I got sucked in while the missus was watching this and, with shame and misery overwhelming me, absorbed the flipping lot. I’m dripping with self-disgust. This review is my only hope of purging slime from my contaminated braincells.
If it doesn’t work, I’ll end up watching next week, then the week after, till the whole series has somehow passed through my brain-filter and left me an expert on all the back-stabbing, plank-thick idiots who populate it.
The girls were introduced one-by-one, as is the way with this sort of thing, all declaring their beauty, their ability and their personal variation on charm. Stefanie, a latino temptress with smoky eyes, let herself down the minute that trapdoor of a mouth opened. Blah blah blah, she went on, with not word registering as in any way interesting. Aaron, despite having a boy’s name, reckons she’s got ‘the whole package’. Sophie’s a gibbering wreck, making little sense and looking like she’s coming down from a particularly hedonistic indie disco. Catherine looks about 12. Musayeroh is the black girl who won’t win because these sorts of shows are all inherently tokenistic. Lisa reckons she’s quirky, but is actually just a dreadful bore. The rest waft past, pretty and pointless, like air-freshener or pot pourri.
The fact is, they’re all attractive and have basic intelligence, but they’re so young and not yet fully formed that it’s unfair to create a fair opinion on them. They’re little kids who’re being put through the digital TV mangle for our entertainment in the hope of winning a title which could see the producers crushed by the Trade Descriptions Act.
Britain’s Next Top Model? Do me a favour. A one-off cover shoot on Company magazine isn’t exactly knocking Moss from her pedestal is it? It’s hardly Vogue. It’s the Razzle of fashion mags. Or so the wife tells me.
They all troop straight into a big hall immediately upon arrival for task one and are forced to take some questions from a really questionable bunch of people who all look extremely odd. These people might be fashion students, but I don’t recall the coiceover actually telling us who the fuck they are. One of them is wearing a red balaclava with only one eye slot and is painted black, despite obviously being white. One of them is in drag. If they’re fashion students, they haven’t got a hope. They all have worrying facial tics. It’s alarming.
Aaron fucks up, apparently, by saying she doesn’t think she’ll win. Nice – I like a bit of modesty – attractive in a girl. A couple of others do the same, and all three are reprimanded by Lisa Snowdon for their lack of belief later on. She’s ‘insulted’ by their humility, it seems. The berk.
How did Snowdon get the job anyway? Apart from a bra advert in the 90s, has she done anything of note? I’m waiting for an answer on that one.
Later on they have to split into teams of two and take polaroids of one another’s best feature. One particular little twat (I think it was Alexandra) opts to take a shot of Aaron’s eyes. Now, Aaron does have lovely big sparkling eyes but Alexandra reveals her reasons for taking this shot. It’s to highlight the fact that, without make up, a scar is visible that covers part of her photography partner’s eyebrow. So she’s picking this one tiny flaw out and amplifying it to get rid of the competition in a demonstration of just how superficial and idiotic this shit is.
The later task is to split into pairs for topless shots. While most perfrom quite well, Sophie looks blankly ahead like she’s been beaten about the head with a kilo of smack while Stefanie and Alexandra go for a Zoo magazine-sponsored shot. High class. That’s the pic at the top of the article. Quality soft porn - but not really Tatler.
Sophie goes, leaving a trail of grey matter behind her after being voted out by a twat in a hat, the once-upon-a-time-Z-list Snowdon and the living dead. The latter is fucking terrifying. As she passes judgement she lurches around like a reanimated sloth and slurs away in an icelandic accent. If you allow something like to judge you, then you deserve to be judged.
Then it ends. Like passing an enormous, uncomfortably dry turd, it’s finally over and you’re left a tiny bit satisfied, a little bit raw and too dirty to sit still any longer.
*end of football comment*
107 Comments
God, it looks like omeone made ‘Huggy’s’ lips with latex and a foot pump. Surely this tripe can’t be as bad as that other tripe, the one with Lloyd Webber on a throne, a load of talentless bimbos and kiddywinks and Graham Norton, to put the cherry on the turd?
Even I draw the line at ‘I’d Do Anything’, JQW.
Oh also, ‘I got sucked in while the missus was watching this’. I bet you did, you filthy swine.
Are you constantly online, Wagonwheel? You posted a comment before I’d even clicked ‘publish’, it seems.
No, I just happened to catch this in the moment when I decided I couldn’t be bothered to translate the rest of the page on agricultural policy into Arabic.
I’m not sure which is duller, this or that.
