I Don't

So the Pope has resigned.  Wonder if he's planning on joining 5ive to replace Jay on the Big Reunion Arena Tour?

The ex-Nazi says he's too old to carry on his role with so many challenges facing the church. Age is not an excuse for ignorance and intolerance. Let's hope the next winner of Pope Idol preaches love, compassion and safe-sex.  The catholic church and their leader have refused to budge on their condemnation of contraception, masturbation and anal sex.  Why?  Because any form of birth control impacts the growth of their church.  Over 20 million of their faithful followers in Africa are living with AIDS and over 1 million die every year. The Pope's power over these people could put an end to this tragedy and also stop female circumcision and gay Africans being murdered.  Turning a blind eye to this genocide and barbaric cruelty is surely a sin of epic proportions.  Isn't it?

Despite my personal view of organised religion I have to admit that when it comes to gay marriage I'm sitting on their side of the fence but not for the same reasons.  They spout a load of crap about marriage being all about the procreation of children.  They quote the writings of ancient story tellers who claim to have been personally given the word of their God via a burning bush, a thunderous voice up a mountain or from a fit bloke with white wings.  Seriously?  Now this might have worked in ancient times with a load of dim witted, primitive goat farmers but it just doesn't wash with anyone with half a modern brain.  Sure it's a great story but then so is The Little Mermaid.

If I came back from a hike up Ben Nevis claiming to have the word of God on my Android Tablet people would just think I'd had a few too many cans of Special Brew last night or shove me on Jeremy Kyle for a drugs test.

So what do I think of gay marriage?  Well I could take it or leave it if I'm honest.  Why would I want to walk down a church aisle with my beloved when clearly the landlord doesn't want me there and he thinks I'm an abomination?  It's like an unemployed Rangers striker going for a try out for Glasgow Celtic.  I'm all for equal rights but sometimes just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.  The thought of standing at a church alter with a reluctant priest smiling at me through gritted teeth is like the Queen giving Margaret Thatcher a life peerage.

I'd much rather have a Civil Partnership ceremony with my close friends and family at Blackpool Pleasure Beach and pushing the mother in law on The Big One.  So much more personal and without feeling like the service was just lip service. A blessing from a smiley lady vicar in Harry Ramsden's over cod n chips would be so much nicer than your mates mumbling along to Jerusalem or some old Auntie, with a smoker's cough, wheezing though The Lords Prayer.

So don't expect to see me sweating at an alter any time soon.  I'm sure God is a good God and will love me wherever I decide to tie the knot.  I'm convinced he/she will be happy for me even if my bride is a carpet fitter called Dean, as long as we're decent human beings. That's what's important, isn't it?

I don't feel inclined to join the the hoards of hypocrites who wed in a church to get pretty photographs.  Most of them these days haven't stepped into a church since they were baptised and unlikely to be back until they're in a big wooden box.

Whatever floats your boat though but let's not pretend that church weddings are all about faith and religion. Modern weddings are about a display of wealth and taste and feed a massive industry. If the church want to reclaim their faithful then maybe they should start listening to the people.

I think Simon Cowell should run the next Pope vote.  Let the people decide their winner by text and donate 50% of the network charges to send condoms to Africa.

Anti-Social Media

Ten years ago, almost to day, I was going through a very dark time in my life.  They say bad things come in threes and in 2003 it was my turn to try and and cope with a trio of blows that would test my inner strength to the max. Unable to cope with the real world, I stumbled across a community of more lost souls who spent their time reaching out for attention on strange internet forums.

These places were full of bored housewives, would-be sexual predators with erectile dysfunctions, psychotic teenagers and the clinically depressed .  All of them displaying acute symptoms of low self esteem and an overwhelming need to be popular.  We were all a bit odd and escaped real life into this Matrix-like world to laugh, bitch and argue with a bunch of unseen, online friends and enemies.  Unable to cope with the isolation of our lives, these places gave us a sense of belonging.  A place where you could hide your pain behind a keyboard.  This wasn't always a pleasant experience.  Some used the power of anonymity to unleash their pent up anger and frustrations on the weaker members of the pack.  Lonely and powerless in their own lives they got their kicks from online bullying.

