What with all the football from Brazil, and catching up on all those box sets of Breaking Bad, and watching Andy Murray trying to win Wimbledon again (even though he’s done it now and no-one really cares this time around), I just don’t see when I’m going to find time to watch Big Brother 2014.
Expectations have never been lower than they are for the England football team in the World Cup this summer, but I don’t think they could possibly be any lower than my own rock-bottom expectations for this new series of the Channel 5 reality show.
We begin with the desperate sight of beautiful, blue-eyed Emma Willis getting down on her hands and knees and repeatedly begging us to “download the Big Brother app.” In that way we will feel all fuzzy and Web.2.0 and will properly engage with the programme in a compelling and, like, challenging way.
I am immediately confused. The former prostitute called Helen who shagged Wayne Rooney has surely done enough with her miserable life to be considered a celebrity and honored with a gold ticket straight into the Celebrity Big Brother house, as opposed to having to drag her fake tits through the civilian version of the show for fifteen weeks.
Apart from Helen there appear to be ten contestants in the house. Or perhaps they’re going to take one contestant out of the house really quickly and unexpectedly and put another six contestants into the house. Or will they leave just six contestants in the house and take out twelve and put in Lionel Blair. Who knows? Literally, who knows?
Quick role call: A dance teacher who once sang with Kylie Minogu, a Playboy bunny with a law degree called Kimberley and some bloke called Mark who already seems to have won £5,000 for doing absolutely nothing at all except for having a beard.
Within 5 minutes a person called Matthew is cruelly isolated from the group and put into a sort of David Blaine glass cage suspended above the garden. I have absolutely no idea why. Since I haven’t had enough time to get to know him, I frankly don’t care. Maybe if I’d downloaded the app like Emma said I would have engaged with him more quickly and would give a damn whether he lives or dies.
There’s someone called Tamara Double-Barreled Name who’s probably never washed up and will take off her clothes and jump into the swimming pool at the first opportunity she gets. There’s a chap called Christopher whose never had a relationship with anyone and probably never will.
There’s Mark. “Hi, I’m Mark and I will be your homosexual this year.”
All of these people are exactly 24 years old except for a woman called Pauline Bennett who is 49 years old and a mother from Wolverhampton. I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before. The only other name I remember is Winston Showan, but I can’t think of anything to say about him. Pass me the Pringles and hand me the remote control, there’s something about UFO’s on H2.