Anyway, I take it you didn’t see the show… I don’t reckon many folk will have. Even though there are loads of young ladies parading about wearing precious little.
http://www.livingtv.co.uk/bntm4/Ep01_pic01.html
Who does the photoshop after they’ve taken all the pictures? That’s the question. That’s most of the work, the models themselves just have to pout, look slightly confused, dazed or horny and skip about a bit, lezzing it up and keeping their nipples covered for the primetime slot.
I am a woman and even I draw the line at watching this muck.
I’m not watching Big Brother this year, Clarry. I can justify watching this for that reason.
“Even though there are loads of young ladies parading about wearing precious little.”
May I direct your attention to the internet in this regard? There you’ll find a vast wonderland of ladies parading around – and these ones are wearing absolutely nothing at all, and are usually accompanied by any number of
gentlemen or ladies, or both. They’re usually not modelling anything either.
Yes, but you can’t watch those with your missus, unless she’s particularly accomodating.
Yes, but I’m sure you can stave off your slavering desire to ogle scantily-clad ladies until she’s gone to bed? That way you can look at them in the nude, and leave your leisure time with the wife free to watch something with at least an ounce of intelligence.
I don’t think I will watch BB this year either. Well, I say I won’t, but I probably will end up being drawn to it. They just pick total morons to go on there. Maybe we should volunteer our services to select some more suitable candidates?
I would, Napoleon, but B’s NT Model is actually her choice. I tried to do other things, but it was just there, winking at me.
Clarry, this year will be the last BB. It can’t hope to go on, surely…
A dangerous thing, letting a woman get her hands on the remote. When that happens in my house, I’m sudden;y subjected to Murder She Wrote, Columbo, Diagnosis Murder, Monk, and Perry Mason. Oh, and that atrocity, Smallville.
Did anyone see that How To Build A Cathedral last night? It was similar to the BBC’s series on cathedrals from a couple of years ago, only dumbed-down for morons.
Imagine the shite you’d have to sit through if you had kids as well… doesn’t bear thinking about.
Napoleon – I know a certain someone who blogged it briefly.
http://www.piqued.co.uk
They probably did it all about Lincoln cathedral too, when Wells is the only one worth filming.
Also, happy Earth Day everyone!
*vomits*
I still don’t really know what a ‘pingback’ is.
I haven’t read his scintilating post about going to the pub/eating sensational food/advanced stages of kidney failure yet.
I did live with a kid for six months, remember? During my time in that house, I’d say the little cherub watched about four hours of telly in a six month period. I’m fucked if I’m tolerating Milkshake when there’s BBC Breakfast News on the other side. Don’t like it, little ‘un? Then get a job and buy a fucking telly, you five year old bastard.
Why wasn’t he at work? Breakfast News Starts at 6 doesn’t it? He should’ve been on his first gruel-break by then.
The child is a she, and for some extraordinary reason she went to school, if you please. No idea why. You only have to look at the most obnoxious creature known to man – the female university student – to see what a bad business educating girls is. I personally see nothing wrong in employing them in factories from the age of four instead. It was good enough for my great-grandmother.
SH, every year you say you won’t watch BB, and every year you do moaning all the while that you won’t/you’re not
Every
Year
Just don’t watch it. It works for me and the other 55 million people who don’t. It’s not like heroin.
Piss of Piqued, you pissy pisspot penis pot.
Yeah, you only mock because I’m right
NC, I can smell your prick from here
Well done, Piqued. You fat nonce.
Hey! A lawyer in Biafra’s been in touch to tell me my Uncle P. has died, along with his wife and kids. Apparently, as P.’s only living relative (which must mean my mum’s dead), I’m entitled to a whopping $100,000,000 USD! Huzzah!
Well I think it goes without saying that you, Swineshead, can stick your paltry review site right up your fucking … oh, hang on, it’s spam.
But it (BB) is there, in your face, at every turn. The only way to avoid it is to not watch any telly, read any magazines or listen to any radio for the 12 years that it’s on. Otherwise you hear a little snippet of gossip, it intrigues you, you suddenly feel interested, your finger hovers over the button and BANG! before you know it the house is dirty, the children/spouses are neglected, your phone bill astronomical and your social life is in tatters all because you couldn’t resist.
It’s like an illness.