Everyone had a role to play in our Sims Town and mine was to be the smutty gay boy with an innuendo for every occasion and a bag of bitchy quips.  Some things never change!

There were lots of lovely people on the forums and I still hear from some of them now.  They made me laugh through some sad times and I will always be grateful for that.

These social outcasts became my world and in the process I lost the ability to have normal relationships and communicate without my laptop.  It was my drug of choice, more powerful than crack cocaine and just as psychologically damaging.  I was almost lost to my friends and family.  Everyone worried about my obsession with this unreal reality.

Looking back on that time I can now see why people were so concerned about my habit and the powerful hold it had over me.  It was a damaging and anti-social existence that overtook my life and pushed me to the fringes of society.

So here's the thing.  How did that unsocial life suddenly transform into Social Media in the last few years? The world that laughed at those strange forum freaks is now gripped by the smart phone drug and sharing their lives with strangers across the five continents.  The number of followers and 'likes' you have has become a way of defining your popularity and a big post count is seen as a worthy achievement.

What the hell changed?  Has the whole world become depressed and needy?

Don't get me wrong.  I still get a kick out of being silly on Facebook and Twitter and enjoy a bit of friendly banter and bitching on those sites.  I've even been known to post pictures of my lunch and tell the world that I've just sneezed a mouthful of curry over my laptop. Old habits die hard.

I'm just intrigued as to how my online illness became a socially acceptable lifestyle for millions?  My secret addiction is now as common as a cold.  A plague whose symptoms are now seen in all walks of life and in public too.  Millions of people are unable to function without  telling the world that their bus is late or the sky is a bit cloudy.  You can't enjoy a night out with your mates now without your smart phone so you can post a picture of a pint of lager.  It's almost never a great night unless you can prove it on Facebook with  a shot of you and your mates mugging at the camera with red eye and sick down your shirt.

Most people can't keep a conversation flowing through dinner now and have to fiddle with their phone to see if anyone has re-Tweeted their post or Liked a comment.  In our local curry house last night the diners seemed more interested in their iPhones than their human companions.  The table next to us were even tweeting each other during the meal and then commenting on each others tweets.  What's that all about?

Don't even get me started on the sport spoilers!  Not content to leak the football scores to people who would rather wait to watch the match on their TiVo box later they also insist on describing every bloody kick of the ball for the entire 90 minutes.  We hate football pundits on the TV so why do they think we'd enjoy their dull commentary?

There are some diamonds in the rough though.  The social media explosion has exposed the rich and famous.   Celebrities who would normally be protected by PR and media training are now let loose and showing their true colours.  High profile Twitter users like Rihanna, Chris Brown and Katie Price proving that not all publicity is good publicity.  Posting a photo of you smoking a joint in your knickers isn't big or clever. You'd never get really talented stars arguing with doped up teenagers on social media sites but it does make for good reading so please don't take their smart phones away :-)  I wonder what the world would be like now if Jesus had been on Twitter?  Imagine Hitler's Facebook page.

Now that so many people have succumbed to the virus it's a gold rush for marketing and advertising.  There's a captive audience out there.  Millions of abusers checking their timelines every 6 minutes and eagerly devouring every App that's thrown at them.  I'm ashamed to admit that I have 183 apps on my iPhone and get a buzz every time one of them sends me a notification. It's now big business for Big Business.  Even customer support is becoming something that you do via a handset than actually talking to a human being.  If I have a problem I can just tweet about it and within a few minutes I'll get a reply from @facelesshelper #sorted

Those of you who know me will know that I love social media and I'm still an addict.  I'm guilty of most of the above and I won't apologise for it.  Maybe I'm just peeved that my social disease is so widespread now.  How am I supposed to have any chance of  recovery now that people are too busy checking their friend count and sorting their Facebook albums to talk to me?

