Playing to win

IF, like some of my friends, you thought I would be appearing on your screens in the Big Brother house last Friday night I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m still here.
It’s quite disconcerting to walk into a room and your nearest and dearest start laughing. Apparently, though, they had a wager on that I had secretly applied for the sixth series, after threatening to last summer.
And am I not so glad I failed to get that application in. I don’t think I would have lasted the first night!
Lesley is actually Little Britain’s Vicki Pollard in disguise; Science would get fed up of me saying “Eh?” after everything he says; and I’d be worried Mary would abduct and take me to whatever planet she’s due to visit next.
I think I could safely say I would be the quietest, most subdued person in there. In fact I would probably be the token boring one.
It’s strange to think of yourself being in the public domain like that. The housemates this year only seem to be interested in the benefits their notoriety will bring. And it seems the more obnoxious and unlikable you come across, the more you are loved and kept in by the viewing public.
It’ll only be a matter of time before like-minded individuals dish the dirt in our newspapers. And if it’s in the tabloids you know it must be true. I wonder what people would write about me!
Cast your mind back to the very beginning and you will remember Craig went onto the show to win money for charity, and for others it as a self-improvement and confidence building exercise. Now you are guaranteed your week or fifteen of fame. Some stay afloat, others sink into oblivion.
Talking of fame-seeking no hopers who should sink into oblivion quite literally, Celebrity Love Island springs to mind — someone please take their boats!
The only decent ones in the programme were Jayne Middlemiss and Lee Sharpe and now programme makers have taken them away to play ‘Cilla’ with their affections. It’s all going to end up in even more tears.
I have first hand experience of Paul Danan — somebody should take away his E numbers and keep him out of the sun for a while.
I have to admit I would love Callum Best’s babies, but let’s face it: our genes would surely mean the said babies would be alcoholics from birth.
And I can’t decide who I can’t stand more; Abi Titmuss or Rebecca Loos. I don’t think it’s purely coincidence that their surnames can be easily edited to become profanities, which best describe them.
The reason most of the contestants are famous is they’ve slept their way to success. Why do they feel the need to show us what they do best, on national television?!
I’ve got to say though I’m hooked. It’s like car crash TV — you have to watch it because it is so surreal.
It’s also educational — if you ever become famous you’ll know if you get offered the chance to go to Celebrity Love Island, exactly what kind of person the general public think you are.
My very own ‘reality’ show transmitting at the moment involves concocting a wedding outfit from my private collection, after a disaster last week.
I had a family function on the Saturday to which I ended up wearing the second option for a funeral from the day before. I was feeling fat, frumpy and miserable about myself, so black was definitely the colour.
It didn’t help that I developed a film this week to find pictures of my lovely Valentine’s bouquet from my lovely boyfriend.
But I have tried to be very good this week, eating better, thinking positively, walking more and trying not to lose the bet with my favourite ex that I’ll answer to Ronald McDonald’s temptations.
I think I’ve cracked it though. My outfit has come together beautifully and has reminded me why I buy things ‘just in case’.
I spoke too soon last week — nothing more has been said about our planned getaway. I’ve heard about last minute deals but this is getting ridiculous. I have been doing well on the ‘getting over him at last’ stage, and hardly flinched when he told me he was possibly becoming romantically linked with his first ever girlfriend again. Hardly!
I think I just need to get out onto that ‘field’ which I’m expected to play again. I’ve just been offered a night of ‘beautiful shoes and vodka’ so things are looking up.