It unsurprisingly focusses mainly on student life in Nottingham, but also covers wider ranging issues such as.. err.. student life in places other than Nottingham.

Read it. You will enjoy it. If you don't it's either because you're too stupid to understand it or because you're wrong about most things. I don't mean that. I think I love you.

As ideas and invention are notoriously finite, new writers are encouraged and indeed begged for. Any feedback is also appreciated.

Issue 4 - March 2009 - http://www.blog.co.uk/media/document/issue04/3327764

Issue 3 - February 2009 - http://www.blog.co.uk/media/document/issue03/3205058

Issue 2 - December 2008 - http://www.blog.co.uk/media/document/issue02/3079521

Issue 1 - November 2008 - http://www.blog.co.uk/media/document/issue01/3079520

Comments

I don't mean that. You're all lovely.

To get you up to speed, I have pretentiously labelled it a satirical and subversive student magazine, because that is what I wanted it to be. Still, hopefully it has something for everyone.

Please have a look:

Issue 2

NB: For those outside the small circle that is Nottingham University, I should point out:

Cock-Soc is a student run 'cocktail society' which in actualy fact has nothing to do with cocktails, but instead organises cheap nights out at shitty nightclubs where drinking is encouraged and seemingly required to have a good time
LGBT - is the Lesbian, Gay, Bi and Transgender society
Craig Cox - is a student union executive who recently was the subject of controversy for holding a sign saying 'bring back slavery' at a training event. He has denied it was in any way racist.
Rahs - are 'rich arseholes' - a clique of students who many perceive to be suer rich and unashamedly upper-middle class.

The rest should be self evident.

Comments are appreciated.
I'm so lonely.

Comments

Having recently realised there is a world outside of Big Brother, I have started writing about it.

This is an unofficial student magazine I create, publish and distribute (unsuccessfully) at my university, The University Of Nottingham. A lot of it is quite specific to the uni culture but don't be put off, there's something for everyone.

I say everyone - you probably wouldn't like it. Yes, you.

This is the first issue, from the start of November. To help you on your way, I should point out that Impact is the official student magazine, whose triteness inspired me to create my own publication. Coc-Soc is a society, 'cocktail society' which in fact has nothing to do with cocktails - it's just a society that arranges club nights and encourages everyone to get absolutely pissed. Initiation ceremonies were highlighted because there is often controversy over the way sport teams inaugerate new members in alcohol fuelled frenzies of debauchery.

Quotability is a feature from the official mag, in which they congratualte themselves on funny things they've said in the magazine offices in the past month. I thought I would celebrate things they've actually said in the magazine, fo I think that is actually funnier.

Issue 01

Comments

As mentioned though, it was Rachel, a lifeless computer game character version of 'niceness,' who won the show. A genuinely sweet, caring and warm individual, it is hard to begrudge her victory, or indeed to hate her. However, I have somehow found myself doing both. Rachel was just the televisual equivalent of white noise, the appearance of her on screen immediately switched off something in my brain; namely consciousness.

Still, it was a victory for positivity and compassion, and I preferred Rachel winning to Kat, her compatriot in all things saccharine sweet. Kat, a crudely created balloon figure made by a manic, drunk childrens' entertainer, spent her time in the house strolling around in her Aladdin trousers, offering little more than sub-standard Little Britain style catchphrases, or vague pieces of advice or sentiment which contained all the insight and profundity of a greeting card.

Despite spinning herself as a positive, sweet character, I was part of the camp who considered Kat to be a self absorbed and hypocritical show-off. Her tolerance of Rex throughout the show (despite his relentless bullying of her best mate Rachel), her manipulation of others to get her own way (she shaped housemates' opinions in order that she keep her friends in the final) and her understated yet fundamental presumption of popularity (in a surprise eviction she begged BB not to take away and of her friends, little suspecting she herself may possibly go) - in my mind outweighed the short-lived, simplistic, and vaguely racist laughs garnered from the hilarity of her poor pronunciation of the English language. Hell, let's get someone with a genuine speech impediment on next year and we'll all have a chuckle at that - ha ha. Really. Who likes that sort of thing? HA HA HA. Ha.

