The end is nigh

if you don’t watch Big Brother, stop reading now.  I’m about to go on about all the finalists one by one and you won’t find it even faintly interesting.  If you do watch it, you’ll find it dull too.  But at least you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Glyn:  I think I’m slightly out there on Glyn, but I hate him quite irrationally.  I just see his eyes staring out from those beetling brows as he pronounces someone boring and posh because they have an English accent, or they refuse to let him play with their boobies, or they don’t like black pudding, or they may have once said that Wales isn’t the best place in the world ever and I find myself wanting to shake him by his shoulders until his supposed big brain rattles its way out of his gormless mouth.  Of course, it’ll be closely followed by a torrent of Welsh, and cider-scented vomit.    His recent pronouncement that he was "fooled" by Aisleyne’s breasts was quite marvellous.  And I had high hopes for him in the early stages, too.  Also, for a man so obsessed with Wales, he is surprisingly ignorant of its famous sons (I’m thinking of David Lloyd George specifically here). Could still win, but unlikely.

Jennie:  She’s a bit nothing, isn’t she?  I’ve tried to have a full opinion on Jennie, but I keep failing.  She’s Scouse, I think that’s as far as I get before I’m distracted by a shiny object.  She’s been very rude for no reason to various people (most recently Ais), but this isn’t really a personality, it’s just a way of passing the time in an obnoxious fashion.  Might be a bit of a thickie.  Has absolutely no chance of winning.

Nikki:  Oh, Nikki.  So much fun for so long, then she lost it and we booted her out.  This gave her a chance to relax, refresh, take in her publicity, get a spin-off show sorted, watch every hour of footage she could then return to the house against the wishes of the general public.  Since then she has been a lazy caricature of herself and a vicious, spiteful little Puck to Richard’s guffawing Oberon.  Has been virtually inseparable from odds-on winner Pete since she returned.  Amazing how the possibility of someone winning £100,000 will make them more attractive, isn’t it?  Sorry, sorry.  They Are For Real.  Yeah, as real as Nikki’s tantrums since she returned.  Not a hope of winning.  We evicted her once – was that not clear?

Richard:  He’s a dick, is our Richard.  He’s actually been quite fun over the 13 weeks, a steady balance of self-help gobbledeook and high-camp diary room bitching justifying his longevity.  But he is a bit nasty sometimes and you do wish he’d shut his trap every so often – his every word is not worth hanging on.  Still.  I wouldn’t mind too much if he won, to be honest.  I’m not rooting for him, but I wouldn’t much care.  His future-autobiography (saccharine though it was) actually made me realise that he was, you know, an outsider.  Plunged into this house of British crazies, I hadn’t previously considered his nationality to be an issue – the Canadians are pretty much like us, right?  But imagine if he was Dutch, or Swedish.  We’d be going "Oh, god, poor Richard in with those weird British people!"  I don’t know exactly what my point is here.

Pete:  Eek.  I said at the start that I liked Pete.  I thought he didn’t deserve to be there, that he was a bit too nice, perhaps.  Lucky I carried on watching!  After the first couple of weeks of fun, there followed 8 weeks of moping, sulking and spineless capitulation to whoever was causing him to sulk or mope.  Oh, and much homemade Gamelan.  Then Nikki went back in!  Hurrah!  Pete came out of his shell!  Oh, no wait..  He just attached his shell, limpet-like, to Nikki.  So the last three weeks of the contest basically invovled the others doing stuff while Nikki and Pete indulged in face-sucking dullitude.  Oh, but wait!  What’s this?  Pete’s had a vision?  His dead friend came down from Heaven and told him he’d win Big Brother?  What on odd thing for a dead person to make the trip down here to tell you.  Still, now we know that if Pete wins Heaven still exists!  Also, if you clap your hands hard enough then the fairies will all come back to life.  The most shamelessly manipulative tactic ever seen on Big Brother.  Terrifying.  Still a lock to win, I fear, but I kind of hope not now.

Aisleyne:  Poor old Aisleyne.  Seems like everyone’s had it in for her from the moment she popped out of her box in week 2.  Late arrivals never tend to fare too well, but when she refused to bow down to King Cock Sezer’s bullying (indirectly getting him kicked out in the process), it was maybe possible that she was a stayer.  Her fighting spirit saw her outlive Grace, Lisa and Lea before she was given a fate worse than eviction – the House Next Door.  This quite broke her spirit, and resulted in the return to the main house of a humbled, weepy Aisleyne who flinched at the very mention of the word "nomination".  At first it looked like she’d be all right; she had her defenders (Imogen, the most wonderful follower a leader could have) and, in those days, Jennie both fought Ais’s corner.  But that support has been whittled away and finally destroyed with the return of Nikki, who had taken in the anti-Ais bias of BB’s satellite shows and had her sighted as the enemy to be ruthlessly hounded (something which I can’t help but feel has been picked up by the twitchily-savvy housemates and turned them against her).  Now on the final stretch, it’s just possible that Aisleyne could win it.  Nailing my colours to the mast – as if you hadn’t guessed – I want her to do it.  And remember, if she loses, A UNICORN WILL DIE.

