This Is A Man's World

The Big Brother House has always been a barometer for UK life and this year's deadbeats and desperados didn't disappoint on that front.  Genius casting produced a show that gave us clichés and gross caricatures to love and hate for 3 weeks.  However the really clever thing about Big Brother is that it's a show that should make us take a look at ourselves and society in 2012.  It started as a social experiment and despite the sleazy headlines and contempt from Daily Mail types it still manages to produce a cacophonous display of British behaviour.  Sometimes that's hard to watch but it's always fascinating and often a bloody good laugh.

Today's world is where a woman like Kristen Stewart is labelled a flagitious floozie and publicly humiliated for daring to have an affair whilst informally attached to her vampire lover.

It's a place where Big Brother's big busted Imogen Thomas becomes as hated as Myra Hindley for shagging a scraggy old footballer.  Said footballer, who has betrayed his wife, children and brother goes on to be rewarded with the Captaincy of the British Olympic Team and becomes the first Brit to ever win the international Gold Boot award.  What a hero!  He might be a 'see you next Tuesday' but who cares as long as he can kick a ball around a bit.

It's a world where an American R&B star can knock six bells out of his pop princess and still sell bucket loads of records and win the Best Male Video at the MTV Video Awards.  His rehabilitation being strangely masterminded by the female victim who still seems controlled and influenced by this thug.  I believe she referred to this as 'love'.  Ladies - this is romance in the 21st century.  Instead of a single rose down The Harvester expect a black eye and your false nails ripped off.

Women these days are so confused about their place in society that they are reduced to fighting amongst themselves.  What happened to sisterhood?  Did the Suffragettes really suffer for this?  Why do women hate each other so much?  The answer always comes back to one thing.  Men.

So back to my original point about Big Brother.  All of this was served up in massive dollops during Celebrity BB 2012.

With a house full of random hunks, the women were at each others throats from day 1 and the males were happy to allow this to play out.  They just preened and sat about in the sunshine like lazy lions and only roared when it was time for dinner or to stir up the oestrogen.

MC Harvey and his Mini Me were experts at this manipulation.  Harvey seemed to have acquired good morals for the camera despite his many years of shagging around with other people's chicks.  So much so that his campaign against flirty Danica meant he spent most of week 2 in the Diary Room convincing us that she was the whore of Babylon.  This is the man whose respect gauge seems to think that splaying your arse cheeks to show a 47 year old woman your chocolate starfish is just a bit of banter.

The little Judoka got the throw on Rhian too when the silly boy misread her signals and then sulked for a week at getting a knock back.  The nation felt for the poor kid and the Northern Jezebel just had to be taught a lesson.

Danica was a really easy target for being fit and friendly.  She was hated by Cruella De Lennard for being the fairest in the land.  She was done over by Mike for being the first bird to ever turn him down.  Oh the shame and on national telly too.  She had to go for making the situation uncomfortable.  You know what the real situation was?  It was why he's not done something to fix that fat nose with all the millions he's earned from being a twat on MTV.

Sure enough the Great British public evicted the women one by one for their 'disgraceful' behaviour.

The first man to go was Prince Lorenzo.  Apparently the viewers found him boring and he was evicted for being a thoroughly decent chap.  Man up Lorenzo and maybe try slapping a girl around next time to get more votes.

Our Alexis Colby and Krystle Carrington were Julie and Colleen.  I really prayed for Colleen to grab the disabled pensioner *cough* by her stringy mane and throw her in the pool.  The 2 old birds hated each other for no apparent reason but both of them vied for the boy's attention at every opportunity.  A particular low light was Ms Goodyear jiggling her tits in the jacuzzi and Mike asking if they were real.  Are you for real man?  Nobody would actually buy saggy bag breasts like that.

So in the end the bad little boys and bitchy girls were bested by a camp old queen in lippy and eye liner who was inoffensive, witty and sensitive to other's feelings.  Maybe there's hope for us yet!

Boys Just Wanna Have Crunch

Brian Dowling is so right for this job but every time he minces down the runway I can't help but think he's missing a duty free trolley full of fags, booze and green Ryanair teddy bears.  You can take the boy out of the cabin crew but you can't take the cabin crew out of the boy.  He smiles and checks out the audience like he's making sure they all have their seat belts fastened.  I like that he gets a bit prickly with the housemates he doesn't like and isn't afraid to ask the questions that we want answered.  I just wish he'd ditch the Olly Murs style suits.  Tight shiny trousers aren't flattering if you're smuggling excess baggage under your seat.

I don't watch Eastenders so might have been the only person watching on Friday who wasn't surprised to see the ample back of Cheryl Ferguson trotting up the stairs and out of the house.  Apart from blowing off on cue and discussing how her vagina was eating her bed sheets she was pretty unmemorable.  I reckon she deserved to be evicted for her crimes against outsize dresses. Someone give her the address for Simplybe FFS!

Cheryl's legacy was the pet name she uses for said vagina.  I know I'm probably not the best person to judge but is crunch an onomatopoeia or something to do with dunking biscuits?  Judging by the picture up there of Julie Goodyear I'm thinking she's more of a squelch than a crunch.

