It only took the words ‘lesbian nun’ and I was hooked. 7 summer’s later and I’m breaking out in a sweat in anticipation of the launch of Big Brother 8. From the minute the first housemate steps out of the limo and waves nervously at the baying crowd, my summer of love (and hate) begins.
The build up has already started and I find myself roaming fan sites and forums on the off-chance of a launch night leak or a sneaky peak at the new house. Seeking out silhouettes of prospective housemates and dodgy aerial shots of building work at Elstree has already become an obsession. My tabloid quota has trebled and Heat magazine is compulsory reading on my way to work.
The cries of ‘Oh I’m not watching it this year’ are already ringing around the office but by the end of week two I bet we’ll be taking sides and analysing personality disorders in pubs across the land for the next 11 weeks. Sure as hell beats pondering over Tony Blair’s legacy!
The genius of Big Brother lies in the casting. Even the strange blip that was BB4 had its share of heroes and villains. A human zoo with designer furniture and copious amounts of alcohol is a magical combination.
I started fretting about BB earlier than usual. I’ve spent a few sleepless nights worrying about red buttons, multi-coloured eyes and hoping the Virgin Media adverts don't have annoying characters with shit catchphrases. The Carphone Warehouse flies were a particular low point.
Big Brother will be taking over our lives very soon. We’ll love and loathe the housemates and argue about their nocturnal habits. The Eviction crowd will boo everyone and usually for no good reason. Oh and Dermot will wear shorts at least once on BBLB.
What will Davina’s opening line be?
Will Dermot have ditched the Action Man haircut?
Who on earth can fill the skinny black hole left by randy Russell?
I’m getting palpitations as I’m writing this but that may be due to the Chilli Beef wrap I had for lunch.