So yes, maybe Rachel was a deserving winner. Better her than Rex (oppressively dislikable - see any episode from this series), or even Darnell, who showed towards the end of the show a rather nasty misogynistic streak. And if Mikey had won then well, the fireworks would have been inappropriate at best.

A small part of me however, did want Sara to win (unfortunately that'd be my penis). Her attractiveness, her wide eyed amazement at anything and everything, and her flirtatious behaviour are exactly the subservient traits I look for in a potential partner.

Please - I'm kidding. My penis is actually massive.

But really, Sara was nice - and nice in the interesting way. She was kind, positive, and had a certain spark to her. As well she was responsible for one of the best moments of the series - choosing to share a fifty thousand pound prize fund with the equally interesting and likable Lisa - in a version of the Prisoners' Dilemma game, in which two players - actually just look it up yourselves - what am I - your slave?

NB: If any newspapers are interested - I work for a very competitive rate.

The other big story of the last fortnight (one place above Mohamed blowing off to the tune of Beyoncé's Crazy In Love*) was Mario's return to the house to propose to Lisa. Having just been talking about the pair's romantic meeting in a car park (some cover story about a purchased eBay item - but a tenner says they were dogging), when Mario appeared in the garden outside, ring in hand, it was obvious that the universe was calling the pair towards years of conjugal bliss.

Lisa accepted Mario's 'unique and different' engagement, and it made for a jolly nice episode. Watching housemates celebrating to the colour-blind tribute to Mario's skin tone - EverGreen by Will Young - was pretty much as close to a live-action montage of housemate 'good times' that you're likely to get. Still, it was slightly disconcerting later on watching Lisa slow-dancing with a cardboard cut-out of Mario which Big Brother had provided housemates with. It was like seeing footage of a serial killer/ fantasist fuelling their celebrity obsession by holding a wedding ceremony with the life size version of their current affections.

Incidentally - did anyone notice that said cut-out was very pale and faded? Maybe the printers received the final proof image, and had to reset the machines' brightness and saturation levels in order to correct the obvious mistake of sending an image with clearly poorly calibrated skin tones. I can see it now: "Fuck me Jim.. the machines are malfunctioning.. it's all gone.. orange. Abort! Abort!"

Unregrettably, it is here I shall end things. If you have only been half-watching the series, as I imagine even the most ardent fan will have been, I recommend watching the best bits compilation - now available from a cursory search on YouTube. These collections are always the highlight of the show - in fact one of the main reasons I sit through the series is that I can have some sort of emotional investment in these montages.

It doesn't even need to be a popular entertainment show like Big Brother that can be poetically summarised in the medium of montage. I still maintain that if you had footage of anything - for instance some sad cases dejectedly masturbating into a bin in a futile display of virility - so long as you added some emotional music and made it into slow motion you'd have an epic bit of cinematography.

Actually, if I'm going to end like I started, with an analogy, that is inadvertently probably the best comparison to the show I could ever wish to make. Not sure how, but think about it hard enough and it is almost poetic.

-----
Thank you all for (not) reading. Given the literacy rate of most Big brother watchers is likely about 10%, I am honoured that at lest seven people have stopped by. Now fuck off.

Sorry, that is rather like the teacher who bollocks the half empty class for everyone elses' poor attendance. I'm fighting the wrong people. I love you all really.

-----
*May not have happened. I can't even remember.

Comments

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.

Comments

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.

Comments

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.

Comments

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.

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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.

Comments

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.

Comments

Last week, under the pretence of a shopping task, housemates were given extensive training on “How to be Posh.”

