Mentioning Big Brother has reminded me that the dreaded wannabe fest is coming back on our screens shortly (and naturally Davina McCall is pregnant – AGAIN! Davina, you're lovely but stop trying to repopulate Hampstead or wherever you live).
Now I have a confession, I actually love watching Big Brother, I find it totally addictive and in 2001 (when I spent the summer in a slough of despond on my sofa having just been made redundant) it was the perfect house companion. Having said that I generally can't stand the people who are on it and spend the first few weeks just trying to work out who is who because they are all so loud and ridiculous. Also there are way too many of them in the house, it must be unhygenic and can you imagine the bedroom aroma? Bleurgh.
However, I am at pains to point out that I hate Celebrity Big Brother or indeed any 'Celebrity' based programme (Jungle one with Ant and Dec, Come Dancing, Ice Dancing Stars in their Eyes special…la la la). More than half of these celebrities are not celebs at all, and the ones that were should stay a dim and pleasant memory rather than trying to reignite their sorrowful careers at the licence payers' expense.
But no matter how much I try to resist the urge, the lure of the Big Daddy of reality TV will suck me in and 10pm for the next goodness knows how many weeks will see me glued to my TV. And as for getting me out on a Friday night – not bloody likely mate!