Big Riddance

Big Brother really is a pile of rubbish now. I watched a bit this evening before putting the dishes in the washer. The latter was far more entertaining.

Big Brother Bex

This year's BB lot started off as quite normal (ish). But they are horrible, most of them. Bex, who I initially thought was funny and self-deprecating, is a twonk. She is childish, spoilt, spiteful and argumentative. When she broke Mo's belt, I was hoping he'd go mad at her but he is obviously peed off with such idiocy.

I also think Jennifer is horribly manipulative. She is up for eviction against Rex who seems to annoy people mainly because of his bossiness in the kitchen (he is a chef). I hope Jen is voted out – she is the sort of woman that most girls will have encountered in the school playground at some point. She plays people off against one another while seemingly untouched by the fallout. Not nice.

Couch potato

I planned to go out to join some friends in the pub last night but instead, fell asleep on the sofa in front of Big Brother, which was a bit lame (the programme and the slumbering).

So I slapped some butter on fresh bread and slathered on a dollop of toffee sauce from the Hawkshead company. Delicious. Then, I watched Sex and the City on Paramount with the rain pattering outside.

I realise that this is all a bit lazy but after the six-hour guitar hero marathon the previous night, far too much wine and insufficient sleep, I was flaking out. Sometimes it's good to be a slob.

PS: BB Sylvia really is quite odd – the thing with her and Luke was simply not funny. She's like a petulant three-year-old but with the hormones of a dog on heat. Ah well, eviction night tonight, eh Sylv?

Cringarama BB

Is there anything more cringeworthy than someone throwing themselves at someone who is patently not interested? Sylvia has excelled herself in that department. The way she followed new housemate Stuart (pictured left) around was puppyesque – and I am pretty sure he wanted to shake her off his leg. His body language was a lesson in 'get stuffed' (or as Miranda in SATC might say: 'He's just not into you!'

Last night, he told Jennifer that he was only in the house for the experience and nothing else (i.e. no Sylvia). While I find Kenny Everett – oops, I mean Stuart – a bit odd, I did feel sorry for him. If it had been a woman targeted by a man, there would have been uproar. It's a shame that Jennifer, who purports to be Sylvia's friend, didn't just tell her that Stuart didn't fancy her. Instead, we now have a situation where Sylvia's all angsty about her poor boyfriend In The Real World and is hankering after the Everett lookalike (why, I have no idea).

Anyway, as tedious as all this might be, it's not half as dull as the Dale-Jennifer mating dance. Uggggggh...

PS: Seeing as I was away, I didn't get to talk about Alexandra's efforts. Hmm, yes. She reminds me in some ways (mainly in terms of her attitude) of the lovely Ground Floor Girl – our neighbour – who is a difficult, defensive moron. I was listening through the wall recently (well, I am a journalist and quite frankly her voice is quite loud)... and she was telling her visitor, an estate agent , that she is off to travel the world soon. Shame.

Apprenticed

So, Lee won The Apprentice last night. Despite lying on his CV and then blatantly lying to the interviewer who questioned him (in the last episode), he won. Still, compared to the rest of them, he seemed like a decent bloke. Apart from when he yelled at Sara.

It was a good finale, but then, I have loved the show since it started four years ago. I was slightly surprised that Claire and Lee beat the other two, based on their 70s-esque commercial for 'Roulette' fragrance, but they did actually work together and didn't snipe with members of their team (made up of previously fired contestants).

I didn't think Helene stood a chance of winning; she seemed quite dour and negative a lot of the time. Alex came across as a tad sulky, but I think he'll go far. As will Claire (but I do think Sir Alan was worried she'd drive him crazy). Lee had boundless enthusiasm and seemingly, was a gentleman. There was no contest, really.

So, now that The Apprentice is over for another year, the question is: do I let myself succumb to Big Brother? Hmm.

Yes, yes, I did. I did.

My name is Mellifluous Dark and I watched Big Brother last night.

And by the time the third person – or was it the fourth? – trotted down the stairs, I had favourites. Oh dear.