The task didn’t sit well with some housemates from the offset. Tracey was particularly upset by the whole thing. As soon as the music on the task’s instructional VT started playing, a quaint classical piece designed to back the visual sight of what may or may not have been Ziggy’s mother offering etiquette advice, Tracey exclaimed, “This music is so monotonous man.” This was not all she had to say, however. Later, when Big Brother piped in some light jazz number to practice dancing to, she complained, “How are people supposed to dance to this?” This from the woman who spends her time outside the house listening to techno music.

The idea of speaking Standard English using Received Pronunciation also upset Tracey, clearly clashing with her raver ideals. To put shackles on her language was tantamount to putting shackles on her thoughts, her very essence of being. The whole thing was an prognostic of Britain’s growing class war, a war she, as a free spirit, would not enter into. We also can’t ignore the fact that generic 80’s catchphrases just don’t have the same ring to them when fully enunciated, and Tracey was damned if she was going to start forming proper sentences containing genuine thoughts, meanings or content.

Davina touched on this issue in Tracey’s interview after her eviction on Friday. Clearly Davina had been watching Tracey throughout the series with a great deal of interest and intrigue, and had been very much looking forward to her interview so that she could really probe Tracey, understand what really made her tick and the like.

“Now forgive me if I’m wrong Tracey, but I’ve been watching you a lot, and I’m just wondering why you keep coming back to these catchphrases of yours. Now we did all love them and enjoy them, but a part of me wonders why you used them so often? I may be wrong, but is your constant retreat to these some sort of defence mechanism? Maybe you don’t want to let people in, let people see the real you? Maybe you were abused as a child, I don’t know.

I’m just speculating here, but it seems that deep down you’re really insecure, and these phrases are part of an elaborately constructed shield you hold up to prevent any possible chance of rejection of your true self, of the true Tracey? I mean, sorry if that seems… but, does that in any way make sense.”

“Yeah man, Gravy”

No tears, no confessions, no hint at an upcoming period of intensive soul searching. Nothing. Poor Davina, such a question was wasted on Tracey. At least she got the tone right with Kara Louise, the other evictee. The interview basically consisted of a simple shrug aimed in Kara Louise’s general direction, a gesture correctly gauging the level of interest the public had in Kara-Louise’s post experience analysis.

Despite the loss of the literal beacon of Big Brother’s multi-cultural ethos (“New, to the acceptance range, Kara Louise! One person, two skin tones!”), as well as the failed attempt at finding the female Pete “BB7” Bennet, the house is still very much crowded at this late stage of the game.

There are seven people left, surely too many to leave until the final night? I suggest a truly random eviction. Big Brother should ask one housemate to come to the diary room, with whoever answering the call being unceremoniously shown out of the back door. Actually, this would have been good throughout the show. It would be a type of natural selection, wheedling out the biggest attention seekers and screen time seekers.

Either that, or Liam et al should continue Thursday night’s theme of haggling with Big Brother.

“We’ll make you a deal. A takeaway pizza in exchange for…hmmm… Carole.”

Please.

Comments

After a day of strolling around in what can only be described as the wardrobe equivalent of Kara’s forehead, Gerry was voted out by the public and his fellow guru housemates. Only he wasn’t. Well, not really. Not technically.

When guru’s were told to get rid of one of the two most voted housemates that week, Carole or Gerry, the Greek art historian quickly calculated the best way to save face in what would inevitably be his final moments in the house. He blubbered, “Keep Carole, I want Carole to win,” or various other permutations of this sentiment, in order to make the choice easier for the gurus. However, as Gerry was going to have been nominated by all 3 gurus anyway, it was more a case of “You can’t fire me, I quit,” than a selfless act. His raised arm acknowledgement to Tracey’s vote against him, gestured almost as a thank you to her for heeding his request, was the embodiment of this pathetic ploy by Gerry. Tracey would have voted him out even if it had it been him against someone truly detestable, like Carole. Oh, hold on. What I’m trying to say is that she hated him and would have voted him out anyway.

