My Little BB Eye: Ultimate Celebrity Survivor
Let’s face it – with viewing figures crashing, Ofcom lawsuits left, right and centre and an increasing reliance upon filling the house with mentals -the standard Big Brother format is looking more tired than a night on the tiles with Jodie Marsh.
So just like the producers at Endemol, the OTB Brain Trust have put our heads together and come up with a new concept: Big Bro does Battle Royale – an epic fight to the death amongst some of the more colourful characters from the show’s ten year history.
You might ask: why does it have to end this way? Violence is not the answer. Yeah, yeah we know. But think about it – many of these losers are now struggling for work, towing the breadline, or pimping themselves out on GMTV for minimum wage.
Sexing things up has only lead to the fellating of various kitchen implements, and grunting beneath the kitchen table – hardly sizzling telly. Although Page Three will never go empty, wouldn’t you much rather see former entrants like belly-dancing fruit-loop Kemal, ladyboy Nadia and manky Makosi in a spleen-splitting fight to the death?
Exactly! So grab your weapon of choice, place your bets and let the culling begin!
As the sun rises on a new dawn of Big Bro, there is no self-indulgent, champagne-fuelled, opening night party. It’s survival of the fittest damnit! Instead our cunning contestants are delivered to the house in cramped containment units, fumigated with the scent of meat to fire them up like the furious carnivores they are, into a murderous rage.
As we lift the lid on each of the units, the contestants leap out of confinement and rush with the speed of starved cheetahs into the living room. As the group congregates, each scopes out the other: eyeballing the nervous, licking wet, hungry lips and baring teeth.
Our final ten are:
Makosi Musambasi (BB6); Lea Walker (BB7); Jon Tickle (BB4); Nadia Almada (BB5); tag team of Kemal and Kinga (BB6) (who, sickeningly, were once a couple); Nasty Nick Bateman (BB1), Alex Sibley (BB3), Helen Adams (BB2), Alexandra De Gale (BB9) and twins Samanda (Samantha and Amanda) Marchant (BB8).
Naturally, the first to pipe up is loud mouth bully Alex De Gale. An evil cackle escapes her lips and she launches into an abusive speech – picking on the twins for dressing like a schizophrenic Pear Drop; Helen she brands a “pathetic air-head” before turning her cutting gaze to Kemal and Kinga – “Don’t even get me started on you two…”
Just as Alex is about to summon the full force of her Raging Rant powers, inhaling all the evil from the fires of Hades ready for a fiery, dragon-style outpouring, the other housemates – starved for three days previously – howl at the new moon in a ravenous cacophony and recreate the Patrick Goad’s death scene from Dead Set.
As Alex would say, “End of.”
Oh she may look harmless, but after the beasts set upon filleting Alex, Helen is forced to use her secret weapon to lull the feeding fools into a dreamlike state of calm.
Her Welsh lilt permeates through to the heart of every contestant. As they quickly slip into a pleasureable coma, Adams begins filing her razor-sharp talons, ready to make sushi out of the lot of them, slicing and dicing her way to the £70,000 prize.
What she didn’t plan for, was the nyphomaniacal love between Kemal and Kinga, who, in achieving such a high level of zen have decided to indulge in tantric lovemaking. Unfortunately for Helen, this merely brings back memories of her doomed romance with fellow BB housemate Paul (they were like Preston and Chantelle of 2001) and her heart spontaneously implodes in her chest.
It sounds like a wet fart.
With all the blood, clean-freak Alex Sibley starts to itch. As Sibley’s OCD is rapidly sent into overdrive, the Marigolds come out and Alex furiously attempts to scrub Makosi’s moustache off her face whilst spraying Sam and Amanda in the eyes with Mr Muscle. Naturally the girls hiss and one screams “It burns!” like the Wicked Witch of The West.
Lea Walker comes to the rescue and distracts Alex with a floorshow to rival the world’s best contortionist (utlising all the skills she learned back in her porn star days). Walker’s silver, sequinned thong catches the light at just the right moment and the glare burns Alex’s plastic, wipe clean retinas. “I’m bliiiiiind” he wails, in an attempt to reach a pitch that only dogs can hear.
This gives Lea the perfect opportunity to hurl herself with the force of Stone Cold Steve Austin, and smother Alex with her mammoth breasts.
Sex change He-she Nadia Almada, who has been decidely quiet up to this point, cannot help but stare in awe of Lea’s killer chest-icles. Her surgeon was good, but damn, does Lea put her meagre handfuls to shame.