Big Brother is very very easy to avoid, Clarry. If you read magazines that don’t have the word !!EXCLUSIVE!! in big pink letters on the front, you’ll find an amazing absence of Big Brother news. If you don’t watch e4 and Channel 4 when Big Brother or any of its sister programmes are on, you’ll be staggered to find none of the other 500 channels have a thing to say about the show. Vast swathes of radio, both local and national, keep pretty schtum about the whole thing, and as for gossip? Well how’s about keeping your fucking nose out of other people’s conversations, or showing disinterest when someone tries to engage you with Big Brother tittle-tattle? There are plenty of other conversations you can have. Why, I believe there’s some sort of fracas occurring in Iraq at the moment – try taking that one for a spin.
For fuck’s sake.
Thanks btw
You’re welcome.
….
I actually quite like Big Brother. I’ve got the opening title music as my ringtone – and Dermot is a dude.
You were probably at boarding school being bummed by Sir
Never, as far as I’m concerned, John. Ditto all of this reality show shit. The only ones that I’ve found in any way entertaining are Dragon’s Den and The Apprentice, and I’m now boycotting the latter. My reality TV world gets smaller and smaller. I can see the time that Theo will make one too many ‘That’s about as useful as a parafin parrot in a piss-pot factory’ quip, and I’ll banish the Dragons as well.
Where the fuck’s your last comment gone?
I was about to say the same thing NC
Lets touch
If reality TV disappears I’ll have nothing to write about. At least JQW’s still in love with the genre.
I don’t want to touch you, you fat lout. I might catch some sort of head disease that causes me to become interested in balsamic vinegar.
Oooh, I think thou dost protest too much
*opens freckle*
Go on, see if that fits
There’s plenty to write about, Swineshead. BBC4’s ‘Medievalism For Dummies’ series, the £500,000 the BBC’s just wasted on its news graphics, who’s replacing Aspel on Antiques Roadshow, the ‘local’ part of The Politics Show that fucks up the rest of The Politics Show, the cunts wot appear on Question Time, Andrew O’Neil’s hair on This Week, how quickly EastEnders is turning into a Carry On film … the list goes on.
Get fucked, Piqued. By someone else, obviously.
Oooh, I see your thoughts are already associating ‘Piqued’ with ‘fucking’…
You naughty man
*curls NC’s hair*
Whose my big bad brave boy, mmm
I’m not entertaining your lurid fantasies. And anyway, we wouldn’t get on. I’d feel duty-bound to beat you to death the first time you called your dinner ’sensational’.
You feel threatened by an icky wicky bit of din dins?
My silly man, silly silly silly ma…
*wanks furiously*
Have you got your period NC?
The wit’s flying furiously around here today, ain’t it just? Got any more o’ those, Clarry? I’m waiting with baited breath for the next highly original bit of badinage to come firing from the mighty siege guns of your sophisticated repartee. Come on, girl, hit me again! Fire another cannonade of primary school level retorts across my quivering bows!
u smel of poo
No I don’t. I had a bath this morning.
And no, I didn’t wank in it.
Bloody hell, what’s got into you? I came here for a bit of light entertainment not a bollocking off you.
Mate, seriously, can you stop talking of w@anking and such like. Not only is it uncalled for but also there are woman reading this.
To be honest I find it rather upsetting as well.
Look, I’ve been around, I’ve watched programmes after the watershed where they use blue language and what have you, yes, in the context of comedy programmes I’m not adverse to wryly smiling when someone like Billy Connolly says ‘bum’ or something (gosh, or even worse, he can be so rude!!) so I’m quite a broadminded kind of guy…
But you just keep on at it, the language of self abuse, other rude and frankly offensive words that wouldn’t be out of place in Wandsworth Prison or the docks of Hull. So please, for my sake and all the ladies watching (hi ladies ; )) lets just please remain civilised, you cunt
(He clearly is bleeding from the waist down, Clarry)
Clarry – I wasn’t giving you a bollocking. Want a bollocking? I’m happy to oblige. I was merely replying to your shitty period comment. It should hardly be a surprise to you now that I’m the least even-tempered member of this unholy alliance of bastards. Throw that crap in my face, and I’ll attack you, plain ‘n’ simple.
Piqued – Get fucked.
And you can get fucked as well, Swineshead. It’s so much fun when you have to fall back on schoolboy put-downs when I start harrumphing. Very fucking clever, ha ha. Any other emasculating rubbish you want to throw in while we’re about it?
You’re hung like an acorn, perhaps?
Well done! Another, perhaps? We could go on all day …
Fuck this, i’m off. Laterz.
I’m damned if I’m feeling guilty about that.