I can't remember all of their names but the ones that immediately spring to mind for being instantly annoying are:

• The Leo woman (Alexandra?) who thinks she is 'it' (and gives a bad name to us Leos)
• Dale the 'ruthless' sex maniac
• The dancer bloke – just seemed really desperate

And the (initially) interesting ones:
• Luke, the teetotal student who doesn't swear
• Sylvia from Somalia – there's something about her I find interesting
• Rebecca the excitable lass who really should be irritating but is infectiously happy, and that's no bad thing; I do fear she'll go up and down in the mood stakes though
• Rex – he will cause fireworks, which will be interesting at any rate
• Mohamed – I am intrigued to see what he's like in the house
• Kathrey – OK, so she's utterly nuts. But I like her.

The rest? Well, we'll see. I can't remember their names. But, as you can see, I have taken a) the trouble to watch the show and b) the time to write this post.

Whooosh – that's the sound of the summer flying by...

(But seriously, no, I am not going to watch every night. If the weather is crapological then I might. But I intend to watch now and then (probably for all the evictions and maybe a night or two on top), but that's it. I am a journalist. I need to be well-versed in popular culture. Innit?)

June greetings

I would like to wish you all a happy June ("white rabbits").

I will be back soon. Properly. I will blog again. Quite a lot. And it is not because Big Brother is on this week.

No.

NO.

NO!

Russell Brand in my head

I watched Russell Brand (and the other guests Ashton Kutcher and Ronnie Corbett) on Jonathan Ross last night. And then I had a dream about him (more later).

I've always liked Russell Brand – since his very early days presenting Big Brother's Big Mouth a few years ago. I find him funny and love his way with words – he is articulate, that's for sure. He's a mad, pirate-esque rogue, and I like the fact that he is different and is controversial. People who call him stupid are sadly mistaken. One thing he is not, is stupid. I can see why he irritates some people but he is someone you either get or you don't. To call him stupid is stupid.

Anyway, last night, in my dream, I was staying at Russell's house, which was in fact a castle. It was a large place set in rambling grounds. It had tiny windows (like slits where arrows would be fired from) and larger ones, that had sturdy locks. He had cooked dinner for me, S, and some other people who had been invited and set it out on a large wooden table. There was a graveyard outside, a stormy, gothic place with fallen stones and crumbling headstones on uneven ground.

The scene changed and I was back inside, in a hall that reminded me of school assembly, and there was Russell, flitting in and out like a big, black crow of a man. Next thing, I realised I had lost my green handbag with all that it contained (I don't have a green handbag and if I did, it wouldn't be the shade of green that appeared in dreamland...). Someone had stolen my purse, keys, phone... Russell was very upset by this. I felt frustrated that I'd have to sort all those things out. Then, Russell started to show me various antiques around the place. And that was that. I dare anyone to psychoanalyse that one!

Gorillas in a twist

So, certain people think the Cadbury's advert with the gorilla playing the drums is racist because it was shown on Channel 4 after Brian (who, for those who didn't watch it, is black)... won Big Brother. What the hell?

Does it not say more about those whining about 'racism' that they go on about offending black people when they see a gorilla?????? How incredibly idiotic.

I watched that advert and didn't jump to thinking: "Oh, my, that's a gorilla – that's offensive to black people. Let's ban it." For goodness sake, get a grip, people. Get a bloody grip.

Bri's a winner

I'm glad he won. It was a close-run thing between him and the twins, I guess. And Liam was a good third place. Any of those would have sufficed.

I'm not quite sure what else to say... I didn't immerse myself in BB this year as much as I have on previous occasions, but yet (despite myself) I felt that the last six were nice people. Somehow, the really annoying ones didn't sneak beneath the radar. Hmmm.

I wonder whether Bri will indeed spend all his money at Lakeside shopping centre, as he has indicated may be the case... I hope he gives the cash to his mum for safekeeping. It would be a shame if the entire £100,000 was spent on Converse All Stars and Abercrombie & Fitch gear.