The reaction from the crowd was surprisingly positive towards Gerry, especially considering he has after all been a total arse.

Upon hearing his positive public reception, housemates burst into their own cheers, running round and hugging each other. “Yes! The lying shit’s gone forever,” Tracey could be heard saying over the rabble, somewhat missing the point of the celebrations.

Actually, I made that up, but it would have been good.

It is weird that when an unpopular housemate is evicted there is booing in the crowd. Surely they should be happy to be seeing the end of them? By booing they are almost mourning the loss of such a housemate. I can only assume this is the logic Charley employed when she came to the conclusion that she wasn’t one of the most hated housemates ever.

Amanda told Brian today that she sees him purely as a good friend, and doesn’t want any romance. As evident as this was to anyone with the slightest hint of social perspicacity, and Tracey, Amanda still bungled her way through the conversation as though it was going to be a taboo, awkward and unexpected confession. “It’s just that, like, I went to the Diary Room, and I was like, y’know, oh gawd this is soooo cringe! But like you’re a dead dead dead dead good mate, and we get on really well, and well, what I was like in the diary room, was like...”

Probably the last time she’ll go to Ziggy for relationship advice.

Comments

Carole has been at the centre of all things argumentative these past two days. She is living in some medieval fantasy where hierarchy comes from age. By having lived the longest of the housemates, she knows best. About everything.

Most arguments occur when housemates get annoyed with her authoritarian control of the kitchen, house, and indeed their thoughts and actions. For someone who strongly opposes fascism, she’s remarkably dictatorial. Just watching her squirm as Kara tried to whisk an egg was beautiful. Her hands kept raising up to snatch at the whisk, just ready to scream:

“No no! You do it like this you silly girl. Look how good I do it. Look how effective I am at all things domestic. Nurse on my ridiculous bosom. No, no, there’s no need to apologise Kara. Or cry. Come on, breathe deeply, just breathe, come on, no, it’ll all be over soon, just breathe. Seriously Kara, just take some fucking air in, what’s wrong with you?!”

Sorry, again I’m straying. In the lie detector test it was confirmed that Carole liked acting as the mother of the house, as if we didn’t know that already from her self satisfied announcements of exactly what housework she’s achieved every 15 minutes.

If this is the case, if she does enjoy it, why does she constantly grumble about having to do everything herself? Why does she moan about other housemates’ lack of help? Why does she consider Ziggy’s reluctance to clean the windows an indication of Britain’s growing decline into anarchy and barbarianism? She enjoys doing it all, so it tends to get left to her. If other housemates attempt to help she either meddles to the point of their frustration or indeed just takes over.

Let’s just get her out, watch some whimsical compilation of all her amusingly quirky cleaning habits, and be done with it.

Another thing about Carole, which has been picked up on before; she thinks she knows everything. She thinks she can predict Big Brother down to a tee. To be fair, this delusion was probably reinforced as the weeks have gone by, as housemates have displayed awe at her correct predictions. “Wow, Carole always said Pooh was a fake housemate,” Charley, another streetwise thinker would say. Carole would respond to this praise with a wave of the hand and a wry chuckle; such clairvoyance is all part of a days work to her, and the sooner those kids understood exactly how wise, sharp and world-weary she was the better.

However, what we are ignoring is the fact that Carole makes predictions about anything and everything, with probably a 5% success rate. Just yesterday, when Gerry confirmed he had a game plan in the Diary Room, she said “Oh I know what he’s doing, he’s… oh.” Her canny assumption (I guess she was expecting Gerry to have purposefully manipulated his answer to be a lie) was cut short when it transpired he was being truthful. This is one example of many.

Today she predicted she would be leaving on Friday. Let’s hope with this prediction, she’s right.

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I don’t actually mean that, I just thought it’d make me sound sardonic and satirical; because of course looking down on Big Brother is what truly intelligent people do.

