The most entertaining housemate? Really?
After a couple of weeks of thinking that David – the big gay Frankenstein’s Monster from Yorkshire – might be slightly brain damaged, it was finally confirmed yesterday when he judged Hira to be the Most Entertaining Housemate. It was a move akin to naming Jordan the World’s Greatest Perfumer. Hira, beyond her Mad Lizzy exercise routines, has done nothing. On an even more worrying note, David appears to be limbering up for a battle with the Bea, Marcus, Freddie triangle of doom, after rumours got out that he’s been spotted wandering mouth first around the fridge when no one’s looking. Food theft is a dangerous game, and – rather deliciously – it could make him toast as early as the coming Friday. He also has a massive crush on Rodrigo, which is a worry for the little Brazilian. Might there be a Lennie, Of Mice and Men moment in the pipeline?
David aside, much is still going on in the house. Bea has taken to dressing up as a jumble sale, Freddie promised to express himself in a “wonderful way” during his talent contest solo, and he may have ejaculated mid-song by the looks of things. He might also have confused the word wonderful with really really appalling. His “shoobie-do-waps” were almost enough to induce a nationwide stately home bricking spree. Sophie has no future in the rap game. And Marcus, it seems, cannot have both his mouth and his eyes open at the same time. It’s either one or the other.
Siavash, still, is our number one.
Oh, and this guy left…
After just over a week of prowling the house in t-shirts made for men half his size, wearing trainers and a hat in bed, and eating breakfast like it was a workout, his muscles taut and angry, veins throbbing as he spooned economy cornflakes into his tight, muscular mouth, Tom has left the building. He cited being bored as his reason for flouncing out in the middle of the night, but we have a hunch that once he realised that Noirin had accepted the hairy Iranian lips, he was no longer needed. His parting shots involved telling a confused Rodrigo that he’d win the show, and upsetting bosomy Sophie by alluding to her boyfriend Kris being a prat. Something we’ve known for weeks, thanks Tom. He won’t really be missed.
Elsewhere in the house, Marcus has been floating angrily in the pool, unable to compute that women don’t really find him very attractive. It might be the stupid redneck hair, it might be the Tony Montana tatt on his leg, or it might be that his erosion technique of wooing doesn’t work outside of Brentford. Persistence quite possibly pays off in some outer regions of West London, especially when you’re a sexy window fitter with tatts, but in the Big Brother house where everyone is so super-attractive that you could be watching Hollyoaks, he looks like a gargoyle at a Barbie and Ken party.
Lisa, meanwhile, has come to resemble David Beckham through the eyes of a very disturbing acid trip, Hira no longer bothers saying anything whatsoever – which is lucky, as her voice sounds like a gorilla playing a Moog – and Bea might yet stand for biiiitch, as she has taken to being a little bit slaggy-offy.
Siavash, as ever, is our number one.
Somebody’s days are numbered…
It’s been a sobering week for the animals in the Big Brother zoo, as Kris – the preening chimp – was thrown to the wolves, leaving his pack of strange and exotic creatures to lick their wounds, and circle the other pride with suspicion in their eyes and the taste of fresh blood on their fangs. Lisa, part-vulture part-parrot, has reacted very badly, as she attempts to reign in her small flock – including Charlie the talking otter, Sophie the flamingo with tits, and Karly the disgruntled labrador. They have all been wandering the grounds together in very close proximity, always with one eye out for Noirin the angry rabbit, Marcus the horny mule, and Freddie the son of a wealthy owl. Neither of these groups get along, and were it not for Rodrigo the gay terrapin keeping the peace and telling all of the creatures that they should just relax and play games together, they might already have torn one another to shreds with their rabid animal mouths.
Siavash is, of course, the lion. Still our favourite.
In other house news, Marcus has adopted the age-old corrosion technique to make a beautiful woman fall for him, as he tries to pester his way into Noirin‘s tiny underpants. While Karly should be enduring the awkward Davina interview this Friday, having done little more than swear like a trooper, and constantly look like she’s just popped a cola bottle into her mouth, only to find that it was a bizarrely shaped dollop of Lisa droppings.