So, this was not a year of emotion, as when Nadia won, or yawns (when Cameron/Anthony/Kate Lawler won). But it was an OK year. And, I suppose, that's OK. OK?

Crafty hairwash

First, I dreamed last night (in detail) that the dressings had fallen off the area where they cut the mad cyst thing away. Luckily, it's all still intact. I have managed to shower without wetting the dressing, but sorting my hair out will be another matter. I shall, therefore, use the situation as an opportunity to freshen up my hair colour (and craftily incorporate a hair wash) later at the hairdresser's.

Second, I have just had breakfast for lunch: a perfectly boiled egg and a buttery, toasted muffin. Tasty. I have a selection of things for pudding. Lots of fudge, bananas, biscuits, toffee, Kendal mint cake, rice pudding, a Caramac and an apple. It's virtually a Mallory Towers tuck box.

Third... it's the eighth BB final this evening. Will you be joining me to celebrate the making of the next nonentities? Get the popcorn ready...

Reiki, BBQ and BB

The sun's shining, which is good as Sam and Christine, the couple next door, are having a barbecue later today. They've had the meat specially delivered from a farm in Wales and, as they are very much on the right side of the breadline, the food promises to be good. Christine works in events organisation and knows how to throw a good party.

Actually, if Sam and Christine were on any kind of breadline, it would be Poilâne. I interviewed M. Poilâne once – he was a lovely man, full of Gallic charm and a saucy grin. He was short and I am tall; his eyes were often level with my décolletage.

During the interview, he offered me delicious coffee and platters of butter and tasty sourdough bread. He sadly died a few years ago while flying over water in his private helicopter. Why do wealthy people travel in helicopters?!

Prior to the barbecue, GFG's friend Sarah is coming to see me to perform Reiki for an hour or so. Now, I have no idea whether it will work, and I've only spoken to a few people who have had the treatment (all positive reports) but I am intrigued. Let's face it, two types of medication and a restrictive sleep programme haven't exactly turned my sleep world around. Next on my list are acupuncture and yet more exercise. Reiki will involve an hour of lying down, which sounds good to me.

I worked from home yesterday. Well, I say worked, but my head ached and I felt terrible, so only accomplished half a day's worth. I did some kung fu – just a little – before dinner, and my headache lifted. I think we know where this is going... (More exercise and having to work this weekend to catch up...)

My friend, SS, who did my Tarot cards earlier this week, popped over for a cup of tea and asked me to read his cards yesterday afternoon. I haven't read anyone's cards for a while but they were spot on despite the pressure in my head. He was pleased.

SS also brought over some chocolate cake (we live within 20 minutes of one another and when we are both working from home, occasionally take a slice of cake to the other in return for a quick cup of tea). Due to the blasted sleep programme, I had to watch as SS ate his cake, which looked delicious. My slice is in the fridge, luscious and forbidden.

Talking of doing things you shouldn't, I watched – and enjoyed – Big Brother last night. It was very amusing watching Charley. She is vile but entertaining, and I maintain that without her in the house, all you'd have is a programme filled with shrieking, vacuous idiots whose only conversation revolves around hair-straighteners and the Chanelle-Ziggy non-romance.

The funniest bit was when Charley went back into the house after her fake eviction and told everyone that the crowd's banners, plastered with her face and name, meant they loved her: "They really LOVE ME! Oh, my God, I'm just being honest. THEY LOVE ME SO MUCH. Oh, I LOVE you all out there!" Just how wrong can a girl be?

Big Brother is losing me

Have to say, I am a) either slipping from the demographic at which BB is aimed or b) BB is exceptionally bad this year.

Usually, there are one or two people who engage me and make me almost fervent that they deserve to win. Nadia, for example, and Shilpa in the celebrity version. And then there were proper villains, such as Makosi, Maxwell, Saskia and Grace. This year? Hmm, not sure.