Once again Gerry stood out the most for me tonight. He is just so frustratingly annoying. He once again turned self-analytical today, reducing himself to tears as he really got to the root of all his problems. Apparently he just keeps pushing himself too hard in life, to exhausting and unsustainable levels. “One degree wasn’t enough, so I had to get two.”

Two thousand men wasn’t enough, he had to get three.

But seriously Gerry, get over yourself. You’re part of a growing epidemic of people who’ve grown up being told to value their inner feelings, and to really get to the bottom of what defines them as a person. And of people who’ve watched too much Oprah.

All this psycho-analytical bullshit is not constructive. At best it’s self indulgent, and at worst it’s lazy and a way of finding excuses for yourself. “Oh, I know I flew off the handle there, and it was out of order, but it’s because I’ve realised I have some deep seated anger issues.” By making everything about ourselves seemingly so complex and deep, we are assigning the blame for our unacceptable behaviours to something out of our control, when it actually is controllable – if we want it to be. To let yourself get angry and then to put it down to a fundamental part of your character, or the fact that you weren’t allowed chocolate more than once a week as a kid - it's selfish and idle. And to call this insight in others the mark of a sensitive, perceptive and intelligent soul – please. It’s armchair psychology for the pseudo-intellect

Sorry, I’m straying from the point, this isn’t the time or place for me to be preaching the fundamentals of my new religion (seemingly based largely on denying people the rights to emotions). In Big Brother we still trust.

In other news, the political activist in Carole kicked in today when she refused to go to the Diary Room when called. “Piss off,” we saw her prone, beached figure yell from bed. “You can show this as well, fuck off.” How George Bush stood up to the likes of Carole and went ahead with the war amazes me. It can’t have been anything to do with Carole’s lack of concisely formed arguments, for we saw today that she can put her point across in a reasonable and balanced manner. It also isn't likely to be the fact that any form of vitriolic display promptly reduces her to tears either, as she is a strong and canny woman don't you know.

I can only assume that it's because she has trouble walking when her feet are playing up.

Comments

Gerry of course looked upon this whole challenge the most eagerly, again keen to prove to everyone that his is indeed the most intelligent housemate ever. I feel for Gerry sometimes. He is smug, arrogant and pretentious, but people have realised this. Liam, Brian and Ziggy all invariably like mocking his delusions of grandeur; and today Brian claimed early on in the show that Big Brother had told him that he had come top in the tests.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, well done, I’m glad,” Gerry said, in a style imitable of a housemate who has just been evicted. To confirm this feeling of fine-ness, Gerry pointed out that he had previously said Brian was cleverer than he is often perceived anyway. “I said last week he is very intelligent otherwise he wouldn’t be here.” Now Gerry, I may be wrong, but I don’t ever remember a time when intelligence has ever been a pre-requisite for entry into the Big Brother house.

Of course Gerry, psycho-analyst and philosopher Gerry, probably meant that to get on Big Brother you had to have certain unique qualities which constitute intelligence. In theory I agree, and I respect Gerry for not conforming to traditional notions of academia equalling intelligence. However, by subscribing to the “we are unique souls chosen for our special characters and personalities,” he is ignoring the fact that Big Brother has, in recent years, become nothing more than a freak show. It is not a talent show spotting individuals who have something special and interesting to give to the public. It is a mix of stereotypes and, well, freaks.

This is the problem with Big Brother. The makers assume we all want more. More sex! More fights! More romances! More dramas! Is this really the case though?. Sure, the Charleys and Shanessas will get people talking, but they won’t keep people switched on. We need sympathetic characters, such as Glynn or Pete from BB7. People who you tune in to see how they’re doing. Watching people like Charley is strangely compulsive, yet is not enough of a draw to keep people hooked. Look back to the earlier series for inspiration, where you did not have to rely on mentally unstable individuals and fancy dress tasks everyday. Restore some normality to proceedings, keep things simple, learn from the past.

Now, what did they do with that time machine?