If you Like this blog on Facebook or give me a RT then maybe, just maybe, I'll start to feel loved again and you can help me rebuild my self esteem ;-)

Ginger's Nuts

Well that was the frostiest final since Nadia and Jason grimaced from opposite sides of the sofa.  Nutty Rylan looked lost and alone without his Daddy Razor and Claire from Steps. As usual, the dull Americans sat on the settee with blank stares like they were waiting for an STI check down the local clinic.

For all of two minutes, during the final ad break, I had a sudden loss of faith in the British public and started to panic that the Pratts might have won but I needn't have worried.  Queen Rylan was rightly crowned and had one of his dramatic meltdowns as the Yankee Chavs exited to a hail of boos from a sea of duffle coats and woolly hats. Spencer Pratt's eviction outfit was the same fleece he'd worn for three weeks.  Was he sponsored by Millets?  At least he was warm.  Poor Rylan forgot he was in Borehamwood in January and went out in a mosquito net and nipples like bullets.

I was really shocked that Razor was booted out first on the night.  He was a revelation in the house and so bloody funny.  Snoring, farting and letting his balls hang out all over the place he was up for anything and a totally great housemate from Day 1.  His bromance with Rylan was touching, genuine and brought us laughter every day.  His balls were also on display when he stood up to The Pratts whilst the other housemates just stood around like nervous Meerkats.  His warning from Big Brother for doing so was the low point for me this series as that's when it dawned on me that Channel 5 had a 'special' bond with their US imports and would do everything within their power to keep them happy and safe until the final.

What was it about these second rate actors that caused such a stir?  They spent most of their time in the house just sitting around or lying in bed moaning about how hard it was for them.  They were getting paid for being lazy sociopaths.  Maybe that's why so many of the Channel 5 audience could relate to them.  The Jeremy Kyle, benefits generation had found their very own role models.  The sort of people who voted online that they would rather dance (slut drop) like Heidi Pratt than be able to sing like Claire from Steps. Obviously Channel 5 know their audience and were handed their biggest ever ratings for the final.  However they shouldn't get too cocky.  Channel 4 got too big for it's boots and manipulated the audiences so much that the core fans drifted away in the end.  I just hope we don't get more actors in the next series being paid to perform a role.  Please leave that to shows like TOWIE and Geordie Shore and let us see true personalities shine in the Big Brother House.

Claire was the next one to get the boot on Friday and as much as I love her she didn't really leave much of an impression except when she sat on the Diary Room chair.  She was really nice and Mumsy but could have done with some of Razor's balls instead of running off to the bedroom to fold jumpers every time there was a whiff of an argument.  How she survived so long in Steps is a miracle and obvious now why her departure was such a surprise to her band mates.  She's a people pleaser who avoids conflict at all costs.  A gay icon?  A diva? More like a jelly baby in Ugg boots.

Toadie was third!  How the hell did that happen?  Nice bloke but he almost made The Pratts look interesting.  I'm sure he only used the show to get a free gym pass for a month to work off his Christmas dinner.

So the scene was set for the showdown we all wanted.  Rylan v The Pratts.  Mr Entertainment pitted against a pair of big sulks.  Thankfully Essex fun prevailed over LA fakery and the X Factor's X Ginger became Reality TV Royalty.  Hopefully we've seen the last of Spencer and Heidi until they return to promote Heidi's challenge to Adele.  The hills are alive with the sound of a Wii Sing Party!

Brian and Emma were on sparkling form this series and both seemed to have found their stride.  This wasn't a classic CBB, despite the ratings.  Let's hope Channel 5 get a group of bigger personalities next time.  Or at least make sure that everyone has a personality!

Until the summer then. Good, but could do better xxx

Sorry but just been distracted by Keith Chegwin in pink satin trying to be romantic on Dancing on Ice.  That'll do pig ;-)

Reality Bites

OK so since my last blog I've kinda overdosed on a deluge of 'reality' TV that has left me bloated, bleary eyed and clinically agoraphobic.  To friends and family I'm blaming a bad back and our Arctic weather. However, between you and me my condition has escalated due to my crippling addiction to rubbish telly.  My TiVo box is like my dealer.  No matter how hard I try to get clean the little bugger will pull me down again with reality shows that it's found on channels I've never even heard of!

