Gotta be honest, I hadn’t planned on watching Big Brother this year. I used to be a massive fan, but gave it a rest the past few years because I couldn’t abide watching a bunch of Playboy-chasing girls and deep-as-a-puddle guys prance around for a few weeks. And if I had to endure another ‘showmance’ (Chiggy, anyone?) I would break my telly. I watched the entrance, and planned on leaving it there.
This all changed when I got in one night and mum squealed at me, as soon as I walked through the door: “Amy! You MUST watch the repeat of tonight’s Big Brother - one of the girls said she’d POOED herself! It was soooo funny!” Of course this girl was Josie. And I must clear up that she didn’t actually poo herself, it was part of the Tree task where she had to collect the shoes.
So I watched that episode, and the other episodes I had missed so far, and ended up becoming more obsessed and involved in BB11 than ever before. For the first time ever I watched live feed. A lot. And by ‘a lot’ I mean pretty much 24/7. I have some very understanding friends and family (and a vitamin D deficiency).
I’m certain I won’t remember the names or faces of all 21 housemates who passed through the doors this time next year, but for me (and many others) there are three people who made Big Brother 11 memorable. Let’s start with…
Sammy Pepper
I wanted to ring his neck for the first couple of days, gotta be said. He seemed like a proper little shit and I was seething when he was saying nasty things about Josie.
But then… well, then he smoothed me RIGHT over.
Sam’s like a mischievous, lovable little kid that you know is being really naughty but is too damn charming for you to stay mad at. He’s absolutely brimming with life and fun, says what he likes and likes what he says - the perfect housemate. On more than one occasion I literally could not breathe for laughing at him; the ninja outfit, the water bombs, the lentils all over the living room, the song he sang to Josie, rocking under the washing stand mumbling “too much coffee” - all legendary. It’s now become one of my dreams to own a piece of original Sam Pepper origami. I dream BIG!
I am willing to sell my left kidney to get him in Ultimate BB. Just putting that out there. I’M NOT READY TO SAY BYE TO PEPPERPOT!
John James
Let’s just get one thing straight: it ain’t always easy being a John James fan. Whilst most of the time we can all see the sooooo handsome super lush guy that Josie loves, sometimes you can’t help but thinking he’d benefit from breathing into a brown paper bag and counting to ten. Perhaps listening to a whale song CD from time to time, too.
But, in all honesty, I couldn’t give a rip what anyone else says. Underneath it all Skippy is lovely, sensitive, sweet, with admirable morals, and he actually doesn’t get enough credit for how funny he is! He often said what needed to be said, and even when “getting angry now”, I still liked him - at least he was honest.
The moment when he changed into his football shirt when JJ entered the house… well, for that I’ll love him forever!
P.S. I quite enjoyed the showers too. Cooooor lovelaaaay etc etc.
Josie Diane Shirley Gibson-Parton... oh sorry, did I slip?!
The nation’s favourite South West sex pest. It’s hard to know where to begin.
I don’t know of one person who hasn’t fallen for the Josie charm. For starters she’s just effortlessly hilarious - I’ll be quoting her one liners for years (don’t worry about piddling your pants love, you’ve made me piss myself laughing more than once). She’s drop dead stunninglicious without having the foggiest idea. She doesn’t sit and pointlessly bad mouth people, because she’d much rather spend her time being positive. She was kind, loving and caring to everyone in the house. Josie is every girl’s ideal number one mucker: she follows the rules of sisterhood to a tee, unlike some of the housemates, not mentioning any names (starts with ‘Cao’ and ends in ‘bitch’). It’s almost indefinable, but there’s just a special Josie glow that draws people in, and is very hard to find.
We love her. That’s all there is to it.
But perhaps the thing that made this Big Brother so special was that, out of no-where, we were suddenly watching two people fall in love. The real stuff, not the ‘I’m ready for my close-up’ stuff. Although in many ways opposites, not least geographically, Triple J just… fit. They truly bring out the best in each other. The emotions they displayed were genuine and tender, and watching them slowly realise that their feelings for one other went beyond just friendship (or, so help me God, ‘brother and sister’ - give it a rest) was rather beautiful; it was quite a privilege for us viewers to be a part of it (if a little voyeuristic at times!). Even when they bickered, we all knew it wouldn’t be long before we witnessed Return of the Doona and we could all put the Prozac down. I really, really hope they hold onto that pure, unspoiled love for one another once they get back in the real world. It’s too hard to find and too good to risk for anything.