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They did touch upon an interesting area tonight though, the relationship or non-relationship between Amanda and Brian. I’m of the opinion that Amanda is simply too nice to tell Brian that she doesn’t like him in the same way - I can just see the wedding now; “Oh it would just be awkward if I said anything after all this fuss!” The psychologist analysing the relationship did however spot several signs contradicting me. She pointed out that in Brian’s company, even post-kiss, Amanda was very happy. Personally I think that’s kind of a moot point, I don’t know if either of the twins actually experience moments of unhappiness. If she looked glum in Brian’s company he should be seriously worried.

Secondly, she was noting the eye contact that Amanda was making with Brian. She pointed out the fact that her pupils were dilated, which apparently is a clear indication of loving feelings. Or indeed the fact that you’re looking at something dark.

That’s terrible actually. Is that racist? Hopefully not, although it would probably be enough to get me thrown out of the BB house the way things are this year. Apologies if anyone’s offended.

Love, or more likely lust, was abundant in the house today. As Ziggy poetically put it, “People are gagging for it in here.”

Ziggy was in fact involved in the other romantic plotline of the night’ when a drunken Tracey clambered into his bed, telling him to snuggle up to her. Ziggy refused, claiming that after weeks of loneliness, such intimacy would likely cause him too much sexual excitement, which would be an embarrassing situation for all. Tracey pressed on however, and Ziggy confessed to the diary room the next morning that she was putting “hands and fingers places they haven’t been before.” Fingers? Hands is pretty self explanatory, but the mention of fingers raises a lot of questions. Poor Ziggy.

To cool the situation down, Ziggy’s solution was to drag Carole from the living area into his bed, in between the pair of them. I liked the idea of Carole as some sort of anti-eroticism shield, who could suck a situation of any sexual excitement. Cuddling up to Carole Ziggy could manage - 12 weeks of loneliness or not.

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If there was any ever doubt about the decision, she put rest to it by tonight demonstrating exactly the behaviour voters don't like to see. In the catwalk task, we saw housemates preparing outfits for them to model. Originally Amy was seen in what can best be described as a sack, admittedly quite an unflattering garment. Next time we saw her, and Gerry was taking the scissors to it, liberally cutting away fabric around the breast area. "Watch the nipples," she said as he snipped away, a message she was keen to promote in her actual performance as well. Her routine was ironically close to a strip show considering the performance was supposed to be about clothes. At least Brian enjoyed it.

Carole again found reason to grumble today. Voted by fellow housemates as most judgmental along with Brian, the pair retreated to the toilets to complain about this. They concluded that while they may well be more judgemental than fellow housemates, they were at least up front about it, unlike people like Amy, who were "covertly judgmental." I'm not sure what they meant by that, but I assume it doesn't cover clandestine bitchiness in the toilets.

Sam and Amanda are a growing force, and it was nice to see them chatting together in the diary room, Sam teasing her sister about Brian's flirtations. I think the twins should have more airtime devoted to them, particularly airtime not devoted to them simply repeating their catchphrases. A part of me suspects Big Brother is planning on bringing out a range of talking dolls after this year's final. There could be Samanda ("Dead good" "Love it" "Defo"), Tracey ("Ave it!" "Deal with it" "Sketchy man") and even Ziggy ("It's just that, well, ermmm, umm, sigh").

Amy's departure was pretty standard, I did wonder if under the pressure of all the boo-ing she might panic and whip her breasts out but she kept herself calm with some simple posing for the paparazzi. Oh well, I'm sure by Sunday these two activities will have been extensively combined.

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Ziggy was the most excited by this, he has been telling people left right and centre who he nominated during his stay in the house. He told Nicky a few weeks ago, he told Gerry last night, and he alluded to having told Carole in tonight’s show. He also mentioned to Liam that he had nominated Tracey in the past. Why is he doing this? Is it to release him of guilt? Is it part of a straight-up, no bullshit attitude he wants to present? There’s being honest with people, and there’s being an idiot. If someone comes up to you and basically says, “Of all the people here you’re one of two who I most want to leave,” I’d be surprised if anyone was left thinking “Well he may hate me and everything I stand for, but what a truthful, honest gentleman. Such integrity!”

