First published 4th January 2007 on

I had to interrupt a detailed reading of Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason” * to bring you this latest instalment from the house of FUN (Fucked up nonentities?), so I hope you’re all appreciating this…

(*a lie. I actually just finished Tracey Emin’s autobiography – it took me 20 minutes – perhaps longer than the writing process).

The highlights show of course mainly focused on Donny, perhaps in an attempt to convince the audience of the inherent evil of drinking and acting like an unconvincingly belligerent twat. Big Brother don’t like people breaking their rules and even less their microphones (by jumping fully clothed into a hot tub – surely one of the crappest “bad boy” stunts ever witnessed on telly – I doubt Johnny Knoxville will be on the phone any time soon).  The popular appeal of Donny is that he is reminiscent of every pissed up kid that’s tried to latch onto you in a pub, talking bullshit with a vague aroma of menace. We love the fact that that kid is locked into a house with 10 precious celebrities desperately trying to appear polite, rather than putting us off our pool shots at the Fanny and Firkin.

The truth is of course that once Donny has been sober for a day or two, the GBP will tire of him and vote him off, whereupon in an effort to be interesting and “street” again he will drink an entire bathful of absinthe and end up living in an airing cupboard in The Priory until his mum comes to take him home to Buckinghamshire.

At least Donny acts as a sort of conduit via which the veneer of niceties gripping the house is ruptured and some closely guarded aspects of the other housemates’ personalities can be glimpsed – so Danielle is revealed as the girl who always ran to teacher with tales because she had no imagination and nothing of interest to say for herself. Jo is an expert manipulator who plays up her fears of an incapacitated middle class boy as a rapey sex pest in order to try and gazzumph lovely Ken’s bed (she eventually gets the bed of the scarily eager to please Leo). Leo comes across like a cowardly little “crowd pleaser” who at first sticks up for Donny, but quickly changes his tune when group opinion becomes obvious. IanTWFS is a bit of a sly pisstaker but at present seems too narcissistic to become overly involved in anybody else’s story. Ken is tolerant to a point – having seen it all before (I wish Davina and Russell Brand wouldn’t patronise Ken – he worked on the same set as Oliver Reed and Keith Moon for fuck sake – he knows Donny is an amateur).  Carol ignores Donny when he says “hello” causing him to do one of those delightful “Well fuck YOU” faces and flounces that I mastered at 15. Shilpa magically manages to be in a different place from him at any given time – without it appearing personal – although her beautiful face looks slightly strained when his name is mentioned. Jermaine is momentarily distracted from hovering around looking mortified as though he is the hero of “A child called IT”, and seems to derive a crumb of entertainment by letting Donny start on some semi-coherent rant – and then turning his back and fucking off (presumably to check his suitcase contains enough Jackson patented surgical masks to protect him from Ken’s snoring and Donny’s omnipresent phlegm). Go Jermaine! Just go..

Down to the two most apparently polite and socially skilled members of the group:

Face is bemused. In Face world people don’t stagger round demanding lights and Christmas songs (they do in mine-sigh). Donny slurs “You’re Dirk fucking Benedict” to which he sharply responds “Yes – well I don’t use my middle name much” (and I give a little cheer for the Faceman), but in truth Face appears to be drifting apart from all the group except maybe Shilpa, and I think his and Jermaine’s aloofness can be put down to a simple continental fact. It’s a Yank thing. The yanks don’t understand us Brits with our bad teeth and smelliness and social spasticity. All US citizens have their bodily odours removed at birth with a special sterilised pipette, and unlike the psycho in “Perfume” they think it’s a good thing. They look upon us benignly but sadly, patting our unkempt manes and proffering sugarlumps as to wayward horses that they think need shooting.  Polite and witty as they are, I just don’t think the Americans like us Brits. I mean we don’t like ourselves that much so why should they. I digress – but this simple fact may rob the Faceman of his rightful crown.

Instead the person emerging from the Donny situation as charming, bright, classy and adorably bonkers is the wonderful goddess that is Cleo Rocas. From handling all her introductions practically and politely, to trying to ensure that no-one was left on their own, to putting Donny’s soaked jeans through the mangle and fending off his clumsy snog-lurches with the skill and dexterity of a woman who’s had a lifetime of fending off advances from boys (lucky bitch!).

