I’m A Celebrity (Reviewer) Get Me Out of Here: Day 11
It was eviction night last night! What with all the excitement of Brian stating the obvious on a continuous loop, I’d actually completely forgotten that contestants get voted off periodically. Its all very exciting, even for me, because its essentially a countdown until the bloody thing ends. My friends were complaining last week that I have nothing of interest to say, unless it’s about ‘I’m a Celebrity’. I took it on the chin. Probably because they were right. I keep having dreams about Joe rescuing me from pirates, those dreams make it all worthwhile. The ‘Aha, me hearties!’ kind of pirate, not the organised kind which holds ships hostage with machine guns, and gets defeated by Steven Seagal, who’s also a chef.
I realised yesterday that I have been a fool. Timmy has a master plan. A plan to mastermind a cult of deviants, who will take over the camp, one by one, until they get to Joe and use him to breed as the emodiment of human perfection. Oh no hang on, thats the plot of ‘The Fifth Element’ I’m thinking of. The plot of The Fifth Element if you read between the lines, and you’ve had alot to drink. David joined ranks with Timmy yesterday, and became one one the camps numerous sexual predators. So far, the cult consists of Timmy, David, and Esther. The risk is multiplying! Timmy employed a number of manipulative tactics in order to recruit David to his side, namely, he kept coming on to him.
David was voted to do the task thing. By the end, he was so brainwashed by Timmy’s sexual propaganda, that it became clearly evident who was pulling his neurological strings. He said: “The trial was horrendous, I stink. I’ve got things crawling up my trousers and biting my willy, but you know what, I feel really good”. Each to their own, I suppose. Joe said of Dave in the diary room: ‘If you smell his armpits, they STINK’. Do I really have to spell it out? Don’t smell them, Joe. You won’t win anything if you do, and if you get too close to his pheromones, you’ll risk catching his personality disorder.
David said of the jungle: ‘I wouldn’t miss this experience for the world’. Really? No, seriously though, really? I dunno, maybe you had to be there. Or maybe its just the Joe’s bizarre sexual magnetism which makes it all worthwhile. What? It does for me! Anyway, Timmy’s recruitment drive began in an isolated spot when he and David were having a quiet word. David, getting ready for the task, said: ‘I’m gonna take my trousers off, and then my pants off, can you hold this around me?’. Its like a bad porno already – ITV’s clearly widening its market. Anyhoo, Timmy began discussing what ‘great friends’ the two of them have become. Then he said to David: ‘I just like being with you. You know when you were laying down in your hammock, and I was with you?’. Yeah, yeah, i know. That time when he was asleep, and didn’t know you were there, Timmy.
In the camera shed later, Timmy said: ‘David gets my creative juices flowing’. Creative juices swimming with Rohypnol, right? Then, probably thinking he could distract everybody from cottoning on to his Masterplan (fat chance – he hadn’t reckoned on my razor-sharp intellect), he said: ‘David and my friendship just keeps on GROWING’.Yep. Growing in your pants. I know whats going on! You can’t pull the wool over my eyes! Anyway, for those of you who care about the other dullards on the team: Carly pushed vacuousness to a whole new level telling Brian how hard it was being wealthy and having loads of fun: ‘I had too much, too soon’, she said. Poor Carly. Nichola and David continued their arguments, which I am now choosing to read as sexual tension, to make things more interesting in my head. Oh yeah, and Killroy got voted off. Woop woop! Oh no wait, I don’t care. I remember now.
By Nicolette Smith
When not neglecting her social life and educational development in favour of watching televisual detritus, Nicolette enjoys pretending to be interested in her colleagues children and reading books rather than talking to actual people. She is still young enough to be contemplating getting an offensive slogan tattooed on her person, but old enough to rationalise that this is probably a poorly thought-out plan for the new-and-improved Nicolette of the future.