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.
Big Brother, please stop cock-blocking this man!
Poor Marcus. Big hairy Marcus. Marcus with the most astonishing mullet ever broadcast. Marcus with a series of very bad tattoos. Marcus who stands alone sometimes, with shower water cascading down his soft body, scrubbing himself feverishly with whatever kitchen product happened to be nearest the sink. Marcus who makes strange, almost pointless, presents from bits of scrap metal. That Marcus. The Marcus who could have any woman he wanted were he not cock-punched by authority every time they were about to fall for him. It probably happens all the time to gorgeous, yet cursed, people like Marcus. Oh how Lady Luck gives with one hand and karate chops your balls with the other!
Just yesterday, Noirin was about to fall in love with him, then Big Brother called him to the diary room. In those few moments, she managed to pull herself together. “Don’t fall for him Noirin,” she told herself, “he’ll only break your heart, just don’t fall for him.” It says a lot about the mental strength of the Irish stunner that she can resist. Has she been hurt before? Have you Noirin?
Elsewhere in the house, Sigourney Weaver from Alien 3 has been drafted in to replace Lisa, Rodrigo came very close to drowning in the bath, and Kris made everyone feel awkward by describing how he likes to pick up girls by performing a series of hilarious exercise routines. When no one laughed, he decided that he might dump Sophie.
On a very worrying note, Freddie thought it wise to explain that he sometimes goes to nightclubs to paint people’s faces in exchange for beer. He once painted fifteen Chinese people in about seven minutes, he laughed. A hunch suggests that fifteen very unhappy Chinese people left a club early that night.
The Interestment favourite is still Siavash.
Facepaint! Alcohol! Lasagna!
The Big Brother house really brings out the bisexual in a man. Just this week, Sree has turned his attentions from Noirin – the Irish girl who lives her life by the Ten Commandments, ignoring the “thou shalt not get thy breasts out for cider” one – and now he appears to be all over Charlie, the gay Geordie played by Sean Penn. Kris also seems content bathing with Charlie, and Siavash burst into tears like a wife being handed divorce papers at Christmas when Ciaron was ushered from the show. It’s strange. But not as strange as watching Marcus – the hairy one who struggles with non-chatroom-based communication – puckering up his left nipple so that Sree could get stuck in during a game of dare-dare-or-dare.
On the fashion front, a few interesting moves are being made. Karly, who sounds like she might be Sir Alex Ferguson’s voice coach, has given up on trousers altogether, and now just slopes around the house in a pair of underpants and a top. Angel has modeled herself on one of London’s many bicycle couriers, and Sophie – the glamour girl who always sounds like you’ve walked in on her crying – has really let her hair go. It looks a bit like Russell Brand’s, only in negative.
Elsewhere in the house, Sree appears to think that Big Brother might have a quiet word with people for him, and Freddie revealed that when he has parties at home, it’s all “facepaint, alcohol, lasagna!”
Is this man a GENIUS?
And yet again, Big Brother goes on to prove that if you put a group of human beings together for more than a week, they will either start bickering with each other or attempting to have sex during the middle of the afternoon. It’s a wonder any of us got through double maths without an STD or a busted kneecap.
The sex storyline is hurtling along thanks to Kooks-a-like Kris and the in-house bosomy intellectual Sophie. Literally hours of their day are spent checking that no one is looking before darting their tongues together for a nanosecond of unadulterated sex action. He has vowed to Charlie – played by a young Sean Penn – that this girl is great, but she won’t be tearing him away from his beloved laddy mates any time soon. The very same laddy mates who, by the way, are finally enjoying a few nights out without their curly haired cohort ruining everyone’s fun by explaining in quite revolting detail how he likes to make love to a woman. Are they missing him? Are they?
