Wednesday, 30 July 2008

Mama Mia!

Well I'm back in clammy Croydon having survived 2 weeks of searing heat, angry wasps, peanut butter poo and stifling transport, squashed up against hairy Europeans smelling of fags and pizza. It was like a home from home!

It was a fantasic holiday filled with new experiences. It's not everyone who can claim to have spent an afternoon on a nudist beach discussing DFS sofas with an old queen from Blackpool. What made this scene so memorable was the fact that he spent the whole conversation flapping his balls around in the sea breeze and I couldn't help but notice that his genitals bore a striking to resemblance to Father Christmas with a stinking cold.

As you might expect I had some typical mishaps during the fortnight. The most painful happened late in the first week. We'd had a lovely day on the beach and I'd spent a lot of time languishing in the shallows to cool down. I decided to leave early this day because I wanted to pick up shome shopping on the way back to the apartment. I'd pretty much dried off in the sun so just wandered back into town for a browse.

After about half an hour I started to feel a bit of chaffing between my legs. Damn I thought. My shorts must must have been a bit damp. Too late to do anything about it, I went about my business and as the pain got worse I started to walk like I'd shit my pants. The more I tried not to look like my nappy was full the more awkward my gait became and no matter what I did, the pain at the top of my thighs was getting worse and starting to make my eyes water.

I waddled slowly back to the apartment and eased into the bathroom to check out the damage. As I pulled down my swim shorts I discovered I'd been walking around town with a couple of pounds of wet gravel from the beach trapped in the pant lining of my shorts!

As if in slow motion and due to the excess weight, my shorts dropped to the floor and a substantial amount of Megali Amos beach scattered all over our lovely clean marble floor. We were still standing on stray bits of crunchy beach a week later. I went through a tube of Savlon over the next couple of days and spent most of the time in a sarong so as not to aggravate the red welts between my legs.

We were holidaying on Skiathos which is one of my favourite Greek islands. They filmed Mama Mia there last year and the movie was showing at the open air cinema there. We just had to go and see it. It was a magical night. Singing and dancing along to an ABBA movie under the stars probaby scores rather high on the Campometer. Ghostly sea birds soared overhead as we all got on the floor for the reprise of Dancing Queen at the end. One of mates got a bit carried away and knocked over our table, spilling a full glass of Ouzo over my brand new trainers. I've washed them 3 times since but there's still a whiff of aniseed under my bed.

I don't know if I've mentioned before but my HM seems to have developed a fetish for people with disabilities. Over the last couple of years we've seen him getting off with what could pass for the British Paralymic Squad. This strange obsession continued on holiday as we were introduced to his latest Greek flame. The holiday romance this year was with a deaf mute called George.

To be honest I didn't miss Big Brother while I was away but am right back into it again. So we lost Slimy Shaun and Bloater Becs during my excursion to The Med. No surprises there then.
This week we have most of the house up for eviction which is clearly some attempt by the producers to save the 'characters' of the house. I'm not sure it will work. Loathesome Luke is getting more like Spoilt Bastard from the Viz comic every week. I suspect his days are numbered.

I wonder how they're going to squeeze 9 friends and families into the BBLB studio on Friday. It'll be just like the Skiathos beach bus in there.

Belated postcard over. Normal service will be restored after the next eviction x

Thursday, 10 July 2008

Night of the Scatwoman

I’m totally fed up with Mario and his endless tales of his extensive work experience. That colourful CV is more fabricated than Lee McQueen off The Apprentice. When he claimed to have worked as a stunt double for Paul Burrell nobody thought to ask what stunts an ex-butler might be doing.

Mario must be the only man that can make working as a postman sound like The Bourne Conspiracy. He suggested his departure from the PO was very clandestine. Luke was hanging on every word as Mario winked and squinted behind his fake D&G shades. He looked shifty. Maybe he’s worried that MI5 are surveying the house.

The only job that doesn’t seem to appear on Mario’s list of achievements is Executive Chef. I reckon that’s why he’s jealous of Rex but what I want to know is - what the hell is one of them? Is it someone who cooks the books? Sorry ;-)

Dale was in a foul mood after his Jen got the old heave-ho. Scruffy Sara was doing her best to win him over but the surly Scouser was having none of it. When she complimented him on his looks and said he was very youthful he spat back ‘Thanks. That’s really insulting’. I think he was rejecting her friendship to show loyalty to the ex. Little does he know that Geordie Jen is now slagging him off in the tabloids after seeing his audition VT. I think that’s called Karma.

I’m always struggling to find something to write about redundant Rachel. She really is a useless housemate. Her shocking revelation this week was that she can eat lots of grapes. I wonder if that’s what swung it for her at her Big Brother audition. Hey! I can eat a whole jar of peanut butter whilst watching Big Brother’s Big Mouth. I might audition next year.

