From what nadir of human misery have the celebrities crawled from to suffer the indignity of the TV equivalent of Russian Roulette?
1. Preston. Member of a rather nifty rock/ska group called The Ordinary Boys.
Our favourite even though his little body appears to have been scrunched up so much that it gives the impression of having just been unfolded after being liberated from the confines of a small suitcase just about to be tossed into the Thames by a voodoo priestess.
2. Michael Barrymore. Catchphrase is “Top, Middle, Bottom” – a reference to his game show-hosting days rather than any of the scandals that have blighted his life
Seems to have arrived from the gnashing, voracious jaws of the tabloid media who have always used the tragic death of Stuart Lubbock, whatever Barrymore’s role or non-role in the aftermath, as a conduit through which to channel their bigotry and virulent hatred over his homosexuality. This week, the Daily Mail reemploy the repellent Richard Littlejohn, which instantly disqualifies any stance of moral judgement they may care to cast on anything from the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs to Posh Spice’s weight, and next week they may as well try to resurrect Josef Goebbels as a balancing aid to liberal temperance.
3. Rula Lenska. Used to be married to Dennis Waterman. Has possibly done others things in her life.
Straight out of the grave. You see, we got this adorable 70s ginger-haired icon mixed up with another adorable 70s ginger-haired icon in Marti Caine and thought that she had died. But after carefully checking her for worms munching on her putrefying flesh, we were convinced that she really isn’t dead. Although in two weeks her career might be.
4. Chantelle. Essex bimbo who doesn’t know what a gynaecologist is.
Has clambered out of the seething mass of anonymity, but you can be sure that in the distant hinterlands of popular culture, out beyond the marshes inhabited by dyslexic bullfrogs and sexist sticklebacks, someone is concocting a plan for her to release I Want It Right Now as a single under the name Kandi Floss. She has been smuggled in as a satirical statement on the ephemeral nature of modern celebrity; a ruse that might have carried some weight, had the parent BB not been culpable in disseminating the original infection with the gusto of an amoral chicken spreading its flu.
5. Pete Burns. Singer with Dead Or Alive whose single You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) was one of the ultimate 80s tracks.
A refugee from a special edition of 10 Years Younger in which the Machiavellian Nicky Hambleton-Jones uses gross-out 80s horror movie Hellraiser for her inspiration and attaches innumerable chains affixed with fishhooks to Pete’s body and pulls them in different directions at the same time.
6. Maggot. Member of something called Goldie Lookin’ Chain
Looks like he’s been cut from the rough trunk of a rotten log.
7. Faria Alam. Shagged some old men. Lost a case of unfair dismissal.
She’s been plucked from that bit at the back of your mind where you put stuff you never think you’ll use again. Go to the very depths of your mind. You’re there? Good, now carefully run your cerebral fingers to the traumatic memories of when you crapped yourself at playschool or the moment when the girl/boy/animal you were sure fancied you turned to you quizzically and said, “Who are you?” with such derision and scorn they may as well have pulled out a knife and plunged it deep into your heart. Found them? Great, feel under them, unbolt the thick mental plating and peer inside – see it’s Faria Alam!
8. Traci Bingham. Was in something called Baywatch.
An émigré from Playboy Land, ruled, like Tellytubby Land, by a sun with smiling face, only this sun has the face of a 75-year-old man leering lecherously at the clouds below, which are formed from plastic cosmetically-‘enhanced’ models who are floated by their inflated chests. Meanwhile below, men, some with the minds of beasts, others lower down the evolutionary scale with the minds of stockbrokers and bankers who attend lap dancing clubs religiously after work on Fridays, make doomed human Towers of Babel in an effort to reach the clouds.
9. Dennis Rodman. Played basketball, shagged women, wore drag, got pierced.
He’s come straight from a gymnasium which is so frosted with testosterone, the chemical forms into boorish, simple menfolk who are snapped up to act as bouncers at boxing weigh-ins to give some intellectual gravitas to the participating pugilists.
10. George Galloway. Self-serving “Stop The War” MP
He has emerged from Saddam Hussein’s pocket, through the toxic mists of VX gas, the choking fumes of burning oil drums, the whiplash lies of the Telegraph all the while cloaked only by a sticky web of his own vanity, which he spins from the endless threads pumping furiously from his bulbous abdomen.
11. Jodie Marsh. Doesn’t think she should be sharing a house with Faria Alam who she accuses of having no real talent and therefore not meriting celebrity status. Pot – kettle – black.
She’s on temporary release from an asylum for the criminally inane. What next after this? A true endurance test of the fame wannabes, Celebrity Chemotherapy hosted by Mark Dolan?
How did our correspondent in the audience view the proceedings of the final?
Jodie Marsh. Oh, isn’t she just adorable? OK, I hated her while she was in there, but since she’s come out I’m loving her more and more. She’s upped the style so much, and this was easy to spot when she walked on to the stage with her classy Italian-style wave. And what’s more, she’s probably the first person ever to have been bullied at school, so that definitely justifies her behaviour. Marry me, Jodie! Marry me!
Faria Alam. Just as she came out, the man next to me whispered, “God, I hate her!” “Why?” I asked, even though I half-agreed with him. “I don’t know. I just do,” he replied. He’s right, and I completely hate her now, too.
Rula Lenska. Oh my God, aren’t old people ugly when you put them next to young people? She shouldn’t really have been allowed to go on CBB; nobody knows who she is and we certainly don’t care now.
George Galloway. I really, really hate this man. I want to take a sledge hammer and smash it into his ugly, bald head. For the two minutes he took to waddle like an ugly duckling along the catwalk, I could think of nothing but hate, hate, hate. And neither could the people around me. A girl near to me was spitting so much she lost a tooth, which she then picked up and threw at Galloway as he walked by. She missed, but I imagined it sticking into his eye.