Elsewhere in the house Karly has been channeling the spirit of Sir Alex Ferguson, and Siavash has bravely decided not to visit the Big Brother sick bay, despite an off-camera accident where he clearly slammed his chin onto a needle by accident. Good for him. Brave boy – and our current favourite.
Angel appears to be slowly dying as her skin becomes ever more pallid and loose, and she appears to be avoiding comparisons with Siavash by thoroughly shaving her face every morning – she was also victim of the worst piece of bread-for-cider business ever screened on television. All very embarrassing.
Which takes us to Marcus – a soothsayer with an astonishing mullet. He appears to be in the middle of a very long live commentary on proceedings, perhaps hoping that should everyone tire of the Geordie bloke, he’ll get the job. His assessment of events has finally got to Lisa, the lesbian punk rocker with eighty piercings in her ear, and she flipped out. Marcus then spent the entire fight explaining to Lisa – presumably with confused viewers in mind – why she was reacting like she was, and how it must be something to do with the way she grew up. The man, it seems, is a mind reader. And as we already know, Big Brother voters bloody hate psychics. He could be toast.
Might these two be the new Ross and Rachel?
Like a great big inflating balloon filled with custard all the colours of the rainbow, the Big Brother tensions are set to erupt, splurging into everyone’s face. Hatred is brewing for poor Sree – a man for whom confidence is very very important. Just last night, Karly made no bones about telling Sophie that their beautiful prostitute impressions are wasted on such a terrible loser, while kindly Freddie thought it time to calmly explain to the unpopular Indian the exact extent of his dislike for him. Sree took it as anyone in his position should – as a compliment.
Elsewhere in the house, Angel endured the most depressing Russian birthday party imaginable, while Kris – who, by the way, can feed three people with just one tin of beans, like Jesus could – and Sophie spent nineteen hours silently planting feathery caresses on one another’s sensitive, restrained bodies. There is a good chance that Kris mustered a full erection just by touching her shoe. The Interestment crystal ball predicts that they will be smearing giant handfuls of house margarine into one another’s hungry buttocks before week six.
It all got a bit too much for Saffia, who apparently decided that she was being a bad mother by continuing to appear on television, so she upped sticks and left. Probably quite a good move for a thin lipped should-be-HR worker, who had absolutely no chance of spending the final night enjoying a fireworks display.
And onto eviction news, where it’s Freddie against Sophia. Freddie did himself no favours by detailing the enormity of his brain, hence his lust for sleep. But Sophia looks dead set to go, having fallen into the age old trap of insisting that she knew she’d be up for eviction, she knew why, and she knew exactly who nominated her. Big Brother voters can’t stand mind readers or warlocks. The tiny little lady is toast.
From this to Big Brother…
It’s probably been a hectic day in the Big Brother house, as the housemates (or non-housemates) continue to circle one another, constantly reintroducing themselves, and making the same joke about how terrible with names they are. Eventually, that line of conversation will become tired, and they will be forced to move onto more fascinating topics, like which celebrities they might have met on their many nights out in fashionable London clubs. Blonde 1 and Blonde 2 might even enjoy a sudden bonding moment when they both chance upon common ground when casually mentioning a Dane Bowers/Dean Gaffney sandwich in Movida. Great times.
Whether that happens or not, some of the inmates have started to hint at their alterior motives for undertaking such a rash life decision. In the least shocking turn of events of Day One, Sophie – the busty girl bound for the Nuts cover – has caused a ripple in the popular showbiz press by removing her outer clothing, to reveal a set of underpants, and one very unhappy bra. While Lisa, the ferocious lesbian with an actual tattoo on her head, has been overheard talking about her ex, claiming that she let the girl of her dreams slip through her fingers. Lisa, would a simple phone call not have been better? It’s your life, but COME ON.
Elsewhere in the house, the guy from Teen Wolf has been wafting around, preening himself like a panthress, and he even paid a visit to the diary room to explain how brilliant he is. As anyone who lives in London already knows, it just isn’t a party if Teen Wolf isn’t there. It just isn’t.
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.