Cutting edge

Greetings from sunny London, centre of International Terrorism! Very exciting to find that there have been raids by armed officers just minutes (on a bus) from the very spot I’m typing from. Meanwhile, everyone intending to make a flight today is packing their wallet into a clear plastic bag and generally queueueueueing. Still, they all seem very sanguine about it. Good for them! As many have pointed out, it’s this or being blown to bits over Boston. Which would you choose?

In other news, can Big Brother finish now, please? Endemol appear to have broken it.

Miscommunication

Sitting on a train. Boiling. Some bastard has pulled the emergency cord. May die while driver walks down the track to the last carriage. Urge to kill rising.

It’s not easy

I find that I’m increasingly reaching for my blog entries.  I’m desperate for subjects on which to write.  Not because there’s nothing happening, but because, well, who cares?  I could say things like "I love bitchy Daleks" or "Endemol’s attempts to keep Jayne in the house for one more week is tragically transparent" but what’s the point?  I mean, did you see Love Island?  I won’t make the point that it’s no longer Celebrity Love Island, and I won’t bother talking about anything that happened in it because it’s been done elsewhere, and by funnier and more incisive people than I.

So that’s TV over with.  What about the real world?  Do you think I’m insane enough to open this blog up to politics?  I mean, I may be desperate for comments but not if they’re all nutty ones from people with bees in their bonnets.  Note how the real world is shorthand for "current affairs" not "The Moth’s life", because no.  Although I can say that it’s spider season again, which means that.. well, this morning I opened the door to take the recycling out and there was a perfect, beautifully woven web at face-height across the door.  Nice!  That got short shrift from me, and a newspaper was deployed to break up the arachnid artistry.  Try writing moving messages about pigs if you don’t want me to smash your home, dudes!

Also, ants.  One never likes to, you know, kill ants.  But right now it’s us or them.  I can’t sit at the computer and be covered in insects.  No.  Can’t happen.

Somewhat unapologetic

Wow, been a while since I posted, sorry. And since I last posted, a televisual event of major significance has begun!

I refer, of course, to Big Brother Seven. Ahh. Every year I get more entrenched in my love for Endemol’s televised sanatorium. I think at one time I was even a bit apologetic in my liking of it. “Yeah, but it’s, like, a social experiment and really interesting and that”. Fuck that, you know it’s all about who said what about whom and what they did under the blankets with whatsit and how the nominations went and that. This year is already aces. Sezer’s eviction renewed (or maybe created) my faith in the Great British Public (91.6%!!! In a three-way vote! Woo!) after their depressingly obvious dismissal of Bonnie. And the next big eviction (Grace) will be just as satisfying, though I expect the interview will be more fierce than Sezer’s was.

And I’m liking people! Aisleyne is great, she’s coming over very well indeed – perceptive, straight-talking, good-natured. So I expect her to be kicked out very shortly. Pete – slight dificulty dealing with conflict in any way aside – is also very sweet, much sweeter than anyone else in the house. He probably doesn’t deserve to be in there.

And Nikki, of course. The demented Harpy-child is the most consistently entertaining person in there. You’ve gotta love Nikki. You just couldn’t live with her.

Apologies for any typos, by the way. The real computer is busted up and in the repair shop. This is Flppy’s work laptop.

mysterious.

Last night I saw an advert in the window of WH Smith.  It read "Liked The Da Vinci Code?  Then you’ll love these.." and there, amongst the likes of "An illustrated guide to the Da Vinci Code" and "The Michelangelo Code" was… "The Da Vinci Code" by Dan Brown.  Oh, really, WH Smith?  If you liked The Da Vinci Code you’ll love the exact same thing?  Ya think??

Anyway, yeah.  I’m off to see the movie tonight.  Very excited.  It sounds *dreadful*.  But in a hilarious, point-and-laugh sort of way.

Oh, dear.

Montenegro seem to have split with Serbia.  Fine, sure, okay.  But you know what this means?  Another Balkan state to vote for all the others come Eurovision 2007.  Bah, stupid splitters.

Not that it mattered this year.  The best monsters won.

Ron Howard is GINGER and BALD.

We have a new bed.  If HTML worked in these emaily posts, I’d put in a link, but suffice to say that it comes from the easily-Googled Warren Evans and it rocks.  Between the new feather-and-down duvet and the feather-and-down mattress topper, one feels at night as if one is encased in a beautiful, soft coccoon.  Lovely.  Last night, we – in a completely innocent way – went to bed at 9pm, just to enjoy the feeling of being in bed.  Brand new linen, ironed (god, I’m not doing that every time.  I had the day off to let the guys in to build the bed, turns out I *actually* needed it to iron the linen), no more futon mattress…  Just so good.

Okay, well, get on with your day, good people.