Be Good, Our Dad Won’t Like It.

I’m sick. I’m here at BB Towers, sitting on my sofa having just eaten a bowl of frosties and I’m shivering. I feel very weak, I really do, and yet, as I sit here and watch Big Brother I realise that I’m glad I’m not as weak as any of these idiots. I could write about the irony that takes places as Bea criticises Noirin for hugging Siavash when she doesn’t intend any relationship developments, or how David is a big lunk that makes no sense – NO SENSE – in his reasons for his noms. But it’s the real idiots I want to write about today.

I mean, Marcus, for example. You can see his affections blurring across from Noirin to Bea, and Bea steals them. She’s actually a little stirrer, eh? Mixing the pot of things. I think – I think – that she’s angling to get Noirin nominated/evicted, which is interesting. Maybe she sees a gap in the Alpha Female market now that Lisa’s drizzled into the background, and Noirin is her only competition? Anyway, Marcus has let himself be caught up in this silly little game, and let himself be played. He’s going to watch this back afterwards and – as well as hating himself when he sees how he’s been – hate the ways that people have used him to further their own standing in the house. He’s a cock of epic proportions, yes, but he’s also become a scapegoat, which is fascinating.

Or what about Siavash? Upon hearing that Noirin doesn’t want any relationship with him, it takes him three and half minutes to back down from his plan to not speak to her, and end up under the covers having a kiss and cuddle. She’s playing him, and he’s letting himself be played. It’s sad.(Oh, also, Marcus and Noirin are nommed this week. I predict… Actually, I have no idea. One of them will leave. Marcus might escape when he hears that he’s nommed, actually. That would be a very Marcus thing to do.)

Or Freddie, oh, Freddie. I mean, don’t get me wrong, this could help him win, but he’s clearly in love with Bea, and she clearly wants nothing to do with him, romantically. You can actually see her getting annoyed with him as well, turning slightly. I’m sure that she’s using him. Actually, as I write this, I’m realising how little I like or trust her now. Hmmm. Freddie and Bea lie in bed and discuss Freddie’s “funny way of saying things” when he talks about how he likes “training lovers.” “I’d love to trade notes with you sometimes,” he says, and then lies back and sighs, wistfully. Seriously, more than anyone else I have ever heard in real life, he is FULL of wist. He’s nuts over her, and I think he’s just worked out that she really doesn’t like him in that way, and can see her slipping away. In the bedroom, then, Bea whines about Freddie, talks about how “sleazy” he is. “Where I’m spiritual, Freddie’s just really fucking randy,” she says. In the diary room he discusses how he would put Bea over his shoulder and drag her into the bedroom or something. It’s nearly creepy. Please, Freddie; don’t go too creepy. Please.

David. I will talk about him. When he’s out, and wears Vivienne Westwood clothes, he feels happy. It’s the closest he gets to religion. He would cry if he met her. He paid for her autograph on the internet. Words cannot fucking express.

Oh, I just don’t care. I’m tired and I’m ill and I’m well past this whiny, whingy shit. It’s like watch a load of 16 or 17 year old children having hormonal outbursts, only without any genuine sexual tension and just a load of wankers wandering around being fuckholes. Here at BB Towers we discussed what they could do to save this series, and we don’t think there’s anything. Honestly, it might be for the best if it goes away next year, and when its people like us saying that, big fans of the show, you know there’s probably a real issue. I’m ill, and I can’t be bothered watching Freddie making a tit of himself any more today. Ugh.