Another thing that made Big Brother a barrel of laughs this year: Twitter. As none of my Real Life friends are particularly crazy about BB, it was great to make a whole load of Twitter friends who are. It’s nice to see so many lovely people brought together over a mutual interest like this - typical Josie, she had us all making friends without even realising it. The witty banter between the #BB11 bunch was a lot of fun - so thank you, Twitter family! It’s funny, I’ve only had one bad experience on Twitter, and that was from a male John James hater who called me a “fucking idiotic bitch” for liking someone who was “so disrespectful to women”. The irony still makes me chuckle. ;-)
Tonight is the final of Big Brother 11, and the end of the show as we know it. I know with complete certainty that Josie will win, and I’m thrilled that such an amazing show is ending on a high note.
Pretty soon I’ll have to do all the things I’ve been putting off in the name of live feed. I’ll have to make a start on one of the 837 books I must read in preparation for my final year at Uni. My friends will start getting replies to their texts on the same day they sent them. Hell, my dog might even get a walk.
But for now I’m going to paint my nails lilac, pour a glass of Shloer, and watch BB11 go out with a bang. Am I lovin’ it? You better believe it kid.
Things my BB11 addiction has taught me:
1) It is possible to entertain a group of summer school kids aged 10-11 years old despite averaging on around 3 hours sleep per night. Although by 4pm home time you will want to kill yourself a little bit.
2) There are approximately 297 excuses not to leave the house when Big Brother is on. I have used all of them with vigour.
3) Never, EVER, call someone ‘crab eyes’. It WILL end in tears.
4) First impressions can be very, very wrong. (I owe you an apology Pepperpot).
5) I have very understanding friends. (They do think I’m a bit weird though).
6) Brizzle is, in fact, the shizzle.
7) Tree of Temptation is worth his weight in varnish. *swoons over the Tree*
8) Flash floods look well fun. I want one.
9) There’s a reason why mother warned me about men with monobrows.
10) I better hide the phone bill this month. 09011 323 008. Again and again and again and again and… *repeat to fade*.
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Tuesday 3 August 2010
My spirit guide is a unicorn, apparently…
On Saturday afternoon I went to a ‘Mind, Body and Spirit’ convention with Lauren and Lindsey. This automatically sounds infinitely more grand and mythical than in actually was.
On the walk up to the community centre where it was held (which has a large sign proudly proclaiming itself to be a ‘Library, Community Centre and Clinic’. Yes, all three rolled into one. You can return ‘War and Peace’, sign up to a pottery class, and get checked out for gonorrhoea in one fell swoop. Ideal.) there was a completely uninspiring handmade poster for the event with words like ‘Tombola!’, ‘Tarot!’ and ‘Refreshments!’ written on it in felt tip. Still, we continued in our upbeat pursuit of a psychic.
Psychics, mediums and the paranormal in general has fascinated me for a good few years. My interest was fuelled when I heard my mum talk about a really good psychic she went to soon after I was born; this woman had got everything spot on, leading to goosebump galore. Two of my cousins have been to see a medium after losing someone close to them, and both said all good things.
So when I saw a woman in her mid-twenties sat at a rickety table with a few faux gem stones and a chipped crystal ball scattered on it, I tried to remain positive. It was either her or ‘Tarot reading with John’, and Lindsey had quickly poached that hunk of burning love (Phil Mitchell a-like), so I was left with the Addams family pin cushion. This woman had the most facial piercings I had ever seen on a person in real life. Thick stainless steel hoops and spikes emerged from her eyebrows, lips, ears, and a devil’s tail wound from her nose. Her black eyebrows were drawn on so they came down her face in an unusually long manner, and she was wearing psychedelic flowery patterned leggings, a black netted corset dress, and huge black spiked boots.
She told me she had a ‘psychic gift’: I asked how much this gift was going to cost first - mamma didn’t raise no fool. She said it was a tenner; I could live with that.
She was actually quite sweet and softly spoken, despite her metallic outer crust. She asked if she could hold my hand between hers while she did the reading, and told me not to be afraid if she went into a meditative state because she was simply “tuning into my psychic field”. As you do. At this point I was really glad I’d left Lauren and Lindsey occupied with tarot-with-John.
The first thing she said to me was “You need to start studying more and stop watching so much telly.”
Oh my shit, she’s actually psychic! I thought. Anyone who is even vaguely aware of my existence will know that I’ve been obsessed with BB11 for the past couple of months. I would literally sit and watch live feed all day if I could get away with it. This, coupled with the fact I have approx 9782 books to read for my final year of Uni, led me to believe she was right on the money.
In hindsight, I should’ve just left then.
She continued:
“You’re about to start a college course…”
Well, I am at Uni. And I’m about to start a Welsh second language college course in September. I’d let her have it.
“…in fashion design.”
“Umm… no.”
“…hair and beauty?”
