I write for Beamly, where I have just started a weekly column. I will republish it here. This is my weekly take on events in television. James Arthur fans and television purists should stop reading now.
I’ve been following this latest series of Big Brother with enthusiasm, mainly because it’s my job. But also because I feel like I might as well watch this stuff while I have the chance. There’s no way that Darwinism is going to permit people like this to survive for long.
It’s no secret that I hate Helen but just in case you needed confirmation: I bloody hate Helen. Although Helen, if you’re reading this, having Googled yourself in a fit of self-hatred after leaving the house (which I really, really hope you did empty-handed, with a scowl across that fake face, and maybe slightly more self-awareness than you’re demonstrating at the moment) um, I like you. I’m also terrified of you. Please don’t hit me.
Seriously, what is wrong with the woman? I can understand that she’s had a hard life, and she’ll find no judgment from me with regards the career and partnership decisions she’s made. But she’s so LOUD. She’s so RUDE. She’s so… repetitive and dull and awful. And while I, too, can talk about sex until the cows come home when I’ve been at the bottle, it doesn’t take a Mother Teresa-type character to understand that tempering your conversation to your company is just plain polite. The pope and I have never discussed bedroom techniques and I sincerely hope we never do.
Speaking of bedroom antics – and when I think of a bedroom, I think of a private space with a locked door and not a cavernous room filled with 12 other people – how about the antics of Kimberly and Steven? Goodness me. I know what to expect from Big Brother, and that includes rancid language, nudity, displays of utter idiocy AND penetration, but I thought I knew what to expect from Steverly, and I was wrong. Asked the question 5 days ago, I would have stated, hand on heart, that Kimberly is using Steve as a distraction while she wiles away the empty days thinking about her life as a Playboy Bunny, and will ditch him like a Hefner-castoff the minute she is freed.
Colour me surprised, then, when Big Brother got its sexy denouement in the form of Steve wrist deep in the object of his affections on national television. “Open it”. Excuse me while I retch emptily onto my keyboard.
And now, apparently, the barriers are down. Despite proclaiming intense embarrassment for reaching second base in full view of one million viewers, they then proceeded to go the whole hog the following night while Helen, in the one moment I have viewed any actual humour from her, peered up from the side of the bed with such avid interest that she cracked her teeth on the bed frame.
My takeaway points from this?
1. “Open it” would make a great tramp stamp; and 2. The anticipation for, and actualisation of, sex on Big Brother is one of the only things that can keep me truly interested in the goings on of the compound.
We might be outright disgusted by the pumping motions beneath the covers but let’s just admit it – we’re interested. I’m interested. Go for gold, Steve my son.
So bring on the sex, I say. Helen, competitive witch that she is, is surely contemplating mounting Ash while he smooths his hair back and mentally debates the pros and cons of stubble. Winston, who still seems to think he’s out on the lash in Essex and has stumbled into a particularly exclusive themed nightclub, has designs on the breasts and hair of Danielle. There’s potential all over the show. And even if no further couples manage to consummate, I suspect we can rely on Kimven to keep up the good work. In for a penny, in for at least a few more poundings.
Wanna hear more of what I have to say? Follow me on Beamly, as well as following Beamly Exclusives, for more TV insights and overt crudeness, every Friday. And please comment below with any of your own thoughts. I’ll read them, promise.