You bastard
He really is a sod.
Fuck you. The amount of folk you’ve alienated with your foul-tempered comments makes my tally look insignificant. And you swear as much as I do.
Piqued I meant there, not Swineshead.
Yeah, watch him back track, you meant Swineshead
Fuck you.
P.S Don’t worry NC you’ve not alienated me – i’m just not in the mood for arguing and un-pleasantries today. Currently i’m in the grips of a dreaded allergic reaction and my eye/right half of face could belong to John Merrick.
Honestly, your language
Actually I blame television, all these youth shows such as Grange Hill
John Merrick, wasn’t he inThe Hunchback of Notre Bells?
Clarry – I’m not worried, thanks. Hope the allergic reaction clears up, etc. etc.
Piqued – They didn’t have swearing on Grange Hill.
Did when I was growing up
I remember when Tuckers Jenners was simply known as ‘cunt mash-up’, of course you would be too young to remember that
Aaah, they were happy days, happy, happy days -long gone now
Now it’s so cold, so very cold
P – No, John Merrick was the elephant man, and my face is starting to look his with the swelling.
NC – Wasn’t actually insinuating that you had feelings of any kind, never mind sorry ones. Was merely saying don’t think you’ve got rid of me that easily.
I thought that was John Hurt, him out of The Fall
It’s a shame when the elderly’s memory begins to fade and they start thinking there was swearing on Grange Hill.
look *like* his
See my deformed face is starting to affect my speech….
I have feelings, Clarry. Erm …
British feelings! That’s it. That’s what I meant to say there.
I am considering a sex change*
*Really
Oh, so that’s what happened. Swineshead up to his old Stalin tricks again, is he?
That took seconds to write, you nonce.
Whole seconds.
Just because your day hasn’t been quite as random or kooky…
Eh?
Who…?
Wha…?
In other news, someone has just burnt down the plastic portaloo outside work. Photo coming up in a bit…
He dun it again.
‘kooky’
Sorry, is this an episode of Buffy the fucking vampire Slayer?
It’s called sarcasm, piqued.
HAHAHA KOOKY LIKE TAHT BLONDS WOMIN IN FRENDS WAHTS HER NAYMS?!?! FEE-BEE!!! HAHA I FORGOTS
Wasn’t Goldie Hawn kooky? I think it’s an American thing. You’ll have to ask that American chap wot writes for this site.
You’re all comment-editing bastards and I’m going to go and make a girl have coffee with me.
Don’t blame me. Swineshead’s the one who jealously guards comment moderation.
You weren’t being sarcastic when you said ‘kooky’, be a man and admit it damn you sir
In other other news, George Galloway just went flying by the window on an open topped bus shouting about the Respect party. It’s all go in the West End I tell you. Is he running for Mayor?
I’m going to buy a pork pie and some brown ale tonight. Oh yes.
Other, other other news – on Friday when I was down in London, Ben Miller – the one who looks like Rob Brydon but isn’t Rob Brydon, sat next to me on the tube. He is very small.
Did you goose him?
’stalined’ him perhaps? Mmm?
He looked mildly irritated that nobody recognised him. I think actors travels with Jo Public from time to time just to reassure themselves of their popularity. He was wearing a floral shirt and baseball boots – a sure sign of him screaming ‘look at me’.
Was a bit dificult to goose him as we were seated on a fairly empty carriage – maybe if we were standing and in the rush hour traffic.
I was goosed once – either that or the man in question had a very prominent hip bone….
*travel
*difficult
I sat next to Mark Thomas recently, he wanked me off whilst reciting Das Kapital
Oh yeah we had Galloway on his bus the other day, driving down gower street pissing everyone off. Didn’t seem to have much respect if you ask me. Still think meeting princess anne in my halls of residence beats it though.
I worked with a lass that came 3rd (or 5th ?) in the last series. Think it cost her a couple of grand but she got a flight to New York, a pair of sunglasses and an insult from that Janic Dickinson. She also got dressed in rubber, tied to a steak and whiped for some death metal vid (is it wrong for me to want to find that video?) And they say dignity has no price..
Also met a lass from BBC Three’s debt programme thingy once. I mingle with the best.
I know a girl who was on Faking It – the ballroom dancing kick-boxer one.
It was boring.
I gave that tall bird off the lottery show (Jenni Falconer?) a light at Kings X. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but she looked famous and is MASSIVE (tall not fat)!
I once bought heroin from one of the Levellers. Wasn’t very good heroin, mind.
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