Christ, love. I had barely any make-up on and serious bed hair. I am definitely more Beauty School drop out. Welsh, you’re looking for WELSH!
She swiftly moved on.
“You’re after getting a pet…”
“I already have pets.”
“Have you got a guinea pig?”
“No…”
“But you like guinea pigs”
“Well, not really…”
“Because I can see a little ginger guinea pig. It’s really cute. Look out for one coming into your life…”
Seriously. She wasn’t telling me to look out for a chance encounter with Mr Right, but a ginger flaming guinea pig.
“…only, let it have a cage inside the house. It’ll die if you put it outside in the cold.”
It’s August.
But as long as the guinea pig is alright, happy days.
“You’re really excited about something, aren’t you? A holiday…”
Yes, YES! I’m going to New York! Pleeeeeeease say New York!
“… a beach holiday.”
Oh fuck.
“I can see a jelly fish.”
“Actually, I’m going on a winter holiday. It will be snowy.”
“Well, snow equals water, and jelly fish live in water.”
Oh, yeah, of course. Tamato, tomato.
At this point she got a bit of psychic interference (oo-er). Someone was trying to ‘get through’ to me. Amazeballs! Michael Jackson? Princess Di? Shakespeare? Let’s chat! She titled her head and said in a soft voice:
“Do you know anyone who’s passed on to the other side called Sophie?”
“No. I don’t know a Sophie.”
“Oh… well a young girl then?”
“No. Sorry.”
I actually apologised. For her own shitness. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for her. She was dying on her arse, like a woodlouse that’s gone over on its back and can’t get up again, no matter how much it wiggles its legs.
“It’s ok, they do that sometimes… lots of people trying to get through at once, you see…”
Bless.
“Ok here we go… I’ve got a tall man, white hair, bald patch, walks with a stick, smokes a pipe, died age 73. Your granddad!”
Ahh. My granddad. With his bald patch; yes, and a stick; yes, aged seventy-something; yes, and… oh. The small matter that HE’S STILL ALIVE!!
This is probably completely awful of me, but I found myself just going along with it.
“Ahh yes, that’s him. That’s Brian.”
Should I cry? I wondered.
“Did you have eggs for breakfast?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“No. I can’t remember the last time I ate an egg.”
“Well that’s the problem, then. He’s telling me you’re not getting enough protein, so he’s giving you the gift of egg and soldiers.”
To be fair, I thought it was jolly nice of this spirit man who didn’t know me from Adam to be concerned about my egg intake, so I accepted the breakfast.
“You need to drink more milk too.”
“I don’t like milk.”
“How about milkshake?”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll like that either, what with it being milk based…”
“You’re not getting enough vitamins and minerals! Maybe take a supplement.”
At this point I was convinced she was working for Holland and Barrett’s.
After that she said a few general things like "you have a lot of love surrounding you, and you have a lot of love in your heart". Well, she wasn't going to tell me I'm a coldhearted cow who was being followed by the grim reaper, was she? She said she can see the colour green around me, which signals education - maybe I can put this in my personal statement when I'm applying for my PGCE. And she also said my spirit guide is a unicorn, that follows me around giving me hope and making sure I'm safe. I like that.
But turns out my psychic didn’t have a ‘gift’ afterall. She was just an average girl, like me, guessing and stumbling and hoping for the best. And, like me, she doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen in the future. I suppose we’ll just have to live it to find out.
On the walk up to the community centre where it was held (which has a large sign proudly proclaiming itself to be a ‘Library, Community Centre and Clinic’. Yes, all three rolled into one. You can return ‘War and Peace’, sign up to a pottery class, and get checked out for gonorrhoea in one fell swoop. Ideal.) there was a completely uninspiring handmade poster for the event with words like ‘Tombola!’, ‘Tarot!’ and ‘Refreshments!’ written on it in felt tip. Still, we continued in our upbeat pursuit of a psychic.
Psychics, mediums and the paranormal in general has fascinated me for a good few years. My interest was fuelled when I heard my mum talk about a really good psychic she went to soon after I was born; this woman had got everything spot on, leading to goosebump galore. Two of my cousins have been to see a medium after losing someone close to them, and both said all good things.
So when I saw a woman in her mid-twenties sat at a rickety table with a few faux gem stones and a chipped crystal ball scattered on it, I tried to remain positive. It was either her or ‘Tarot reading with John’, and Lindsey had quickly poached that hunk of burning love (Phil Mitchell a-like), so I was left with the Addams family pin cushion. This woman had the most facial piercings I had ever seen on a person in real life. Thick stainless steel hoops and spikes emerged from her eyebrows, lips, ears, and a devil’s tail wound from her nose. Her black eyebrows were drawn on so they came down her face in an unusually long manner, and she was wearing psychedelic flowery patterned leggings, a black netted corset dress, and huge black spiked boots.
