Big Brother: Grumpy Old Men

Oh my God, this is turning out to be the biggest car crash ever, and of course is therefore completely irresistible. The biggest story of the first week was Jodie Marsh vs the Triumvirate of Evil. The fact that those bitter old bastards actually made me feel sorry for humourless thin-skinned freakface Jodie is surely a testament to their utter hatefulness.

Barrymore in particular turned into a hectoring psychopath who felt outraged and disrespected when Jodie wouldn’t follow his advice – well, actually I would not wish to accept advice from someone who lied to his wife re gayness for 18 years, was in rehab 8 times, held a party where some bloke was suspiciously bummed to death and is now a mumbling, slurring, emotional wreck. In a similar vein I do not often accept advice from the mad shouty scary man on the number 29 bus. Funny that. Even worse, Barrymore’s method of arguing was to shout at someone and then shout that they were being unreasonable and weren’t listening when they dared answer back.

That unctuous tosspot Galloway set himself up as Barrymore’s snivelling sidekick and said hilarious things like “There is a 55 year old man who is crying the garden because of you!” and blamed Jodie for thwarting Barrymore’s triumphant come back. What a delusionoid.

My second favourite event was George Galloway’s creepy sex cat game with Rula Lenska – I spent the whole episode watching between cracks in my fingers and howling with laughter/physical pain. Galloway will surely never live this down so at least some good will come of the fact that I am traumatised for life by those images.

Pete Burns is some sort of Bizzaro World version of Jodie Marsh and it is funny that most of the comments he made about her applied equally to himself. Currently going mental due to lack of cigarettes. Good.

The other housemates have rather faded into the background: Rodman is still a Neanderthal sex pest. Traci is still unnaturally perky and easy going. Maggot turns out to be completely dull without his posse of simpering halfwit bandmates. Preston and Chantelle are being a bit flirty. Chantelle seems nice but v thick and Preston’s band name is sounding incredibly apt. Faria is either boring or whiny and Rula is mumsy and strangely unreadable. Who knows who will go next, but the Triumvirate has already started bitching about “the Americans”…