After the Christmas and New Year holidays, the country starts thinking about summer holidays in an attempt to brush away those January blues.  We used to have Judith Chalmers looking like a smiley tangerine wandering around a romantic Sorrento with a silk rose or wine tasting in the Dordogne in a clapped out Citroen.  Now we get torn foreskins in Magaluf and shit stained mattresses in Kavos.  Sun, Sea and Simple Teenagers. Judith 's travelogues were compulsive viewing and not once did she flash her tits or use a syringe of paint stripper to get her in the mood for a night under the Mediterranean stars.

ITV re-branded with a new look that made our Olympic logo look sophisticated.  They made a desperate attempt to rescue Dancing on Ice by bringing back their pantomime dame with a new hairline and adding one of Nicole Scherzinger's backing dancers to the judging panel.  What they should have done is got rid of that stringy WAG from Norn Iron who is about as likable as a cold sore.  Their trump card was to blow the budget on Pamela Anderson to help her fend off the bailiffs.  They resorted to desperate measures when their cash cow landed up in the bottom two in week one. Not even a wardrobe malfunction and a flash of ageing nipple saved her from an icy reception.  In the end she lost out to a chubby Keith Chegwin, in turquoise satin. He seemed unusually high for someone who claims to be addiction free now.  Lauren Goodger was next for a clubbing after lumbering around with a blank expression as if she knew the predators were hanging around the ice waiting for her to come up for air.

Next up was Tom Daley splashing in my face every Saturday night. This is what the pause button on the TV remote was made for.  You can really savour Tom's clean entry.  However my only gripe is why they employed the TOWIE live crew for this prime time extravaganza.  I'm sure live TV is tricky but a few rehearsals wouldn't go amiss before the red light comes on.  Despite the dodgy direction there's been some real TV gold like our Tom trying desperately not to look at Anthony Ogogo's skimpy trunks.  Thankfully wardrobe have managed to talk Vernon Kay into long trousers.

Another gem is BBC3's Don't Tell the Bride.  Don't tell the bride that your future husband is a selfish wanker who will spend most of the wedding budget on a week long Stag night in Prague.  He'll also expect you to say your vows under water in Tooting swimming baths with a Star Wars reception and a Jabba the Hutt wedding cake.

Toddlers & Tiaras has created pint sized reality TV monster in Honey Boo Boo, juvenile pageant queen.  A redneck child from middle America who is like a trailer park version of Shirley Temple.  Surrounded by a family of foul mouthed couch potatoes who survive on Piggly Wiggly coupons she has become the white trash heroine for a legion of mobile home dynasties and backwood paedophiles. She could probably be the first female president of the US if her young kidneys survive the pints of Red Bull her loving parents give her to help her shine on stage.

Before I finish I guess I have to talk about Celebrity Big Brother.  Well it's obvious that Rylan is going to win.  He's the only one in there with the presence and personality to win the crown.  Despite the efforts at Channel 5 Towers to persuade us that Spencer and Heidi Pratt are worth their $500.000 fee, they are pissing in the wind.  These American weirdos have about as much charisma as Gordon Brown.  They have completely spoiled the show this year with their downbeat demeanour and negativity.  They're about as real as Lance Armstrong's apology for drug taking on Oprah.  The whole show is focused on their reactions to every situation and therein lies the problem. They suck the life out of the house with their inability to show any form of human emotion and just sit around all day moaning in mono-tone with their scary lifeless eyes.  Poor Brian and Emma are having to big them up at every opportunity. That must be the hardest task that Big Brother has set this year.

So Gillian was evicted on Friday. No great surprise. Kathy Beale without a script was about as interesting as  the Stonewall Pans show on Best Direct TV.

Despite this yawn-fest I'm really looking forward to a summer of BB2013.  Big Brother is still the best reality show ever and will survive this disappointing blip.

