I’m A Celebrity (Reviewer) Get Me Out of Here: Day 12

December 1, 2008 by  
Filed under Reviews

The worst thing about ‘I’m a Celeb’? That’s right, its those excruciating Iceland adverts which ITV, behaving like a persistent flasher following you round the supermarket, insists on exposing us all to before every episode. Poor Kerry’s tarted about, rabidly troughing chicken satay and crispy beef on skewers as if her sobriety depended on it, while a simulated party atmosphere is fabricated around her. The party is noticeably stimulant-free, and there is no sign of her husband (he’s the one enthusiastically disguised as a Big Issue seller), so one must assume that the producers employed the vigorous use of artistic license. Those creative types, eh?

On to the main event, which opened with Nicola pretending to miss Killroy, in a poorly disguised attempt to come across as something other than a complete narcissist. The contestants like to put in quite a bit of ‘shed-time’, because it allows them to develop their audience-friendly characters, and win votes by impersonating real people. There’s a family-friendly moral in there somewhere, but I’m not the Brother’s Grimm so I shan’t bother writing it down for you to relay to the kids later in the hope that they won’t become sociopaths. For the record: I’d like to insert a disclaimer here delineating that I won’t be financially liable if they do.

There’s going to be a celebrity death-match taking place soon between Nicola and David. David is the Machiavellian character of the piece – such a malcontent! Always brooding and scheming, with Timmy as his Baldrick-like sidekick. David is utterly wasted as a hasbeen: he should be fighting Vinne Jones for movie roles as grizzly-voiced east end gangsters. Nicola said of David: ‘If I could buy a Christmas present for any of my camp mates, I would buy David a voucher for my cosmetic surgeon to sort his face out, because it still isn’t quite right”. Careful Nicola, there’s a chelsea smile waiting for you on the outside if you don’t keep your trap shut!

Now that Killroy’s got the boot, Timmy must be on the lookout for his next recruit. The next recruit for his three-strong gang of deviants, that is. Step forward, Brian. There have been indications in the past that Brian suffered from a mild personality disorder, now it appears that his condition has been exacerbated by the stress of the jungle. Clearly delusional, he said to Simon: “Simon we need more role models like you, we need more people like you getting the publicity so that young kids who don’t think they’ve got a chance can see there is a legitimate route to the top”. A legitimate route to the top of the scrapheap, you mean? Put the horn down, Brian. If you recall, Blue were famous for their ability to start drunken fights, not for throwing themselves in front of Palestinian bulldozers.

Timmy and David were still hard at work on ‘Biff Baff Boff’, their number one hit-in-the-making. Timmy suggested bringing Brian May on board as a collaborator, but David rightly dismissed him as being ‘too old’. They also dismissed Madonna, because she was going through a divorce. Yep, because thats why it would NEVER happen. David then said: “We can easily write lines like rice and beans, rice and beans, rice and beans. Nice little lines like that. I can think of other things like that but I think they’re probably saved now for the end”. Yes, save it. Save it for when I don’t have to watch. Timmy also suggested they launch their own comedy show. Will someone else explain the obvious to them please, because I really can’t bear it.

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.