Last night, I watched the programme from the bit where gurning Davina introduced more men to the house. Predictably, the lobotomised twins imitated goldfish, Charley leapt on to one of the incomers, wrapping her legs around his waist within five seconds, and all the females, bar Carole and Tracey, screamed like idiots.

The most amusing part for me was the eviction of that egotist Shabnam "I've had a blast" woman. Dearie me. All she could talk about in the house was wanting to get "a deal". I'll give her a deal if she shuts the eff up. How desperate and wannabe-esque can a person be? She interests me not, and frankly, I will not buy anything that puts her on its cover in an attempt to make me buy it.

She took an age to leave the house, telling everyone she "loved" them and promised to "look after" them (?!). It was deeply embarrassing to watch. During her studio interview, during which she went on and on about "having a blast" and "having energy", there was an uncomfortable lack of reaction. No one laughed at what she obviously reckoned were fabulous jokes. No one cared much.

Telly and that

Well, Simon Ambrose (left, looking elated) won The Apprentice. He is a good chap, very clever and personable, so no problem there. I thought Kristina (left, looking a tad fraught) might have won but always felt that Simon had more potential and was a more interesting person all-round. I love The Apprentice – one of the best programmes on the box, for sure. It inspires me.

The bits where snake-tongued Katie got her come-uppance in front of the live studio audience were class. It was quite something when Sir Alan said that if he had known what she was saying about the others behind their backs, he would never have considered employing her and that no one else would (now), either. That is one woman who should really learn to keep her mouth firmly closed. She is shameless.

I have no idea what happened in BB tonight. Do I care? Not really. The two programmes are, though genre-related, diametrically opposed.

More kung fu today. I ache like mad but it is all good.

Oh, and the weird things – signs – phenomenon keeps happening. Serendipity is my shadow.

Again... into the gutter

So, hands up if you aren't going to watch BB tonight and watch Emily call Charley a 'nigger'?

Channel 4, it appears, has had therapy and realised that one must take a stance on such things. I don't think Emily really meant it, meant it. But come on, how thick do you have to be to say that stupid word? For stupidity alone, she needed to be ousted. Ten minutes to go before That Music...

Post-BB update: I think they got rid of Emily as damage limitation to a) C4 and b) Emily. A 3am chucking out! If that 'n-word' debate had gone on tomorrow, the Shilpa Shetty saga would have looked like Play School. And I think C4 would have had to pull the show.

Today, I have been so tired that I cried on the train (little dribbles of tears; I clamped my eyes shut but my right eye leaked). I cried when my current boss, who is also my friend, sent me an email saying I looked sad and was I OK? (I let my hair fall in front of my face; no one saw, I don't think)...

I felt so wretched that I looked at the cast iron Anthony Gormley statues dotted around the South Bank – naked metal men standing at the edges of buildings and on Waterloo Bridge – and wondered how they felt, what they saw. How nuts is that?

I wondered whether they were contemplating their lives and whether they wanted to end it all, then and there. I was so melancholy that I played Portishead's Dummy on my red toy, an appropriate soundtrack for sure. Sour Times, indeed.

A mixed bag

To be honest, I'm a bit pissed off tonight. Maybe it's due to the full moon. Anyway...

• The 2012 logo is simply awful. It's a pile of technicolour vomit. I cannot believe it. Are we in some sort of sporting version of the Truman Show re the Olympics? It's got to be a pisstake, surely? My rabbits could have done better with random bits of card and strategic droppings.

• I listened to my new red thing today while working. It is lovely and I love it. So pretty and easy to use.

• I feel very old after watching BB tonight. I – erm – think I like Chanelle a bit. Her only crime is being young. She is not vacuous or obnoxious like the awful twins, Charley, Emily, Tracy or the especially horrendous Shaban. She's just young... Ziggy went up in my estimation after having a go at Emily. He's definitely got a brain, which is a plus. Seems like a nice chap.

• I feel crap after being crap at kung fu. I joked about being pathetic (because of my painful hip) at the start of the class and the instructor, N, jokingly said something related to my 'patheticness' that made my small reservoir of confidence dry up. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. It was a joke but he's right – I'm not really there – I am so fucking tired that I am seriously beginning to think I should knock it on the head for a while and go back in three months.

