Mailbag Special (Big Brother 8, posted Monday 25 June) by Grace Dent
Assorted wit and wisdom from the Radio Times Big Brother 8 mailbag:
Dear Grace,
Me and many others are getting very suspicious that the editing of Big Brother 8 is increasingly pro-Chiggy (Chanelle and Ziggy). Davina, Dermot and the guests on the spin-off shows seem to be being prompted to support the couple. Even though it’s obvious that their so-called relationship has no depth whatsoever! I believe Endemol and all the newspapers and magazines have got together in a huddle and decided that Chanelle and Ziggy are this year’s golden couple as they’ll generate the most money. I just don’t buy it… [rants on for another three paragraphs, getting really jolly irate]
Yours, SR
Whoa there, SR! It’s only day 27! It’s far too early to start the “biased editing conspiracy” ranting. Last summer I waited until at least day 84. Granted, then I went utterly mad and began accusing an elite band of shape-shifting aliens within Endemol of plotting to destroy St Aisleyne Horgan-Wallace. I’m much better now.
In all seriousness, I think the editors are focusing on Chiggy v Billi as the other alternatives are a little…meh. What else is there? Carole trekking about in her lumpy bathing suit, coughing up phlegm and examining her pant-beard? Nicky’s jagged little nihilist rants about life? Brian wrestling with a semi bonk-on in an orange caravan that smells of farts and ham sandwiches?
Liam performing magic tricks for the twins? Liam pulling pennies out of the twins’ ears while they squeak, “Nooooo! Nooooo! Was that penny really in my ear, lark? That were never in my ear!? Noooooo! Lark, lark, lark, I luv it! D’yer luv it, lark!?” FOR TWO WHOLE HOURS? Sigh.
OK, we know the whole Chiggy thing is built on sand. They’re doomed. No-one buys that they’re really in love. That’s why I find it so interesting to watch. Even the twins don’t really buy “Chiggy”, and they’re so dim they believe that the moon is actually a large button where a family of astronaut spoons live.
Apparently Ziggy’s ideal woman is older, snooty, athletic and feisty – ie not Chanelle, a feeble, northern teenager who sobs for two hours at the thought of sardine brine. To be honest, I wish Chanelle would slope off with Billi. She obviously thinks he’s ridiculously good-looking. Which he’s not, he’s like Gonzo from the Muppets let loose in River Island for men.
And poor Ziggy doesn’t need any more stress. In strong daylight his face is so craggy he reminds me of someone who might attach himself to your ankle at an ATM.
Anyhow, if Chanelle and Ziggy do stay together and become the “golden couple” and earn a few hundred grand, who really cares? We’ll all think they’re a pair of big, fat fakes anyway. Imagine what their child would look like? A cross between Davros and Su Pollard.
Hello, Grace!
I just want to say I really enjoyed watching you on Cirque de Celebrité and was so pleased when you won. It looked so hard and yet you did it with grace and stamina! I’m enjoying your Big Brother column so far and it is refreshing to hear an insider’s point of view!
MM
Thank you, MM! I was good on “Cirque”, wasn’t I? I didn’t think I’d be able to get my head right inside that lion’s mouth or master the grand trapeze, but I did! My fiancé Mikey had to do extra “raise the roof hands” that night, I’ll tell you! Except he didn’t, because that’s Grace Adams-Short and I’m Grace Dent, you complete wally. “Google” is just a noise you make occasionally, isn’t it?
Dear Grace,
What do you think of the caravan task?
CD
I love the caravan task. Well, I did love the caravan task. I spent two hours on Saturday night yelling at the E4 live feed, “The bloody table folds down! Fold the table down and make it into a proper bed!” Brian and Charley have clearly never known the joys of two weeks in a caravan in Prestatyn watching the rain and playing Hungry Hippos.
So anyway, I was enjoying the caravan task, when suddenly I had a terrible thought. Big Brother has put the only two black housemates in the caravan. Big Brother is being RACIALIST. And, hang on, what’s so funny about caravanning anyhow? My gran had a caravan! Do they realise the offence they’re causing to the Caravan Club and all its one million members by painting it as an amusing pastime? And what’s wrong with having knobbly knees? Why be prejudicial and stigmatise people with calcium deposits on their femoro-patella joints? Why must the disabled be cast out into the garden?
By 5:00am, with my fury bubbling over, I got on the internet and amassed an angry group of message-board activists, then I put in my first complaint to Ofcom.
Ofcom wasn’t open, but the night watchman gave me this statement: “Oh, God. Oh, no. Not you again. Grace, go to bed. Just go to bed.” I’ve got them running scared this time.
Grace, Seàny is gone now. He was the best character. Are you happy now???? DR
Yes. Very, very happy. I enjoyed seeing his little bewildered Garbage Pail Kid expression as his name was called out. I saw it as a victory for people who don’t like pranks. Or people who don’t want to be put in a queue at the end of a night, then grappled one by one in the name of “Seànylove” (chunders copiously into bin).
Saying that, maybe I got it wrong by laying into Seàny and being pro-Gerry. Gerry is pretty annoying too. Sometimes, Gerry, people just want to eat chickpeas. They don’t need a two-hour lecture about how the chickpeas remind you of René Descartes’s 1649 “Passions of the Soul” essay. They’re just chickpeas.
Grace,
I am one of the men who have emailed you previously and politely suggesting you lay off the twins. Can I please retract my previous email, on account of that utterly excruciating twinny song. It’s driving me mad. I’ve written a little verse of my own: Introduce yourself?
No way!!
Introduce yourself?
I wasn’t joining in, I actually meant it, b****r off.Yours, M
M, I know. I know. But I did feel a little sorry for Amanda when she did the shopping task last week. She tried so hard. Can you imagine how much willpower it took for Amanda NOT to rock backwards and forwards shrieking, “OK, I want pink food! Lark, pink food! Lark! Candyfloss! Raspberry Angel Delight! Blancmange! Taramasalata! Strawberry yoghurt! Do yer love it!?”
But she didn’t. She got mince and fish and fruit and fags and she tried to think of everyone and be kind. And what thanks did she get? Tracey bitching and kicking off about her ciggie supply! What would Tracey have bought with the cash, I wonder? Six litres of Scrumpy, two decks, a Whirl-y-Gig Global Grooves album on vinyl and a big sign that said DEAL WITH IT.
Oh, God, I’m starting to like the twins. Nurse, bring my special brain medicine. I’m having one of my turns.
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