Ooooooooh, who is going to poison my televisual enjoyment for the next few weeks....
First on comes an irritating Julie Goodyear, AKA "Bet", in a blatant wig held on by a leopard ears headband, then the 11 chinned and aptly nicknamed "Fat Hev", who arrives looking like a high priestess from the Church of The Everlasting Pie.
|A panic stricken "Fat Hev" chasing an ice cream van.|
Next along, some annoying Yank bellend calling himself "The Situation". What an utter wanker of a man. He's got the boat of a dustbin man and he's wearing Ugg boots. The situation he's encountered is a sandwich between two of the most nauseating beasts ever to hit British television.
The ever shrieking hyper gay Brian Dowling, then presents one of his batty comrades, Julian Clary- who happens to be wearing what looks like a car crash between a camp acid hallucination and what an epileptic needs to see to start violently fitting.
Predictably, before the house turned into a morbid alchemy of beasts and gays, "Rhian", the token Barbie slut, arrives. She's apparently only famous due to the fact that a lanky showbiz fella from Bolton got caught sending her pictures of his cock. Naturally, she's as bright as coal and will provide us all with many valuable insights over the coming weeks.
|Better hide, Harvey.|
I'm genuinely praying for someone remotely interesting, or bitterly hated, to enter the house. Sadly, the show isn't called "Little Sister" so I doubt we'll see the latter criteria filled with the likes of Gary Glitter. I'm truly devastated Dog The Bounty Hunter isn't going in. I could see him accosting Harvey with the legendary advice "There ain't no ice in paradise, bradda". What a shame.
Housemate number 7? Samantha Brick. Who the fuck is she? She's been to "Maga-luff" apparently. What a coup to get her on the show. I'm sure she'll add a unique blend of fuckall to the house.
Next up: Prince! Sadly not the ribless, self fellating "Purple Rain" singer, but some sap called Prince Lorenzo. Sounds a lot like a pizza. I'm sure Fat Hev agrees and, with slobber dripping down her vast, gravy soaked cheeks, has already started planning her initial attack.
As the house fills with random idiots, the Albert Square reject and her Corrie counterpart are busy getting to grips with their secret task. The entirely innocent until proven guilty (legal aid) Harvey is lured into the glutton's close quarters as she feigns sadness on Big Brother's command. I'm genuinely concerned for his safety. Thankfully, the baying predator doesn't include Ackee & Salt Fish in her diet and skulks away to continue her pursuit of the pizza.
Time for another housemate- an executive brass called Danica. Looking very much like something to roll out of a Berlusconi "Bunga Bunga" party, she wastes no time in saying hello to her new housemates as "The Situation" furiously bashes one out, safely hidden in the shadow of Fat Hev.
The hungry housemates appear to have ordered a kebab. Oh no, it's not Mehmet from the Elstree branch of Kebabish Cottage, it's the next addition- a judo fella called Ashley with a head greasier than a KFC bin lid.
I'm seriously underwhelmed at this point. Seriously. Not that I was ever expecting a spectacular, unless they happen to throw in an armed and enraged Raul Moat or a totally wankered Gazza, I fear this might turn out to be a massive yawn fest.
Whoopti fucking woo. Here comes the former Bucket Clunge Grannies panelist, Coleen Nolan. Shane Ritchie got fed up with her and, coming from that irritating muppet, she's hardly the tonic we need to liven it up. I'm certainly not in the mood for dancing, that's for sure.
My head is hurting and it's not made any better by the next arrival, another gormless executive whore, the gaunt Jasmine. Swearing a few times to add credibility doesn't do it for me. I imagine that's who Fat Hev will use as a toothpick after finishing with the pizza.
FINALLY. Someone with some pedigree- Martin Kemp. A Gooner, singer of "Gold" and, arguably, the saviour of this programme. The house goes quiet in the presence of someone with more than a grain of personality.
|Impeccable taste in perms - and football teams.|
A relatively amusing end to the introduction of this years gallery of "celebrity" freaks. Let's hope for some half decent bloodshed in the next few weeks.