• My glossy black rabbit nicked a piece of toasted bagel from my plate (cinnamon and raisin) and ate it under the table.

• There was so much bad news in the free London paper I picked up this morning that I was depressed by page two.

So, here we go, into the gutter

Join me, why don't you, to roll joyously around in the muck that is Big Brother?

So, Ziggy, the new housemate, was introduced to the show last night. I just read his profile. He wants to work for Hugh Hefner and is also a banker. He is "up for romance" in the house.

The man's introduction to a houseful of women (who are mostly slightly insane, which is not a bad thing) was interesting to watch. He loves himself. And the women (on the whole) love themselves very much indeed... so will there be room for love to – manifest – in a houseful of self-love? Ugh, actually. Ugh.

Personally, I like Laura (left) a lot, so far. She is down to earth and was bothered when Lesley (the Women's Institute member and ex Cambridge don) sat alone outside. Laura said she was worried for Lesley as she was being so solitary. Most of the others didn't seem to even notice or care about Lesley. Bitchy Charley "a self-proclaimed it-girl" *vomit* has already picked Lesley out to be house underdog.

Carole is a good sort. She has taken on a matriarchal role (what a surprise) and is surprisingly game. She is old enough to have developed confidence that will win her friends in a houseful of insecure wannabes whose only real ambition is to appear on the front of Nuts, Zoo and possibly the adverts for Television X.

Most of the others don't do anything for me, but maybe that's because I'm not a 14-year-old boy (or 24-year-old man) who has got his willie out to watch the girls (two of whom are twins who describe themselves as 'twintastic') and prance – yes, really, prance – around in very little pink outfits. They are like lobotomised deer.

The twins are not only vacuous and dull but they are not as good looking as they reckon they are. Goodness, all that endless modelly posing in their bikinis... But I don't suppose the lads' mags will focus too much on their faces. And they can always be airbrushed.

As for Davina, well. Well, well, well. Not much changes, does it? The same tired repertoire. The same easy interviews (to come)...

Oh dear. What was that? The summer slipping by... Noooooooooooooooo!

No, no, no!

I watched The Apprentice. It was good, as always. Sir Alan Sugar was hilarious tonight.

But then... I watched...

the remainder of Big Brother.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo! What have I done?? And why do I already have a favourite (or two)? Why? Why have I taken a dislike (well, sort of) to one or two of Them? My life is not empty. So why have I done this? Why??

Am I the only one thinking this?

The news (well, some of it):

a) This story about a missing three-year-old has made me angry. Obviously, I cannot imagine the trauma that the parents are suffering, but - erm - is it right to leave your 'precious' three-year-old and her two-year-old twin siblings alone while you dine out? The parents were checking on Madeleine every half an hour, we are told. We are also told that the premises had a creche.

Now, how can the parents have relaxed and had a proper meal if they were checking up on their offspring every half hour? Why not put them in the creche? You were that concerned about your children that you checked every half hour, so why do things by half when it's your children – tiny children – that you're talking about? I really just don't understand. I hope that poor Madeleine is reunited with her parents swiftly. But, bloody hell, parents, what the fuck were you thinking?

b) A 17-year-old girl was murdered (and the images put on the internet for sick bastards that like that sort of thing) in Iraq. Her crime? Falling in love with someone from the 'wrong' community. Thousands watched as her relatives stripped, beat, kicked her and bashed her to death with rocks. I hope their God is watching them. It happens in the UK, too. Here, it's not as dramatic in terms of the 'theatrical' aspect but brothers, uncles and fathers have stabbed and strangled young women who dare to live according to their own rules. What kind of world is this?

c) Anyone notice how we have less and less time to save the planet, according to scientists? Eight years. Wasn't it hundreds, then 50, then 25? The report is scary. Those who have, or have yet to have children (assuming they want them) would be sensible to fear for any grandchildren.

d) So, today we hear that Jade Goody is pregnant (see earlier 'Big Brother' posts). Goodness, I must have a cynical side. I can't help but think it's a PR stunt. We'll see, won't we? Can anyone explain why this announcement was even on the news? She is best known for being on a reality TV show and for being an insulting bully.