She told me she had a ‘psychic gift’: I asked how much this gift was going to cost first - mamma didn’t raise no fool. She said it was a tenner; I could live with that.
She was actually quite sweet and softly spoken, despite her metallic outer crust. She asked if she could hold my hand between hers while she did the reading, and told me not to be afraid if she went into a meditative state because she was simply “tuning into my psychic field”. As you do. At this point I was really glad I’d left Lauren and Lindsey occupied with tarot-with-John.
The first thing she said to me was “You need to start studying more and stop watching so much telly.”
Oh my shit, she’s actually psychic! I thought. Anyone who is even vaguely aware of my existence will know that I’ve been obsessed with BB11 for the past couple of months. I would literally sit and watch live feed all day if I could get away with it. This, coupled with the fact I have approx 9782 books to read for my final year of Uni, led me to believe she was right on the money.
In hindsight, I should’ve just left then.
She continued:
“You’re about to start a college course…”
Well, I am at Uni. And I’m about to start a Welsh second language college course in September. I’d let her have it.
“…in fashion design.”
“Umm… no.”
“…hair and beauty?”
Christ, love. I had barely any make-up on and serious bed hair. I am definitely more Beauty School drop out. Welsh, you’re looking for WELSH!
She swiftly moved on.
“You’re after getting a pet…”
“I already have pets.”
“Have you got a guinea pig?”
“No…”
“But you like guinea pigs”
“Well, not really…”
“Because I can see a little ginger guinea pig. It’s really cute. Look out for one coming into your life…”
Seriously. She wasn’t telling me to look out for a chance encounter with Mr Right, but a ginger flaming guinea pig.
“…only, let it have a cage inside the house. It’ll die if you put it outside in the cold.”
It’s August.
But as long as the guinea pig is alright, happy days.
“You’re really excited about something, aren’t you? A holiday…”
Yes, YES! I’m going to New York! Pleeeeeeease say New York!
“… a beach holiday.”
Oh fuck.
“I can see a jelly fish.”
“Actually, I’m going on a winter holiday. It will be snowy.”
“Well, snow equals water, and jelly fish live in water.”
Oh, yeah, of course. Tamato, tomato.
At this point she got a bit of psychic interference (oo-er). Someone was trying to ‘get through’ to me. Amazeballs! Michael Jackson? Princess Di? Shakespeare? Let’s chat! She titled her head and said in a soft voice:
“Do you know anyone who’s passed on to the other side called Sophie?”
“No. I don’t know a Sophie.”
“Oh… well a young girl then?”
“No. Sorry.”
I actually apologised. For her own shitness. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for her. She was dying on her arse, like a woodlouse that’s gone over on its back and can’t get up again, no matter how much it wiggles its legs.
“It’s ok, they do that sometimes… lots of people trying to get through at once, you see…”
Bless.
“Ok here we go… I’ve got a tall man, white hair, bald patch, walks with a stick, smokes a pipe, died age 73. Your granddad!”
Ahh. My granddad. With his bald patch; yes, and a stick; yes, aged seventy-something; yes, and… oh. The small matter that HE’S STILL ALIVE!!
This is probably completely awful of me, but I found myself just going along with it.
“Ahh yes, that’s him. That’s Brian.”
Should I cry? I wondered.
“Did you have eggs for breakfast?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“No. I can’t remember the last time I ate an egg.”
“Well that’s the problem, then. He’s telling me you’re not getting enough protein, so he’s giving you the gift of egg and soldiers.”
To be fair, I thought it was jolly nice of this spirit man who didn’t know me from Adam to be concerned about my egg intake, so I accepted the breakfast.
“You need to drink more milk too.”
“I don’t like milk.”
“How about milkshake?”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll like that either, what with it being milk based…”
“You’re not getting enough vitamins and minerals! Maybe take a supplement.”
At this point I was convinced she was working for Holland and Barrett’s.
After that she said a few general things like "you have a lot of love surrounding you, and you have a lot of love in your heart". Well, she wasn't going to tell me I'm a coldhearted cow who was being followed by the grim reaper, was she? She said she can see the colour green around me, which signals education - maybe I can put this in my personal statement when I'm applying for my PGCE. And she also said my spirit guide is a unicorn, that follows me around giving me hope and making sure I'm safe. I like that.
But turns out my psychic didn’t have a ‘gift’ afterall. She was just an average girl, like me, guessing and stumbling and hoping for the best. And, like me, she doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen in the future. I suppose we’ll just have to live it to find out.
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