party started issuing statements proclaiming, “We only care about ourselves” or if Nigella Lawson started cooking naked. We all know why we’re here, so why remind us? Such a move by Channel 4 to make a feature of this can only be a subtle message channelled from God, reminding us that we are actually Bad People.

As I said, despite all this, we don’t actually learn anything about the housemates. They may all proclaim to be argumentative, sex mad, or to have a personality, but soon after they enter it becomes clear that they are none of the above. For instance, this year’s Dale declared brazenly “If there’s any pussy in the house, I’m going to nail it - especially if it’s good looking,” clearly setting himself to be an absolute shit-rag (albeit one who is sensitive enough not to place too much importance on looks, bless him). However, apart from being a little boring, and excessively using the word ‘like,’ Dale seems likable enough. Big Brother must be so, so angry. “But you promised you were a cock!” they must be screaming at him. Housemates should be made to sign some sort of ‘dickhead contract’ before they go in, guaranteeing that they are actually scum of the earth, as they advertise. Either that or they should be seen pushing over an elderly lady – something like that – just as a guarantee. Hell, film it and show at the opening show – it’d be a damn site more exciting than the dross we’re offered.

As it is, next year will likely just be exactly the same. There is a 50% likelihood of Davina being pregnant, but other than that there are no real variables. Still, I’m sure the show will shape up to be as good as ever. All this ranting is some sort of defence mechanism – some sort of attempt at a moral disclaimer justifying my impending waste of summer. So, just like the housemates, I have set myself up with a totally unrepresentative and contradictory opener. Shit.