Julie is a bit of an enigma.  That's my polite way of saying she's a worn out old bitch.  Got to give her credit though as she's got them all fooled in there.  That's not really difficult though with the male housemates making a good argument against the theory of evolution.  If we'd relied on this lot then the human race would have died out many millennia ago.

I do enjoy the Evil Queen's bitchy chats with Julian but I guess that makes me a bit of a cliché.  Julian does seem a bit like a fish out of water in there but he still manages to come up with some cracking one liners.  The White Swallow Hotel was a particular highlight this week although the thought of getting an enema from Julie Goodyear makes me cough up a bit of sick.

What's to say about Jasmine Lennard?  What a vile and deluded creature.  She looks like the daughter of Skeletor.  The woman claims she can't get a man to stay for breakfast.  I'm not surprised.  Her conquests are probably covered in scratches and bruises in the morning from her bony extremities.  It must be like shagging a coat hanger.  Glad she didn't hang around for too long.

The rest of the housemates are a bit like lip filler at the moment.  Harvey and Ashley just seem to spend their time whipping their tops off and rolling around with each other on the Astro-turf.  Not that I'm complaining.

Thank God Mike's stopped lifting his t-shirt up at every opportunity. He's got the weirdest six pack I've ever seen.  It's like something hanging up in a butcher's window and definitely not giving this dog a bone.

Colleen's obviously not done her homework before she signed up. Was this really a good move for someone who says they don't like being judged or judging others?  Denise could've warned her pal but then she was drunk for most of her stay in the Big Brother house!

I keep forgetting that Martin, Samantha and the Papal Prince are in the house.  I don't mind Lorenzo but he's got one of those preppy haircuts that are popular with the Ralph Lauren, Hampton's set that makes me want to attack him with my hair clippers.  To be honest I'd settle for some Judo in the garden with or without his floppy fringe.

The two girlies are playing the boys at their own game but it's a dangerous line they're walking and they might find the male pack will turn on them when it comes to the crunch........or lack of it!

Get it! Got it! Good!

Sponge Bob Tiny Pants

This is just plain weird!

Land of Hope and TOWIE

Watching the Olympics this summer has had a profound affect on me.  No I'm not about to start training for the Omnium in Rio and neither am I inclined to even think about reaching for those Men's Rings in the gym.  However Team GB's heroic men and strapping women have given me a real sense of pride and reminded me   that in days gone by it was high achievement that was respected and not what apps you have on your iPad.

After months of grizzling about what a waste of money the London 2012 games were going to be I was hooked and emotional from the first bars of Elgar's Nimrod at the Opening Ceremony.  Who would have guessed that Great Britain and Northern Ireland would produce one of the best sporting events in recent times and come 3rd in the medal table behind the Godzilla and King Kong.

It wasn't all smooth sailing as Paul McCartney died an excruciating death in front of billions.  The Queen was heard to say that she didn't know Ken Dodd was still alive during his turgid attempt at Hey Jude.  A few Diddy Men might have helped.

Determination and bravery were on display across 28 digital channels every night and never more so than when Girl Power arrived in Stratford and the Spice Girls clung for their lives on the top of 5 black cabs. The drivers were weaving around the stadium like they were rushing home to catch Top Gear.  Geri Halliwell was so drained by the time they got to the last chorus of Spice Up Your Life that she'd gone from a nice amber glow to the colour of wet cement after 3 laps. I'm sure one of Posh's legs snapped as the cab swerved to avoid a dancer.

The thing I love about the Olympics is that it's the only time when you get a big pat on the back for losing.  No other sporting event celebrates the runners up just as much as the winners.  That's what makes it great for us Brits. We specialise at being also rans and make great use of the saying that it's the taking part that counts.  We think winning is a dirty word, or rather we try and discourage competitiveness so as not to upset obese and lazy school kids.  All that does is make the fat losers think it's OK to be fat losers. Doesn't it?

The Olympics are like the best reality TV ever.  Who needs TOWIE when you have hot guys and girls in skimpy gear flashing across your TV every night in high definition.  The men's 100m is a sight to behold in slow motion and why is it that rowers always seem to get a semi on the medal podium?  My little red button is worn out after all this excitement.

I've come to the conclusion that I want the Olympics to be on telly every week instead of junk like TOWIE and Geordie Shore.  The cast are much hotter and the emotions more real.  Gripping story lines of athletes struggling with injuries and battling against the odds are so much better than some orange idiot with a trout pout getting her arse cheeks lifted.

The Essex brood might wear outrageous clothes on their show but none of them can wear weird like Clare Balding and Sue Barker.  The Queens of Quality Seconds at Bon Marché.

You can also keep your Joey Essex's and Bachelor Spencer as the sweetest candy this summer was Tom Daley.  Looking worryingly like an eight year old who's gone into early puberty he captured the nation's heart whilst wearing a small blue elbow pad.  Did Stella McCartney run out of material?

I salute you Team GB.  You done good and I'm missing your muscles and sweat.  I miss the boys too.

So until the next major Lycra event I'm passing the time with more British losers on Celebrity Big Brother.

Til next time x