Friday, June 09, 2006

Taken from the Radio Times Bloggist

LET THEM EAT CAKE

It's the end of Lea's second shift as Big Brother's security guard. Determined to purge every ounce of fun from the task, Lea whines, complains and snaps crossly at Sam for the entire shift. What a pinch-faced, joyless old trout Lea is once her "good-time girl" mask drops. She's like Nikki, but without the charm. "I am knackered!" she growls, "I want to go to bed. I have been sitting in a chair for four whole hours."

Lea probably is exhausted. Her entire week has been taken up with her pointless, imaginary feud with Richard. She spends most of her time seething, in a gaping string bikini, behind a pair of massive dark glasses, looking like a centre spread in the bluebottle kingdom version of Penthouse. "He's trying to wind us up!" Lea tells her "friend" Lisa, fizzing with fury, "But look at us, eh? We don't care!"

Richard's heinous crime, earlier in the week, was to wade in and plead for calm when the house was attacking Sam. Richard told Lea to "act like a 38-year-old woman". This caused massive umbrage to Lea as she had been four different ages that day and was presently settling on 34. "I have been stabbed in the back!" Lea announced, switching her allegiance from wise Richard to Lisa, a 27-year-old geezer-bird with the vocabulary and world outlook of an underachieving eight-year-old.

It's not that Lisa is a back-stabber. More accurately, she's only as good as her very last conversation, as this is as far as her memory stretches. "Thank God we've got each other, eh?" drawls Lisa to Lea. Inside, Lisa dislikes Lea intensely as Pete prefers Lea to her, but this doesn't stop them both having one of their vomit-inducing sisterly hugs. "We've got each other!" shouts Lisa, dropping fag ash in Lea's hair extensions.

Later, when Richard is on lifeguard duty, Lisa throws his shorts in the pool. Everyone laughs uncomfortably. Richard sits calmly in his overly snug, pillar-box-red Speedos, his face a vision of Zen. "Revenge is a dish best served by a queen," he warns softly. The subtle menace of this statement is lost on stupid Lisa. I'd be scared if I were her: 78 days is a very long time for "a queen" who loves his wardrobe and hates it being messed about with to plot your bleak demise.

"Mr Kipling can breathe easy. Glyn's cake, though made with love, will be exceedingly bad "

Further outbreaks of stupidity are spotted in the kitchen where Sam, up for eviction tonight, is explaining the different facets of her personality. "I am very eclectic!" Sam says. "Wot's that? Ec-lect-ic?" asks Nikki, genuinely keen to learn. "Well, when I buy a book and I've read it…I keep it!" says Sam, "I don't give it away. I hoard it. Eclectic means 'a hoarder'". Sam clearly got this word from the Oxford Phonetic Dictionary for Thickies: "Eclectic" or "I collect it" - definition: A person who doesn't give away their books, but collects them.

In the kitchen, Glyn the chef is coping bravely with his task. Glyn literally can't boil an egg without a recipe: making him house chef is Big Brother's little joke.

Nikki helps nervous Glyn along by standing in the kitchen haranguing him like a small, shrunken Pauline Fowler. There is a small ever-present glint in Nikki's eye that saves her from being truly hateable. Nikki knows she's playing a role. The big, flapping arms, the tossed-about hair, the fake-posh accent, the diva remarks: Nikki knows if she stops all this theatrical behaviour for even a second, all that remains is a small, rather plain-looking, working class girl from Watford. Nothing remarkable at all. I honestly hope she doesn't go tonight.

"This toast is as dry as my a***hole!" Nikki tells Glyn pleasantly. Later, Glyn enters the diary room and is given a recipe sheet, which he reads studiously. "Big Brother wants you to make a cake," the voice says. "Oh, OK," Glyn says. "Are you OK with that, Glyn?" asks Big Brother. "Erm, OK. I think so," he replies. "Are you sure, Glyn?" checks Big Brother. "Erm, well, just one thing…" says Glyn, looking puzzled, "Which one is the oven? Is it the one with the hob on it? Is that an oven?" Mr Kipling can breathe easy again. Glyn's cake, though made with love, will be exceedingly bad.

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posted by Freddy @ Friday, June 09, 2006 Comments: 2

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