The Four Horsemen Of Endemol

With the early onset of spring, when a young man’s mind fills with joy and hope, a false sense of security surrounded us all. Long, carefree afternoons have been idly passed, sipping cocktails and leafing through novels. Evenings have been spent with friends, watching the sun both set and rise again. All indicative characteristics of summertime. Except it was all too peaceful, it was seeming to go all to smoothly, when, yesterday, I heard the news. No sooner had I heard the words, than my heart sank and my mind wandered to a place darker than on a five am in mid November when you decided that it would be a good idea to sit up all night on your own drinking whiskey and watching Mike Leigh films.

Big Brother is once again gearing up to reinstate it’s media omnipresence, regardless of who will be watching it, it’s a sure thing that in some way, most of us will be talking about it. Be it of some scenester who’s borderline musical knowledge will be overshadowed by their outlandish fashion which, in their absence from the outside world will become the new look for the 80% of people who seem to primarily tailor themselves from the produce of Topshop or some other form of complete turnip. It would seem that we all like a good laugh at those who make us feel superior and as we aren’t allowed to go to the asylum’s to have a laugh like we did in Victorian times, so the good people at Endemol and Channel 4 get them to voluntarily put themselves up for public ridicule and humiliation, shrouded thinly in the promise of a fame that, in this late stage of the programme’s history, has proved to be destroying of both livelihood and character. Sorry, that is the point of the show, isn’t it? I hopefully haven’t made some horrendous misinterpretation of it have I?

I guess that I felt like treading this well familiar route as, it will be a personal experience, as always for me, albeit partially against my will. I have a routine which seems to follow the course of the show like clockwork each year. I will make a failed attempt to watch the initial run. The advent of two dozen or so squealing teenagers and random eccentric older people, mewling, fawning and strutting whilst marking their territory and staking their position amongst the rest of the group, always proves a little much for my sensitive soul to bear.

For the next few weeks, an indifferent, casual observation will come through the talk of others, the fact that it will be on every newspaper, news and entertainment website and the radio, leaving little choice but to renew that initial viewing to at least put a face to the name and (more than likely) scandalous implications that have begun to unravel. We have no real political news for the summer as politicians take their holidays to sit on the beach and then build sand castles which they them SMASH with their gout ridden feet. This will be our current affairs.

We may get to see: Boobs! This is a concurrent theme in the Big Brother house, usually, three to four sets of breasts are put into the house, then rated on regular exposure, the amount of edited shots and general undertaking of the whole “Experience*” Then one pair is evicted to pursue a career as a model for Nuts magazine. The second is soon sent to join her in a double cover shoot with accompanying pieces for Loaded and News Of The World. The final sets of breasts will remain for either the cattiness of their owners, or their essential role in the chosen course of the show.

Violence: A rarer occurrence, but that’s why the show get them to undergo stressful, team orientated situations together, then ply them with booze! It’s like the world’s worst staff night out. Thus, fights are regularity, mostly in the form of slanging matches; physical offenses are less common but can happen.

Racism: The last few seasons of Big Brother provided us with some of the most gratuitous racism debates this side of Kramer and Dog The Bounty Hunter. Everyone seemed to get so excited at the prospect of more racism that it took focus away from the boobs for a few weeks. Nuts forgave the racist boobs though and gave them another covershoot.

Rumpage: Yes, the primary reason that this show exists. It’s one of the last televisual taboo’s. The creators tapped into the minds of the masses and came up with it thusly. “We need a show, were people, just might, get to see two people shagging. On telly. That’s it.”

In lieu of actual frotting, there will always be someone who decides that it’s a good idea to partake in a spot of onanism, in a crowded room whilst everyone else is asleep. Apart from everyone watching it on telly of course.

So, let the familiar circus begin. I can’t say that I’ll be following, or even commenting on this again, but I will be made aware, I am sure as we all will, of it’s presence and more importantly, what we all think of the people involved. This year in the house, I am hoping for:

1 : A Ketamine-fuelled Dubstep fan just off a three day happy fun time weekend. With no drugs or music. Although that would just be like the old lady who liked like Sean Bean from a few years back.

2 : An embittered internet writer who feels he is far superior to all of this, cast amongst those whom he deplores, with no way to notate his aggravation or vent in any way! That’ll learn him.

3: Running Man type tasks, where limbs and lives are lost. Or a full blown lynching. Oh, hang on, that’s what “They” want me to want isn’t it. Damnit.

4 : For the house to go bad. Like Hal in 2001.

5 : Not to hear that bastard commentator again. Ever.

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