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