Belinda is getting a lot of stick this week. Despite the Scatwoman’s attempts to entertain and audition for Ronnie Scott’s she’s gone down like, and resembles, a lead balloon. Poor Scatwoman, Scatwoman, Scatwoman. Her snoring has caused another furore. This lot can bitch and argue at the best of times without adding sleep deprivation into the mix. Belinda has been bullied into moving between bedrooms each night to spread her nocturnal noises across the house more fairly. If I was in there I’d be asking for Luke and Bex to spread themselves a bit more thinly too.

The newbies have created the usual paranoia amongst the paranoid in the house. Rebecca is convinced Sara is fake because she wears the same foundation as her. I don’t think that’s true. Rebecca looks like she buys her makeup at Cash Converters.

Luke suspects the girls are BB agents because they’re immune from nominations. Has he not watched the show before? Mario P.I. is also suspicious and claims to have probed Sarah a few times. I wonder if Lisa knows?

Luke also thinks he’s being attacked by a poltergeist during the night. No Luke. That’s just burly Bex tossing in her sleep. I’m convinced that Rebecca is also to blame for the evil smells in the toilet. You watch. Every time someone talks about a stink she’s hovering in the background looking guilty. Is it just me or does Bex actually look like she smells of lager and chips.

In the shopping task dull Dale transformed into Mr Motivator. He took his role very seriously but was like Michael Flatley without the ability to flick an ankle. He produced a quivering mass of jiggling breasts, muscles and love handles. More Blubber Dance than River Dance.

Lisa is the clumsiest aerobics teacher I’ve ever seen. No sense of rhythm at all. She dances like The Incredible Hulk. Little wonder they failed miserably.

I’d like to say thanks for all your nice comments and feedback. I’m off on holiday for 2 weeks. I can feel the withdrawal symptoms kicking in already x

Saturday, 5 July 2008

Happy Happy Hirsute House

The housemates reacted very oddly to Sylvia’s departure. It seemed like they dealt with their upset by grooming. I noticed this strange behaviour when I caught Lisa shaving her moustache with a Bic whilst exfoliating Mario’s knees in the bath.

Dale started growing his facial hair but that was more about competing with the other ape for the affections of stringy Jen. Have you noticed that gorilla Stu has vey peculiar arms. Not sure exercise alone is responsible for those chunky chappies.

As if Big Brother was feeling this vibe he asked all the housemates to trim their bushes. I don’t think it was related to the task but at one point a boozed up Becs was running round the garden screaming ‘Look I got no bum hair’ Classy! Rebecca is why they built Magaluf. Her topless antics in the garden last week covered in yellow sun lotion just made me think – Custard Tart. The daft bint is really making herself look stupid. The housemates were aghast when she said she thought rapper Jay-Z was in the Backstreet Boys. The NHS must be worse that I thought if they’re employing people like Becs to look after patients.

The ‘blind leading the blind’ task was a cracker too, although that title really could apply to any task on Big Brother. After the task everyone was feeling in awe of Mikey after their own blind experience. In less than 20 minutes they were all bitching about him behind his back again.

The animal task was a hoot, with our very own Mean Girls getting their just desserts. Jen and Becs spent the 2 days in soggy, cold seal suits stinking like an early morning at Billingsgate fish market.

Mario must be getting really horny by now. He keeps winking at Lisa and coming out with juvenile innuendos about her sitting on his microphone. Lisa and her talking breasts are having none of it though and she’s even taken to wearing tights under her shorts as a sort of nylon chastity device.

Mario’s not the only one up to double entendre. During the Zoo task Luke kept making reference to Mikey’s elephant helmet.

We learned this week that Luke doesn’t like going topless because of his unattractive chest. Shame Rebecca doesn’t follow his example. I’m really not liking Luke and his camp shit stirring. He’s like Frank Sidebottom playing Charles Hawtrey in Carry on Dick...head.

After more annoying rule breaks, Becs was sent to jail and broke the mirror in the cell. I’m not surprised it broke having to look at her moon face for a 7 hour stretch. That’s 7 year’s bad luck and I reckon her luck will start to run out on Monday. There’ll be another spare fishy bed by next Friday. You mark my words.

Jen got booed out of the house wearing what she called a prom dress. Looked more like Julie Andrews had run it up using her Nan’s curtains. Talk about chucking out the chintz. Poor Dim Dale. How will he cope without his Geordie ironing board?

With Jen now heading to Heat magazine to talk triangles it was time for Davina to introduce us to the 3 brand spanking new housemates. Sara, the angular Aussie seems nice but then they always do. Antipodeans have a knack of endearing themselves to us naïve Pommes and then, before you know it, we have 12 of the buggers camping out in our lounge.

Next up we got a stunning but sour-faced Syrian. She might produce some morning tent action in the boy’s beds but I wouldn’t put money on her facilitating a Happy House at any time soon. May soon? I bet she has Kat in tears by Tuesday.

Belinda flew in on Boeing bingo wings, wearing a Halloween lantern. A bit madcap mum but then I thought Carole was like that last year on first impressions. How wrong can you be!

The 3 girls have caused quite a stir in the house. The only person who appeared unmoved by events was Dale. He was just stood around with that gormless mug on him as the girls settled in.

I am so hooked again this year.