Brave New World

[susie_flo]

Good morning all.  I feel it is time to open the door to the squalid, paint-peeling, litter-strewn tenement corridor that is my mind.   I'm currently using up some annual leave in the most life-wasting way possible and can see no reason not to share.

Ok, starting with Sleb Big Bro... 

I fear the public may evict Ulrika on Friday.  This will be a shame, cos
a) she is proving to be rather an abrasive character and therefore should be left in the house to cause trouble;
b) her opponent is a page 3 girl whose name I can never remember but who is unlikely to add anything much to the mix. 

The problem is that Ulrika seems to have become one of those women that other women love to hate.  She's got all the hallmarks of a bitchy type (y'know... clearly a bit insecure and likes to make snidey comments about other women's makeup and stuff like that) but I will be sad to see her go...

I think that Terry Christian (king of the house) has nominated the wrong people.  First he was supposed to pick the housemate with the biggest ego... (how could he NOT pick Coolio, FFS!)  Then he was meant to pick the one who showed the least talent in the "this is why I am famous task...  well, ok, the page 3 girl was reeeeally bad.  But even worse was Verne Troy (aka Mini Me) who could not learn and recite 2 minutes worth of lines despite supposedly being an actor.  Not to mention La Toya Jackson who completely failed to squeak out a cover version of one of her brother's songs.  Good grief!  Frankly, the lot of them were a shambles.  At least the page 3 girl was not *expected* to have any talent. 

And dear god, the utter TEDIOUSNESS of the fat scouser called Lisa. No idea who she is, but the woman *never* shuts up about herself and what makes her "who she is" and how she's a dirty bitch with a "great fanny" (yes, really) and how everyone secretly wants to fuck her... yada yada yada.   I know its Sleb BB and all that, but until you watch it, you forget just how self-obsessed celebrities are.  It is TV gold in a way that ordinary BB will never be.  A popularity contest for people whose sole self worth hinges on being liked.  The beauty of slebs is that they are reliably needy, unhinged, insecure and removed from reality.  Put a load of them in a room together for 3 weeks and you really just have to press 'play' and watch the carnage unfold. It's probably a form of abuse...

Now, Come Dine With Me...

Given how cold it is outside, trying to teach myself how to knit the most complicated sock in the world while watching back-to-back re-runs of Come Dine With Me is hitting the spot rather nicely.   It's the bitchy voice-over that really makes this programme...    (for anyone who does not watch it, they take 4 or 5 strangers and get them to do dinner parties for each other all week, then they all score each other and whoever gets the highest score wins £1,000.  Ideally the people are cherry picked so that they won't get on, and there's a pleasing interlude where the guests rummage around the host's house, laughing at their lacy thongs and the like). 

But anyway, here's the thing I have noticed.  Most weeks, at least one of the hosts declares themselves to "like the good things in life" where "only the best will do".  These people, without fail, like to tell the cameras the cost of everything in their house and which label/shop they bought things from.  The most tragic ones insist on being seen buying their prawns from Harvey Nicks food hall or mentioning that their place mats used to belong to royalty.  The thing that always gets me is that it's just SO FUCKING DELUDED.  I want to take these people aside and say to them:

a) you clearly have no taste.  And by that, I don't mean bad taste... I mean no taste,  i.e. you have no idea what you actually like.  You think that as long as it is from the most expensive shop, it must be good.   Basically you have no originality and need someone else to tell you what you want.  It's a crying shame;

b) even if you believe in your heart that the only things your delicate sensibilities can handle are oysters and champagne with a Harrods label on them and curtains that cost £5,000, telling people where you got your things and what they cost is so unutterably naff that you might as well have a table centrepiece constructed from Aldi carrier bags. 

If you're going to base your self esteem on people thinking you have refined taste and manners, at least try to get it right.  Tsk.

So.  Ummm.   I think maybe I should go out today...