Yeah so it’s back.
Having given up watching the show religiously after series three, I still traditionally always watch the first night of each series. This round of the Celebrity version was no different.
It’s nice to know the production company - Endemol - have abandoned all pretense of caring about the well-being of their housemates for this year. Davina using the random facts about housemates to make sly little digs being the major clue that this time round they’re more than happy to fuel the circus of hate that builds up around certain housemates.
And that’s before mention of the horrific baying-for-blood crowd that - amongst other delights - will boo any woman who’s done so much as hurt a fly in her past, while cheering men who are basically downright awful examples of human beings.
(Examples? While I don’t claim she’s the model of human loveliness, the hate aimed Grace’s way last summer was horrible to observe. Compare her to a couple of far worse male equivalents: the practically celebrated horseman John McCririck and that dreadful Ahmed from series five)
Urgh. The public are so rubbish sometimes.
To change tack slightly, people seem to be jumping on that Towers-of-London rock-star chap though, Donny Tourette. Faking the rock-star excesses, or something.
Let me tell you, I reckon he’s the real deal. I say that because near the start of last year, I was serving them at Rescue Rooms after they had supported All-American Rejects at Rock City. An hour into such fun I had to stop the four of them having piggy back wars in the centre of the bar, because they were inadvertently kicking customers in the process.
Yeah, so I think he’s for real. Play nice please, British public.
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