
When David entered the Big Brother house he thought he’d finally achieved his wildest and most impossible dream.

When David entered the Big Brother house he thought he’d finally achieved his wildest and most impossible dream.

Nobody cares! Apart from a few hormone-addled teenagers and some gossiping housewives – absolutely NOBODY cares who will win this years Big Brother! And even though we’re well into Week 53, there are still 117 housemates left, arguing about bread supplies, blabbering about game-plans and falling rapidly in and out of love with one another. It’s like they’ve taken the rulebook, shat on the rulebook and then BURNT the rulebook in that stupid one-storey house.
All the same – let’s press on and look at what chance the remaining howsmeeyuts have of winning the bloody thing.

Just catching up on last night’s Big Brother action – and for once there’s something vaguely interesting going on. Namely – the humiliation and manipulation of one of the nicest housemate’s in BB history – poor old Siavash. As you probably know, after he had his brief, speculative fling with Noirin and pissed off pal Marcus in the process, the producers have now seen fit to chuck in the oft-mentioned ex-boyfriend Noirin wouldn’t shut up about. And judging him on first impressions- thin-slicing like a rabied opinionater – he seems like an absolutely massive arse.

Remember Fred Elliot in Coronation Street? If your memory’s failing you, he was the enormous butcher who talked like Foghorn Leghorn and stole every scene he appeared in. Well, I can’t look at recent Big Brother recruit David without thinking of that long lost soap character. Like Fred, he’s blessed with a booming voice, a northern accent, a weird-shaped head and a barrel-chested gait. The only real difference is one of age. And one of highlights. And one of gaudy, luminous latex clothing. But what Fred Elliot did in his spare time was his business.
It’s day 46 (apparently), and Overweight Gay Man is exercising in a half-arsed fashion with Wet Blanket in the garden. Meanwhile, Irish Girl talks to a man with the preposterously pumped-up physique of ’70s has-been Lou Ferigno about somebody called ‘Marcus’. Unless I’m very much mistaken, ‘Marcus’ is the bone idle little bastard the editing team keep cutting back to under a duvet.

So… BB10.
I’ve caught a bit here and there and, for the most part, am maintaining a dignified distance apart from a few shameful 4OD viewings late at night, when nobody can see me. What I think I’ve figured out is that this year they’ve gone for boring stereotypes who are almost offensively generic in their chosen renderings of glamour model, lesbian, token foreigner, pretty bi boy, northern gay boy, girl next door and that one you never notice but who always ends up in the final.