I'd rather bet on that than the survival of Jordan's latest publicity seeking marriage to a stripping plasterer she met a few weeks ago.  Then again a plasterer could be quite an asset in the make-up department for the ex-beauty.  Taylor Swift and Harry Styles seem like a more long haul romance. Katie Price is a bit like Blockbuster and HMV.  No self awareness and not prepared to accept the rest of the world has moved on.

Right I'm done now. TiVo is tempting me again.  Off to watch America's Next Fattest Farming Dwarf Truckers.

HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!

I Used To Be A Celebrity...Get me In There!

Train fares are going up.  The whole country is in varying stages of the new cold virus.  Argentina want the Falklands back again and I've put on so much weight over the Christmas holidays that I've just broken our toilet seat.  Just when my glass was getting half empty, Channel 5 have only gone and kicked off the new season of Celebrity Big Brother to help us get over those January blues.  It's a perfect antidote to the dullest Christmas telly ever.

OK so first out of the gate was Frankie Dettori looking like Andy Capp after a gastric band op.  Not so much an Italian Stallion.  More of a Latin Verne Troyer.

OMG! SHUT UP!  It's Ryland off X Factor. Definitely this year's front runner but his form might be damaged by his BFF. Katie Price is sure to use this as an opportunity to get herself in the tabloids for the next couple of weeks.  With the odious publicity whore supporting him, it could be the kiss of death.  If he does win I suspect she'll be all over him like a rash and we could be looking at marriage number three.  She's tried straight and bi/tranny and so a gay husband would seem to be the next obvious headline grabber.

Paula Hamilton.  A posh ageing ego who thought Toadfish from Neighbours was a Channel 5 runner. Awkward!  It's like Jasmine Lennard Mk2. For someone who claims to have so much style and a glamorous life she looked like a novelty hot water bottle when she entered the basement.

Trisha seems a bit like her TV shows.  Comfy Sunday night in slippers with your Mum.  Hopefully her Kirby roots will surface as she looks like she has the potential to be the head bridesmaid on a hen night to Blackpool.

Toadfish from Neighbours was sent to the basement but that won't bother him.  Coming to London and sleeping rough wherever they can find a floor just comes natural to our friends from down under.  Let's hope he doesn't over stay his welcome.  Aussie house guests can be more difficult to get rid of than a cold sore.

Gillian Taylforth was up next. An Eastend legend who is famous for giving birth to Ian Beale and giving blow jobs on the M25.  An obvious choice for the Queen's next birthday honours.  More deserved than someone who can ride a bike a bit fast!

It was totty time after the break and we got a nervy Scottish hunk with nice calves and some thick bird called Miss Banghard with big bangers.  Yes that's her real name.  You couldn't make it up could you?

Razor Ruddock was obviously just dragged in from the local pub after Jim Davidson's past came back to haunt him.   You could almost smell the stale lager and cigarettes as he lumbered along the runway.

Claire from Steps stepped up next showing off her curves.  That was me being polite and PC!  Claire obviously decided that slobbing around in the house for 3 weeks was preferable to doing a fitness DVD.  I love Claire and she's my winner at the moment.  She seems like a bit of a fragile character so let's hope the Big Brother House doesn't turn into a Tragedy for her.

They saved the worst till last.  Two strange American reality TV wannabes.  Speidi are the product of the US version of TOWIE and just like our own 'talent' from Brentwood they have an unhealthy and delusional view of their own celebrity.  They'll be good value and the obvious villains of the piece but a bit too contrived for my liking.  They might be a pair of pratts but at least they've proved on previous shows that they can play their parts without scripts and edits so a more safe bet than James Argent and Joey Essex.

This year they've gone all Downton Abbey and introduced an upstairs downstairs theme.  Let's hope it's not like the Downton Christmas special.  That was like watching paint dry until they killed off one of the stars in the final reel. Actually that might not be such a bad idea.  'Big Brother House.  This is Brian. The public have been voting and the housemate who will die tonight is..........'

Great to have Big Brother back.  Will it be a good one?  I'll get back to you :-)

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!