The Show Has Turned Into Isaac and Noirin, Newlyweds.

HELLO!

Weeks – months, it feels like, or years, maybe, aeons, I don’t know – I did a report on each of the housemates. I’m going to revisit it and see how far they’ve come today, as there is NOTHING worth writing about in this episode apart from the Isaac shit, and we’ll get to that later.

Sophie: Back then Big Brother called her Dogface. Remember that? That was an idea that semi-stuck, eh, and wasn’t nearly as amusing as it should have been. She offered Marcus and Siavash a touch of her tits, and that was it, apparently. There’s not much else to say now: she hasn’t changed, apart from now having a pretty good shot at winning this thing.

Halfwit: Well, I described him as “an absolute gorming prick.” He isn’t, clearly, and I was judging him very harshly. He’s harmless, clearly, but utterly swayed by the people around him. Back then he claimed to be a “sexual maverick,” which might actually be true, given the seduction techniques that we’ve seen with him and Bea – and, by techniques, I mean those things he does that are wholly sleazy and inappropriate and have driven her to be disgusted by him even though she knows that he’s a meal ticket. I called him “my most hated housemate in a long while,” which is fascinating, because now I quite like him.

Siavash: Jesus, I got it wrong, eh? I didn’t much like Siavash either, as I thought he was trying too hard to be cool. I then went through a phase of liking him, but now I’m not so keen. This Noirin thing has destroyed him, made him weak and sad and pathetic. Back then he whimpered whilst sitting on the loo, and now he does exactly the same. The eight weeks in between where he was actually really cool? Nearly forgotten, sadly.

Rodrigo: Back then, all I could write about him was something about his goal in life being to meet the Queen. Now, I couldn’t write any more if I tried. OH ALRIGHT YES I COULD. He’s so fucking dull! I mean, really! I’m worried that he’ll win, I really am, but I can’t even say that he’s a really nice guy because he’s actually a whining, moaning little 70 year old woman thrown into the body of a teenaged Brazilian. (If a film ever gets made of that I want a cut of the profits.)

Marcus: Again, another one I got semi-wrong. “He’s still fun, but boy is he weird.” Well, he is weird, yeah, but fun? I couldn’t argue that any more. Had I written that he was mental, yeah, maybe that would have worked. He’s mental and weird and unpleasant. Back then, I thought I might have liked to be chums with him or something, but clearly that wouldn’t work as he would terrify me when we were drunk. He’d sit in the corner and stare and grin at the women and any men having interactions with them, and then he’d throw a glass or something and we’d all have to hold him back to stop him stabbing a bouncer with a bottle end, or maybe even just his fingers.

Charlie: “Nice, gay, northern… will almost definitely win.” TRUE AND TRUE, people, apart from that little blip where he was Lisa’s bezzie buddy and Kris fuckalong. He seems like a nice enough chap, he likes men, he’s from the north and he’s got a good chance of taking the prize. (And, by prize, I mean, of course, Freddie’s anus.)

Lisa: Oh shit did I get this wrong. “She’s actually quite a nice person,” I wrote. WOW. I mean, she took a while to show her true colours, but she is not a nice person. She’s a witch, but the sort of witch that you’d see in a ‘modern’ production of Macbeth. You know the sort; it’s set on a council estate in post-apocalyptic Swaziland or something, and all the men wear neon and the witches have shaven heads and reappropriated-swastika tattoos. She’s pure evil, but has learnt how to stay quiet again, which gives her the impression of niceness again. She’s a trickster, that one.

Noirin: Back then, I forgot that Noirin existed. Now, I couldn’t if I tried. She’s a cunt, really, an awful person, using men for her own whims, and I shan’t write about her any more.

Bea: Seems nice, is also a witch. We’ve got our three witches: now to built that Swaziland set.

David: Gormless.

Isaac: Yeah, Isaac. See, today’s ‘gift’ to the housemate is Isaac, Noirin’s ex-boyfriend. He turns up in a bike helmet doing a dreadful Scottish accent and delivering fish and chips, and then introduces himself. He seems – for a minute – likeable etc, and then corners Noirin in the bedroom and makes her apologise for something – presumably kissing somebody else when she was single, which is awful, obviously – and then makes her call him daddy. Seriously. It makes Siavash cry and mope and whine, and makes Bea pounce on him, and makes Freddie laugh nervously. He talks to Bea after Bea judges Noirin for moving on so quickly and a) gets Noirin to stay silent and b) makes Bea apologise for the errors of her ways. He weilds some sort of unholy control – Bea’s really quite powerful in the house, but this guy has come in waving his penis alpha-male status and just taken the place over. He’s awful and hateful, but I suspect won’t be here for long – I suspect that he’ll walk when Noirin is kicked out on friday, which she will be. So.