One cast one’s mind back
to when this season all started and recalled when the celebrities (‘celebrities’ being used in its broadest
sense, of course) entered the infamous reality house for their period of
televisual incarceration. The customary insistence when such programmes are
created - and the dreaded word ‘celebrity’ is used - to pluck any old duffer, that
has had so much as one column inch in a tawdry periodical, out of the ether had
certainly been maintained .
Prince Lozenge Bolognese –
a rather fragrant and delicious poppet - being the perfect example of this
ongoing practice. Apparently, from what one has heard, he has appeared on our television
screens before! One is sure he has … and how very nice for him. However, Chu
Me’s former love interest, Tess Tickle, has also appeared on television (a local news report, where she was seen
buying a nit comb from the village chemist, Annelise Stules-Hoffen, in a rather
unflattering pair of dungarees, tan brogues and gingham) but make a celebrity
of her it most certainly does not!
Enticed further, one was
horrified at one stage of the inaugural extravaganza when one sat open-mouthed
- a crystal clear meandering of gin flowing down one’s chin as a result of the
dropping of one’s jaw - and dripping upon one’s exposed bosom, “Jimmy
Saville?!! In a leopard skin print??!! Good Lord! One thought he was dead … and
wore nylon?!”
It was then that one’s
faithful houseboy, Chu Me, informed one it was actually Coronation Street
Other celebrities – worthy
of the title – were introduced one by one; the lovely Coleen Nolan, the
delicious Martin Kemp, the glamorous Julian Clary, the adorably delicious Cheryl they’ve-killed-‘Ev Fergison … and the
rather tottylicious TeamGB Ashley McKenzie who, after the performance of the British
team at this year’s Olympics, is not a mere celebrity but a Judotastic star!
Then, as one feared, it
all started going down hill.
A young, handsome poppet
called Mike Sorrentino, who had opted to refer to himself as The Shituation, or
some such fancy. An abdominal expanse you could bounce a conker off but all the
personality and appeal of overcooked pasta.
A rather odd looking
poppet, called Jasmine Lennard, who if the Daily Mail is ever to believed is 27
(however, her face, bony lallies and the
overall appearance of a lanky streak of piss in designer frockage, suggested a
typo had occurred and those two digits were, in fact, destined to be reversed).
Jasmine is apparently a lover of both the man-biscuit and lady-garden and she has
even dated Simon Cowell (which has certainly
drained the life from her, poor thing). She also has a son to American
musician Seth Shift y’binz. (however, if
Seth put his bins out after 9pm , then I
for one would wholly support him in leaving them where they were until they’d
been emptied!)
An attempt at glamour was
made with the introduction of Danica, who as one understands it is an ‘international
lingerie model’ (Essentially meaning she
flashes her knickers to the world).
Danica (which sounds more like the brand name for a
range of kitchen units) clomped enthusiastically into the house, as did
another model, Rhian no-relation-to-Percy
Sugden. Rhian has been a page three girl and has flashed her baps over many a
glossy, such as Zoo … indeed, many Nuts have been grabbed (in more ways than one, one suspects) by
young heterosexual males wishing to finger through the pages until they come
upon her picture, in the privacy of their bedrooms.
Finally, Samantha Brick (who, coincidentally, from what one has
observed, has the complexion of a breeze block). Samantha was the
journalist who claimed her life was difficult because she was so beautiful.
Having seen the amount of spottage on her facial epidermis, her crooked mouth
and gammy eye, one fears her case is rapidly being lost in the law courts of
aesthetic appeal. Many gentlemen who have come upon her in bars, restaurants
and even the streets of our bustling metropolis have whipped out their wallets
and insisted on paying for her, simply because she is earth-shatteringly
gorgeous. If any of those men have been watching Celebrity Big Brother, there
is sure to be a line longer than any Marks & Spencer returns queue, with all
of them having an eager desire to have their money refunded, without so much as
a quibble.
All in all, the show was
reasonably entertaining and if viewers didn’t know that Julie no-I’m-not-Jimmy-Saville-in-a-leopard-skin-print
Goodyear was a national icon, famous
for being the landlady of the Rovers Return for 25 years, 70 and disabled, then
they certainly do now … the woman never shut up about it!
One also understands from
newspaper reports that, since the show has ended, Danica Knicker-flasher
Thrall has had blazing rows with her boyfriend but, thankfully, the model, who
apparently has made her name taking money and gifts from rich men, is receiving
consolation from multi-millionaire hotty Prince Lozenge Bolognese. One suspects
the words ‘ching’ and ‘ker’ have been involved, though not necessarily in that
order.
Anyhoo … one was rather
delighted to see that the very elegant Julian Clary was victorious. Though one
was quite surprised Martin Kempt didn’t win, one was chuffed as punch Julian
came first. Bravo dear!
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