I was grinning from ear to ear as a 7 foot security guard led us down the housemate walkway towards the VIP paddock. The place was a lot smaller than I expected but the atmosphere was electric. My heart was beating so fast I thought my vibrating mobile alert was going off.
After a quick warm up we were introduced to the divine Davina. She looked stunning. Like Emma Peel going speed dating. She played with the crowd and even persuaded a rather cute and crumpled Dermot to take a bow before the cameras started rolling.
First up were two matching twizzle sticks who giggled their way into the house and then promptly fell in the bath.
An old dear in stretch pants and pumps swept by. She looked like she was there to audit the books and had taken the wrong turning.
Another girl was next. Charley was like Sinitta on a tight budget. The poor girl didn‘t quite live up to her video and she got a bit of a roasting from the crowd.
By the time Tracey arrived it was clear we were going to have a house full of estrogen.
The crowd was ecstatic. Tracey looked like what you might get if Sir Jimmy Savile exploded in a Flea Market. I shook her hand. Can you believe I’ve been touched by the hand of a 37 year old cleaner from Cambridge.
The smiley Welsh girl appeared to have come dressed as a Liquorice Allsort for some reason. I think she had the same stylist as Shab who was wide-eyed with leggings.
We also got a Posh Spice wannabe and a wannabe posh bird. There was one with a fringe who was a bit fed up and hated men. She’d obviously come to the right house.
They saved the best until last. Carole the activist exploded from her limo wearing some curtains from a Blackpool B&B. The crowd loved her and she loved her moment. It was a magical experience for her and us.
It may have been like watching the hen party from hell but I loved every clucking moment.
Bring on the boys
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