Obviously such discussions could be had openly today, but as I mentioned they did still happen before, against the rules. What puzzles me is the way in which housemates think they have gotten around the rule, thinking that by being covert and cryptic enough in conversations Big Brother won’t understand they were actually talking about nominations. Put it this way, if Chanelle can grasp what your hidden message is, then I doubt Big Brother will have many problems. It’s stretching my memory, but when Ziggy was letting Nicky know he was planning to vote for her, he went up to during nominations, acting like a KGB spy, whispering conspiratorially:

“Hey Nicky, can I have a word… we don’t get on, do we? Just thought I should let you know”
“Wha..?”

He was already walking away after saying that line, clearly hoping for some equally cryptic yet succinct reply showing understanding. Maybe something like, “Yes, the weather is hot in Sweden but cold in Yorkshire.” Alas Nicky was not quite on Ziggy’s wavelength, and it ended up a bungled and embarrassing conversation.

“I’m just saying, you’re one of the ones I least like in here”
”OKaaayyyyy”
”So you know… good. I’m just letting you know” (said with the aplomb you’d usually only see if someone is passing on news of a relative dying).
“I know we don’t get on Ziggy, why are you saying this?”
“Just, you know, I want to be honest. In light of what’s coming up”
“OK, I understand.” …. “ I wouldn’t say we don’t get on – I mean – we’re not the best of friends..”

To be fair to Ziggy, he did well not to totally lose the plot here and yell “Look, I’m fucking nominating you this week alright?”

Despite Nicky’s confusion, that was blatant enough. I’m just waiting for the day when housemates go. “Right, I’m going to use the word ‘orange,’ to replace another word in this conversation. OK. I’m going to orange Carole and Tracey today, what about you?” Maybe such cunning hasn’t crossed their minds.

Back to tonight. Housemates were told to eat cheese for today’s task, in order to induce vivid dreams. Carole was grumpy from the offset at the choice of 2 vegetarian cheeses. “They’re really unimaginative when it comes to vegetarians,” she moaned. Sorry? What did she expect? The task is to eat cheese, so that’s what you’re given to eat. If she was dismayed that it was only a choice between cheese and cheese then she’s misunderstood the task. If she’s upset that the cheese itself was bland then I am equally confused, I mean, short of sculpting it into some kind of tower I don’t know what imagination could even have been put into it. I think she was just in a bad mood.

“Another day wasted,” she grumbled as the task drew to a close. I’m not entirely sure what she had planned instead; maybe she was going to enrol in a language course, or finally master the internet, or rescue an orphaned African child. Clearly she can’t have meant that this task was disrupting her from her usual routine of pottering around the Big Brother house muttering about disrespect and laziness in today’s youth?

Conversations turned to a sexual nature in the last segment of the show, as predicted by the Channel 4 announcer beforehand. Jonti and Gerry discussed him being a virgin. Initially having said that you wouldn’t meet many virgins on a day to day basis, Jonti changed his mind, saying, “Actually, you probably have met them before, they were just too embarrassed to say.” Fair point Jonti, but this is Gerry you’re talking to. The man has slept with between 2000 and 3000 people. Somehow I don’t think that in his social circle he meets many virgins.

Jonti also said something interesting when asked about his interest in spanking. Explaining how it all started, he described how when he was young and saw stuff like spanking on TV it made him “excited down there.” Sorry, exactly what TV were you watching Jonti? I’d be hard pressed to remember the last time I saw spanking on any TV show, and I was a keen watcher of late night Channel 5 pseudo-erotica throughout my teens. The others all thoughtfully agreed though, like this made perfect sense. “Yes, given all the spanking you get on TV these days it’s a wonder we aren’t all masochistic, sex-crazed animals,” Ziggy’s nod seemed to convey.

