On borrowed time?
As Siavash lay in a pretend rabbit hutch slowly munching through carrots, dressed like a vagrant Geisha girl, things were kicking off inches away in the communal area. The cause of the row appeared to be Freddie‘s hysterical glee that arch-rival Lisa might finally be getting her comeuppance. And not a moment too soon. Channeling the spirit of an extremely grumpy lesbian, she has done little more than slump at the bus stop awaiting transport out of the house that never looked like turning up. That particular wait should come to a very welcomed end this Friday. Her conversations with David have been the listening equivalent of watching two monkeys curiously poking at a mirror attempting to decipher their reflections. Brainiacs, they are not.
David, sadly, further proved this when explaining to Bea that he didn’t want to blow their disagreements “out of precaution”. Either he was clumsily attempting to quash their long term row, or he was making a sudden change of subject, and honestly trying to tell her that he’d run out of condoms. But we doubt that.
Elsewhere in the house, Hira spent six hours attempting to smash a cake with her face, Marcus explained his unbelievable outburst in which he called David a “fat cunt” by insisting that where he comes from, they say things like that “every four words”. In which case, his days as a popular window fitter could be drawing to a very sudden close. And Charlie has seemingly run out of things to say.
We still want Siavash to win it.
Come on guys, anarchy yeah…
The thing about revolution is that it’s really hard work, it takes lots of planning, and lives will be lost. Witnessed at its height, revolution can be beautiful, almost like violent human ballet. Unfortunately, the recent Big Brother revolution lacked any semblance of unity, and if you’re going to make a stand against Big Brother, it should take a little bit more than Big Brother saying “housemates, stop making a stand” to dismantle the whole operation. Still, props should go to Siavash for almost making it onto the house roof before remembering that he was terrified of heights – that’s dedication.
Elsewhere in the house, Rodrigo is slowly deflating, and will surely end the series self harming and muttering about respect. He was so bubbly when it all started, but our hunch is that he’s so in love with Charlie that it’s ripping him apart. A bit like in Brokeback Mountain, but less cowboyish. Karly – almost certain to go tonight – has been disco dancing in one of those up-the-bum leotards, as Marcus peered on from underneath a blanket. Creepy stuff.
Still our number one!
A person’s outfit can say so much, and the Big Brother inmates are beginning to hold a magnifying glass up to the inner workings of their minds with some very curious fashion decisions. Charlie – a man who failed to stay silent for an entire minute – has taken to dressing like Sean Penn playing the part of Andrew Ridgeley in a Wham! biopic. Sophie – the glamour girl who speaks from her nose – appears to have completely given up, and looks homeless. While Freddie the posho is never without a coat and hat, which suggests that he is ready to leave at any given moment.
Karly is obviously comfortable with her place in the house, as she refuses to dress beyond a minute set of underpants, while Siavash – still the Interestment favourite – appears to be spearheading a toga revival. Good for him, good for him.
Elsewhere on the inside, Marcus has failed in his bid to create the most revoltingly mismatched couple since Julia Roberts married that country and western singer who had a face like a cheese and onion crisp, and Kris is all set to meet Davina on Friday, having spent the last few weeks telling Freddie to shut up every time he so much as coughed.
The new Posh and Becks?
If you spend enough time with people, you’ll notice that they begin to develop some very curious behavioural patterns. That’s because human beings do funny things when they know they’re being watched. Just flick through a random bundle of photographs, and you’ll notice that you pull weird faces whenever someone points a camera at you. If that camera keeps going, like the ones in the Big Brother house do, your bizarre actions will increase multifold.
Now week three or four, Angel has really come into her own as a Gollum-type character, dressed as a London bicycle courier. She wanders the house, either casually telling perfectly thin people that they are grotesquely fat, or when she’s not doing that, she appears to be flirting with Freddie. Freddie, incidentally, who believes that in the real world, the pair would have definitely mated by now. Should they ever procreate, there’s a good chance that the offspring would be actual rats. Posh Russian rats. But rats nonetheless. It would be a bit like Rosemary’s Baby.
Elsewhere in the house, Sree has transformed himself into Russ Abbott’s Scotsman, while Marcus has forgotten the cameras completely during shower time, where he can be found sanitising himself using kitchen equipment. Yesterday he used a scouring pad to scrub muck from his upper body, pretty soon, it’ll be Cillit Bang for genitals, Fairy for underarms. The trauma of having to cut a rabbit’s penis off during the Henry VIII task could be responsible for these acts of bathroom self-harm.
All the while, Kris and Charlie have been singing a medley of chart hits, Karly has been wandering from mirror to mirror wearing just underpants and a bra, and Lisa has been telling all who will listen that the key to success in this world is to never change, and just be yourself. Ironically, by following her own advice, she has no chance of winning the show.
Tonight it’s Freddie versus Angel. Angel looks to be toast.
The Interestment favourite continues to be Siavash.
This man lives in a BUBBLE!
