I’ve Even Apologised To You For A Completely Involuntary Expression.

Charlie has a shit-fit about people touching his things after discovering that Freddie has moved his towel. It’s irritating, as Freddie was about to explain which two cities are close to where he lives, which is fascinating. Charlie then tells the rest of the housemates to not touch anything that’s around his bed. Charlie is really unhappy about this. Is he OCD or something? Probably not – that would actually suggest that he had something interesting or of substance about him. In reality, I think he’s just a mopey fucker. Also, Siavash is offering to wee on Bea’s leg because she’s got a bite on it. He’s a filthy fucker, I reckon; next he’ll be suggesting that coprophilia cures cancer, probably.

Anyway, for today’s grossly entertaining task, four of the housemates get to make themselves dizzy and then run around like pricks to put blocks into holes for tokens. Doesn’t that sound amazing? Imagine! Dizzy people! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! David is so dizzy he can’t actually stay standing, and collapses on the floor, but the other housemates are alright. Task over! Wow. That was BAFTA-worthy TV, that was.

Now David has made some Spaghetti Bolognese. Marcus talks about how much salt he ate as a child – one teaspoon in an egg, 6 eggs a day or some bullshit like that – and then talks about how his stomach acid can dissolve bricks. Then – we’re at the evening already, which tells you something about how interesting the day has been – David tries to tell everybody about how women have better orgasms than men. Not when they’re having sex with me they don’t, Dave. No, wait. Hang on.Anyway, he then talks about a woman who has lots of orgasms without sex, and then Charlie creeps up behind him and goes Boo and David has a prolapse. In the diary room, Siavash and Bea discuss how fake they find David, how forced, whatever. She then goes out into the garden and talks to Siavash and Freddie about the David/Lisa gameplans, and it errs hatefully close to discussing nominations, only in an ambiguous way.

But hang on! Sophie has found a packet of cigarettes under Marcus’ bed, and the house accuse him of hoarding them given that he’s a non-smoker. He argues that he was saving them to give them out as a gift another day as if they were rations. Lisa and David then discuss hiding lemonade from Marcus to see how he likes it. Freddie and Bea are discussing happiness or some shit, and how she was shocked about the cigarettes, and Marcus thinks they’re talking about him, so tells them off. Bea gets defensive and looks utterly broken. I think she’s beginning to lose it, or at least is pretending that she’s losing it for sympathy or something. Marcus says that he’s disappointed in Freddie for giving him eyes or something, and Freddie confronts him in the kitchen, and blames vibes on Sophie or something, and then Charlie – calling him Frederick – tells him off for trying to blame Sophie. It’s the worst argument that I have ever seen/heard/been informed about/imagined/contemplated/pictured. It’s a bunch of people without a case arguing about stupid things that mean nothing. Charlie then tells everyone that he thinks that Freddie has the biggest gameplan in the house, and Freddie gets arrogantly huffy and laughs about how he keeps getting evicted. (Realistically, is this Charlie’s gameplan? To get Freddie nommed to see if he’s still popular? Because he can smell competition? Who can say.) Like all arguments in Big Brother, this just reduces itself to people shouting about scheming and plotting and gameplans, a fine jus created from the roasting meats of different personalities. In the garden, to get some attention, Bea cries because she is upset that she heard something shocking. Her words. Ugh. Can’t blame her, though. She saw something shocking – a packet of fags – and it made her cry. You should see her in a newsagents; walking up to the counter is like crossing the Styx.

Then, brilliantly, Sophie gets upset and thinks that people hate her, and then asks to be put up for noms. I’m hanging myself, she says, and then Geordie Marcus tells us that there’ll be consequences for the entire house. The housemates finally stop talking about it at half past three in the morning, and go to bed, which is insane. And I’m warning you now – I’ve been reading what happens over the 24 hours following this, and it sounds like nothing but a stream of conversations about these arguments. You may want to skip Monday night’s TV show. Or, you know, the rest of the series. 6 of one, half a dozen of the other, right?