Talking of social skills, I adored people’s polite expressions of feigned interest when Danielle (TeddyTotty? Given they’ve only been together 10 months and she’s talking about him constantly – if Teddy’s like any of the men I know this won’t be lasting much longer) defined herself in another way apart from the obvious age-old manner of self-identification “My name’s X and I’m shagging Y”. This happened when people politely enquired “What the fuck are you?” (OK that’s a lie) “Are you an actress or a singer?” she would brightly pipe up “I’m a model” (in a manner reminiscent of Avaline out of irritating Carla Lane shitscousefest Bread), to which they would nod and go “oooh!” (Translated as “for fuck SAKE”). When she said the same to Ken his reply was a wonderful example of how to dig yourself out of a hole when you’re talking to somebody too dim to spot you’ve nearly insulted them:

Avaline: “I’m a model”

Ken “Oh just a…..[BEAT] fantastic model!”

Avaline (giggling): “Ohh thank you!”

My favourite Avaline quote of today was when she was explaining to Jo that she didn’t know who anyone was. “Well I’m like you know, oblivious to everything”.
Oblivious is quite a big word – could Teddy have taught her that?

Another scary moment occurred yesterday when Avaline stated that she was tired and Leo told her that drawing fake eyes onto her eye-lids would be a crazy and wacky thing to do. As he hugged himself in self-congratulation for his zaniness I recalled the famous photos of Tom Stephen the Myspace not-Ripper and wondered what he would look like wearing a scouse-style fright-wig. I shall be keeping an eye on Leo’s relationship to custard in the coming days (I could imagine him doing an “I’m fucking dis custard” style prank with scary, shortarse gusto).

Something very odd happens later in the night as Ken, Cleo and Donny sit outside for a cosy, intelligent, often in-depth and INTERESTING chat about film. I actually learn a few things from Big Brother. Anyone who’s here for the trash and the insults can leave now – as I’m afraid some of this conversation nearly had this ex film studies student tweeping for JOY! It actually reminded me of Channel 4’s 80’s semi-intellectual piss-up for insomniacs “After Dark” and I drank two cannies and sat there sagely nodding.

Ken gave detailed synopses of most of his films (including “The Devils” and one I haven’t seen about a woman whos fake breasts have blood sucking nipples – wow!), discussed his favourite actors (Oliver Reed and Glenda Jackson – he reckoned Dame Glenda was “wasted in politics”). Revealed that the film script to “Whore” was given to him by a stalky taxi driver and that he also had an obsessed Ukrainian fan called “Animal”. Outlined his interest in filming a movie using mobile phones. He recommended several films I hadn’t seen yet, but am going to check out following his description “The Door in the Floor“, “Frozen“, “Lemming“. He then reveals his voodoo side by claiming that the three critics who most slagged him off are now dead – so let that be a warning! He does mad eyes to emphasise this point. Ken is warming up to be even better at winding people up than David Gest (how do I know these people argggh!). He states that the first horror film he saw was 1934’s The Secret of the Loch (which I now must see!) and the same year he had his first “experience of sexuality” in the cinema when a scoutmaster touched his 7 year old willy whilst Pinnochio’s nose was growing (disturbingly he sort of normalises this and seems to have been more scared by the chicken monster in the loch ness film).

Cleo seemed to have a pretty good knowledge of Ken’s films and some of his interests – including his love of Dorothy Lamour (who inspired Ken to misguidedly join the Navy in order to track her to a South Sea Island loveshack). She went on to help Ken describe the Marx brothers’ films to Donny. She related decent gossip from an interview she conducted with Nick Cage

Donny seemed relatively sober and thoughtful and talked about Meditteraneo, one of my favourite foreign language feel-good films about Italian soldiers on a Greek Island starring the incredibly sexy Vana Barba.

The Donny love increased when he named his favourite film as “The Big Lebowski” (which Ken and Cleo liked – as well as “Raising Arizona”). Come on! He must be alright. He also mentioned “Irreversible” (which Ken hadn’t seen) and said it was too fucked up for him. (Oh come on last night he was licking sick off his socks – now he’s the sensitive art film type – that’s poor Donny’s dangerous profile well and truly rimmed).

They definitely won’t be showing on tonight’s highlights show then (or maybe just a second to show how “boring” they are. Don’t talk about films or politics. Talk about Cleo’s shoes and Jo’s cute little puppies. I could just imagine the teenie texters turning off E4 in disgust last night. Ha!

My favourite BB fact of the day is that Jermaine Jackson has a child called “Jermajesty”.