Sometimes I think I’m watching the wrong channels.

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Amy came across brilliantly in this segment. Here I use the term brilliantly in the manner which you’d describe the resolution of an HD TV – she was presented as a self obsessed, narrow minded and deluded egomaniac (or as she so succinctly put it afterwards, as a “scheming whore”). Not very flattering, but I think very accurately and vividly.

As she snuggled between the towel-wearing Jonti and the puzzlingly coiffered Kara-Louise, we could anticipate Amy of all people would not react well to any criticism directed her way. However, she took the twins’ votes surprisingly well. “Aww, they don’t have a bad word to say about anybody, do they?” she cooed, seemingly oblivious to the fact they’d just nominated the two slightly miffed people sat either side of her. What Amy probably meant is that they didn’t say anything bad about her, which of course is what really mattered.

When the next video appeared on screen (her own nominations) her cringing and embarrassment was to be expected; after all she had nominated Kara-Louise even after the arguments her disloyalty to fellow halfway-housemates had previously caused. However, her knee-jerk reaction to this potentially awkward situation was not a pre-emptive apology or explanation, but a “look how terrible I look.” Maybe I’m being too harsh, I mean, despite being self-obsessed and vain it at least showed some modicum of accurate self-perception.

I don’t really understand why these videos upset an angered Kara and Amy so much? I mean, when they knew they were up for the public vote, they must have known people would have said negative things about them. Kara, who took it all rather badly, should have been placated by the reasons put forward for her – she was let off lightly. Most of the comments against her were due to her havign previously said she wasn’t enjoying the BB experience, and were usually preceded by, “she’s a lovely girl, but…” If anything housemates were trying to help her out. If the harsh reality of that hurt her so much, it raises the question of what she previously thought might be the reasons she was up. Short of, “she’s just so amazing that I can’t handle it,” I can’t see how the real reasons were an unpleasant shock.

Amy wasn’t the only one who annoyed me today. Gerry is continuing to grate on me. When Big Brother announced they wanted the two housemates “most knowledgeable about history” to go to The Diary Room, Gerry’s face lit of with a mixture of pride and defiance. He was almost was waiting someone to challenge his self-election so that he could reel off his credentials. If he could have arranged some sort of fanfare and procession to see him into the Diary Room I’m sure he would’ve.

During the quiz he only came across more smug and pretentious. When Jonti stole his thunder by correctly answering the first question right before he had chance to, Gerry, of course being the authority on the veracity of historical facts, twittered “yes, well done, good” and “that was easy that one” – which to a man of Gerry’s learning it of course would have been. The mocking he got from Liam et al outside after his failure in this task was well deserved.

Also annoying about Gerry was his discussion with Ziggy over their relationship. When Ziggy complained about Gerry’s criticism of him previously, Jerry responded; “Yes I did say that, then I went to the toilets and cried, and came back and apologised.” Why do housemates feel that by crying they can absolve themselves of past wrong-doings? When Amy backstabbed her halfway housemates and they met up again, she explained it all with “You didn’t see how much I cried about it afterwards.” Ignoring the fact that we the omnipresent viewer didn’t see this either, the main point is why should this explanation work as a placatory gesture? It’s lazy and manipulative, and would be expected of a child. Also, as evidenced by Amy putting Kara up again this week, such tears are usually not a sign of guilt or regret. Its just another way some housemates like to turn everything back to being about themselves, even their own wrong-doings.

One final point; Gerry said in the very same discussion that if there’s one thing in life he doesn’t like it’s hypocrites. This from the man who said, regarding Jonti; “I just find it a little odd that a grown man would talk to his cuddly toys.” Next to him on the Diary Room chair was his stuffed toy monkey, dressed up in miniature versions of the clothes he himself was wearing. He’s a clever man is Gerry.

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