Another few days have passed, and further into their own strange little worlds drift this year’s Big Brother contestants. Charlie – the one who looks like Sean Penn playing a gay politician – has already referred to his Charlie Bubble, which appears to be a spherical place where people can state the obvious and make it sound like modern philosophy. Only yesterday Charlie informed his captivated audience that he can only have sexual intercourse with another gentleman if he finds him “sexually attractive”. He then took four hours and fifteen minutes to teach Noirin that you should enjoy everything in moderation, before blowing everyone away by explaining that to become truly drunk, a man should drink alcohol. That Charlie Bubble is a deep place. A deep deep place.
Elsewhere in the house, Noirin doesn’t seem to realise that she accepted Sree’s marriage proposal a couple of nights ago, Angel is prowling the house, slowly dying, and catching butterflies. She’s a bit like a a Russian female version of Mr Miyagi. And Marcus thinks that butter is “fucking shit”.
Nominations-wise, it’s Freddie versus Cairon this week, with the bookies convinced that the young rapper is toast. Shame really, because Freddie is an almighty pillock.
Big Brother 10, the great big launch night…
And so the housemates trundled into the house, some sprinted, some walked in slow motion whilst dressed like a Cabaret inspired demon. It was weird. Made all the weirder by Davina McCall’s decision to dress a little bit like a woman who might run a brothel. Anyway, no matter. Here’s how the first sixteen housemates came across, as decided by us…
With a beard reminiscent of General Zod in Superman II, Freddie is a little bit posh for all of this. That said, his big cheerful hugs seemed to go down well with the rest of the incomers. “Peace and love,” he declared on his way up the steps. That’s peace. And love.
With her punk rocker haircut and tatted up arms, neck, head, back, and face, Lisa has the look of a ferocious lesbian. An illusion that was immediately shattered when she embarked on an awkward conversation with Freddie about the shared moment they were enjoying.
Three minutes after her breasts, Sophie entered the house, making her already a guaranteed cover girl in the Nuts/Zoo axis of sophistication. Were she not a tits out glamour girl, she’d be an ice cream lady, she declared. Sorry, but what’s an ice cream lady?
Kris is as unconventional as the spelling of his name. Oh no, hang on, he’s not at all. He’s just another one of those Kooks-a-likes with a scraggly my-first-beard. He fumbled handfuls of cool points the minute he cooed “it smells like Allied Carpets”, whilst descending the house stairs.
Luckily for Jesus, Noirin lives her life by the Ten Commandments – or nine, as she’s already opted to bow down to another God by going on Big Brother. The Lord will not be happy about that. We’ve got a nasty feeling she might bear false witness against her neighbour at some point too. Just so long as she doesn’t covet anyone’s ox…
The youngster of the house, Cairon is a stylish American lad. Regardless that he feels gay just wiping his own bottom, he looks like the most obvious early contender for the crown. Kids will think he’s cool.
Instantly made a bad impression by taking about twenty minutes just to get up the steps, Angel would make for an awful dinner guest. Pudding done, wine empty, and yet there she is, staring at you, totally unwilling to leave. She’s slightly terrifying in a serial killer kind of way.
According to Karly, her arse is her best feature, which shows an incredible amount of humility from a girl who could have singled out her wit, her lust for medieval poetry, or her ability to change from blonde to brunette in a single frame change. The minute she saw Sophie, most of the blood drained from her face.
Should your computer go on the blink in the next week or so, gutted, because the only man who could combine fixing the thing with telling intriguing stories about the serial numbers on the back of comics is stranded in the Big Brother house. Looks like Wolverine in the same way that Trevor McDonald would if you just stuck some pretend side burns on his cheeks and told him to growl.
Kindly, to kick things off, Beinazir explained that she isn’t a prostitute. Something the other presumed-prostitutes in the house completely failed to consider doing. She then went on to explain that she frightens men, and hates posers. At that stage, we were still reeling from the prostitute revelation.
This is what happens when sickly children pull through and turn into strong young women. They pogo into the Big Brother house cackling like Jabba the Hut‘s manic giggling sidekick from Return of The Jedi. Another possible contender, she seems quite sweet, as all tiny little people do when they smile.
Unlike most Brits, Rodrigo – a Brazilian – loves England, even though it has unwittingly made him gay. Or straight. He’s just not sure. Although he does want to have sex with Latoya Jackson, which, frankly, casts no light on the situation whatsoever. Already in the house, he might win.
Charlie looks a little bit like Sean Penn in Milk, and although he insists that he can’t sit still for one second, we know he’s lying. He clearly spends at least fifteen minutes every morning patiently carving completely pointless go-faster stripes into his left eyebrow.
This year’s victim of appalling intro video syndrome, there is an immediate mountain to climb. Claims to hate all people within just a few minutes, she really should have considered the bra options when picking out a decent first night outfit.
Dressed by his mother and father, they said. And yet, there he was, Union Jack shirt underneath his jacket, Indian flag in his hand, leaving most BNP members totally bewildered. He’s got their shirt on, but he’s Indian. Brains all around Kent literally melted.
In a word – Teen Wolf.