Dennis Rodman. Dennis is an awesome guy. His tattoos make him look so ice cool you could dip him in volcano to chill it out. Davina was too much of a coward to speak to him. She was afraid he would swear before 9pm.
Traci Bingham. Sorry, I went to the toilet as soon as I heard her name called out. She’s not much of a person, though is she? My friends told me that during her interview she smiled lots and basically said she respected Pete. What a pushover!
Pete Burns. He started out alright, but soon he just became a bully. All of his put-downs were probably written before he even got into the house and he just looked for the right person to say them to. I booed him as he deserved it for what he did to Traci, who has my utmost sympathy.
Preston. I hope he signs all my Ordinary Boys’ CDs and becomes a proper celebrity by marrying Chantelle. It doesn’t matter if the couple fade from the public eye, as they can fabricate marriage problems every six months and sell their stories to Take A Break, OK! and the rest.
Maggot. Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot! Maggot!
Michael Barrymore. I regard him as being as bad as a murderer for the fact he won’t say what happened that night at his home. He hasn’t even tried to sell his side of the story to a tabloid newspaper – and that makes me have no respect for him whatsoever. And I lost even more respect when I saw him hugging the celebrities as they left, more out of relief that he wasn’t booted out than to commiserate with them.
Chantelle. Even though Paris Hilton is so 2004, I’m loving this gal’s sassiness so much. She’s dippy, fun to be around, and so gorgeous. I’m popping down Currys today to buy a DVD recorder as I want to record all the TV interviews she’s bound to give. Think what they’ll be worth in ten years’ time! Think of the money I’ll make on ebay! Oh, and don’t think you can copy my idea as I’m copyrighting it here and now, just as I’ve nabbed the domain names chantellehoughton.com and chantellehoughton.co.uk.
Sponsored by Failure – the exclusive aroma you can’t shake off no matter how many spreads in Nuts you do, or how many times you welcome OK! into your home for a meagre half-page feature, or how many times you ‘bare your soul’ to Take A Break, or how many times the offensive Chris Evans disgorges in his equally offensive patois “You am de best!” on OFI Sunday, or how many times you smile winsomely on Des & Mel, shuddering each time Des mentions CBB rather than your distinguished past as another nail is driven into the coffin of your career.
1. (Last time: 6) Maggot. A shambling, but lovable, wreck of a man, if trees ever evolve to have emotions they’ll look like him. Once he’s out of there, hopefully as the winner, he’ll get a job as the Ribald Rapper of Newport and lead all the sheep-like shellsuit-wearing teenagers away from the city centre and into the dark void of oblivion. And then he’ll claim his fee from the rats of Newport who employed him to remove the teeming vermin from their streets.
2. (5) Pete Burns. A man with a tongue so sharp the guilt-ridden ghosts of the French Revolution are jealously eyeing it, and wondering why they couldn’t have used it to guillotine aristocrats with more efficiency. Dresses like a bombsite, mind.
3. (3) Rula Lenska. Increasingly isolated from the rest of the housemates, she is rapidly becoming a neglected, rickety old door creaking and banging shut in the wind of George Galloway’s arrogant bluster when she wants attention.
4. (1) Preston. After a promising start his credibility has been so tainted and polluted through his association with Jodie and Chantelle it could be bottled and fed to flu-infected birds to give them a mercifully quick death.
5. (4) Chantelle. Sent by the collective consciousness of the goldfish to give humans an understanding of the difficulties of a six second memory, for as soon as she waddles off the stage after Davina’s sycophancy that’s the length of time she’ll be remembered for.
6. (2) Michael Barrymore. Crying far too much and once he’s taken the long walk to a court appearance organised by a bigoted tabloid newspaper, he can become a counsellor to clouds too emotionally repressed to unburden their watery loads in front of millions of people in the cities and who instead shed their rain on lonely hamlets.
7. (9) Dennis Rodman. A man whose career has all substance of an atheist’s faith in God. He now realises he is on the same platform of fame as a gimmicky nobody in Chantelle, and is beginning to nervously look downwards lest he fall to the fathoms below where ex-members of Upside Down and One True Voice and Kat from EastEnders’ ex-partner thrash like crocodiles in a pit.
8. (8) Traci Bingham. She is so utterly tiresome, her personality could be laid down in front of the raging Australian forest fires to quell them and sap them of their fiery strength as they vainly try to burn through her asbestos-strength inanity, ultimately extinguishing them and forcing them to go back to bed.
9. (7) Faria Alam. Her fame will be so brief it could be easily slotted into the leap second that is inserted into the time line every four years. Once she is booted out she could metamorphose, like a publicity-craving caterpillar, into one of those bubbles you see on garage forecourts, where the frothy water from the carwash mixes with some oily residue, which have swirling iridescent patterns on the surface, but nothing of consequence or note inside.
10. (10) George Galloway. Just as Michael Jackson popularised the inversion of the word ‘bad’ to mean ‘good’, so George has now inverted the meaning of the word ‘gorgeous’ to ‘scum-sucking pustule’. However on the plus side, he has the gratitude of the NHS for making smoking cigars as ‘cool’ as grave-robbery. And the bristles of his moustache droop like drooling tongues from the decapitated heads of quislings that once adorned the Tower of London.
And we’ve lost Jodie to the vagaries of the vote. It’s sad, but now she has the world as her oyster. She can travel to the four corners of the globe astounding everyone she meets with her versatile artistic talents. Of course, she’s now banned from spreading her wings further a-field, beyond the boundaries of the Earth, as pockets of vacuum from across the entire cosmos have complained to Channel 4 that she’s stolen their act.