Bye Jade, hello ducks

Davina McCall probably saved her career last night. She didn't gurn, fawn or dodge the issues when Jade was evicted from the Big Brother house - I suppose her bosses made damn sure of that. But fair play to her, she did a reasonably good job and conveyed the fact that Jade's star has plummeted into a muddy puddle pretty well. Sometimes just presenting the facts - shown as a series of clips of Jade screaming, swearing and behaving like a banshee - is enough. You don't really need to be a Dimbleby or a Paxman to sound controversial when dealing with subject matter that includes bullying and racism.

There was a curry on the table from the best Indian restaurant in the area plus two bottles of rioja and a jug of cold water (just in case) as the catchiest theme tune in TV history (with Coronation Street and Grange Hill coming close) thundered through the television speakers. Jade looked extremely nervous as Davina announced her demise (she received 82% of the vote). Shilpa was shocked and shaken and later had to be comforted by Ian, a pop star who used to sing in Steps, a group about which I know nothing. Jack, Jade's sexual plaything, seethed quietly, his snake eyes flicking from Jade to Shilpa and back again. Danielle's brain cell switched to the 'on' position as she began to worry about the implications of being associated with her 'best friend' Jade. Jo cried under her hat, saying she never thought she'd see a time when she would be upset about having no Jade under the same roof as her. She wasn't wearing her dressing gown, which she seems to have lived in lately, so that was probably a bonus for those within sniffing distance. The rest of the housemates looked uncomfortable or upset. Cleo, as usual, was a combination of both.

Anyway, Jade, unsurprisingly for someone who had been briefed by their PR/ a shrink/ the producers et al for an hour, claimed she 'nevvah meant it' and she 'wasn't racist' and was 'disgusted with herself'. OK. So you are just a bully then? I'm afraid I won't be buying your perfume, any mag or rag with your face on it, or reading your biography, dear. It should be noted here that Jade advised Danielle, on the programme's live feed yesterday afternoon that you can 'talk your way out of anything'. She tried very hard to do just that but as The Sun today shows, failed to make the media fall at her feet:


Note the 'free Shilpa Shetty DVD' offer in the Sun? Fabulous.

And here is the Mirror:

On another note, today is the first day in a while that I have woken up without a headache. I was awake on and off, until 2am, but stayed in dreamland until 10am, when the new neighbour downstairs did her morning 'heels on wooden floor' seemingly endless pacing. What Ground Floor Girl does walking up and down, up and down, is mystifying. Maybe she has one of those gadgets that measures calories lost according to steps taken. I just wish she'd pull on a pair of slippers if she insists on walking miles at home. The click-clack starts much earlier during the week, as she works in Canary Wharf doing something numerical and fiscal, and needs to leave far earlier than I could cope with.


It's sunny here today. In fact it looks like a beautiful early spring day, even though it is midwinter. There are little flowers blooming in the garden and the clematis is a shiny, dark green against the Victorian brick walls.

This picture was taken from the banks of a small island in the Thames - couldn't tell you how to get there as it was one of those places you would never plan to visit but just happen upon. It was a place we found by serendipity: turn right, then go fourth left, up to the end of this road, and, er, left again looks good, and on and on... The river was so high that it covered most footpaths. What remained above ground was very slippery. There weren't many water birds around but those that were there seemed very grateful for the bagful of crusty ends of Marks and Spencer golden wholemeal that they received this afternoon. It was cold - ear-tingly cold - but the air was fresh, the sun was bright and relaxation pulled us deeper with every step we took. Fresh cream chocolate éclairs that had somehow lain forgotten in the fridge overnight were a fitting reward.

Picture © Mellifluous Dark, all rights reserved