Not only that, but Lea seems transfixed on the lumpiness in the crotch area of Nadia’s swimsuit. Walker’s face is tranfixed in a grimace and Almada can’t take it any more. In a jealous fit of boob envy Nadia whips out the aptly named “Bullet” – a personal pleasure device she keeps in her pants at all times in memory of her now-defunct phallus – grabs Lea by the head and rams it through her ear in a pastiche of the Damon Wayans toilet scene in Scary Movie.
Lea’s comatosed body drops to the floor. At least she got all the orifices covered.
As Nadia turns to face the other sourfaced contestants, Makosi gets all up in her grill, causing Nadia to bat her away with the bullet-shaped…. object.
“Argh”, Makosi screams, “I’m not kidding guys, I could be pregnant…”
Amid the collective groans of the rest of the group, Kemal attempts to take charge. “I fell for this before biatch, it won’t work again,” he jeers. As he rolls his sleeves up and nods to his partner in crime, Kinga the Minga, Nadia stops him in his tracks.
Drawing on all her flagging testosterone reserves, Nadia puffs herself up and nuts Makosi right between the eyes. One sucker punch, BAM, and Makosi is out for the count.
Recognising that with the highest kill count so far, Nadia is a serious threat to any kind of long-term chance of survival – Kemal is forced to bring out the big guns.
He advances upon Nadia,waving his manicured hands in front of her as he begins to belly-dance. He inflates his well-concealed belly pouch like an irate pigeon, and begins his dance of death, yelling to Kinga , “Hand me my embellished hip scarf, woman!”
Kemal’s snake hips twist and twirl with a hypnotic fervour, his eyes turn red and as he begins whispering to the numbed Nadia in forked Parseltongue, Kemal reveals his secret half-lizard roots (that David Icke was right about something) Like Shakira, his hips don’t lie. Or do they?
Meanwhile killer Kinga creeps behind our Nads, removing the bottle that was unfortunately secreted in a dark and unnecessarily moist place. With one fell swoop Karolczak brings down her version of Excalibur and Almada is no more.
Total Wipeout. Not to mention the abundant STI risks.
The room suddenly seems oddly empty. Tired and worn out from their sh*gging, murderous rampage, Kemal and Kinga are flagging. With each breath their lungs tighten and the air seems all the more claustrophobic. From the kitchen they hear the sound of girlish laughter, and a saucepan clatters to the floor, shattering the silence.
Like an animal, Kemal sniffs the air and the couple tracks Samanda down to a narrow corridor between the bedrooms. With pure, blackened evil running through their veins, Samanda have dressed themselves in a twinset (arf arf) of powder blue dresses, The Shining look is very in this summer, says this week’s Heat magazine.
“Come play with us,” Samanda whisper, their hands clasped behind their backs. “Forever, and ever, and ever…”
“What’s in your hand?” Asks Kinga – no stranger to the concealed weapon.
“Do you mean – these?” Samanda replies, removing two epic 12inch machetes and smiling sweetly.
Kemal and Kinga never make it back to the kitchen, and the corridor is now painted a violent shade of death.
As Samanda lick the blood from their fingernails, they notice Jon Tickle’s reflection in one of the BB mirrored hidden cameras. As they leap out to attack, Nasty Nick stands in their way, resplendent in Agent Smith attire and Matrix sunglasses. Indoors. The self-obsessed gimp.
“Well, hello my pretties,” Nick rasps, “Let me get a good look at you.”
Bateman makes off with the glasses to reveal that his eyeballs have been replaced my skin-searing lasers, in his bid to attempt a second career as a tattoo removal specialist. Unfortunately for Samanda his rays are set way past stun.
There’s a BB-Q and it smells of little piggies.
As Tickle’s reflection vanishes, Bateman replaces the shade on his gore-inducing gaze. A voice reverberates through the quiet – “Why did you save me?”
“Why Mr Tickle, there is much you do not know about me. We have a longstanding history, you and I.”
Suddenly a voice booms from behind Nick’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
“Big Brother never told you what happened to your father, did they Jon?”
“My father is dead.”
“No, Jon….I AM YOUR FATHER.”
Tickle wrestles Bateman to the floor, which is now covered with blood, remnants of the fallen ones and a mass of cutlery. Nick attempts to remove his Raybans (see what I did there?) but Tickle is prepared, and forks him in both eyes.
Jon runs, but Bateman trips him, having previously tied Tickle’s shoelaces together with his ambidextrous monkey toes. Tickle claws his way along the carpet in the hope of trapping himself in the diary room, as Tickle drags his weary, now bound feet, Bateman advances.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bateman jeers, grasping for Tickle’s shirt sleeve. Suddenly, with all the Power of Greyskull, Tickle hurls Bateman onto the diary room chair and slams the door behind him. It seals with a click and Bateman is trapped.
Trying his hand at the lock, Bateman hears a faint clicking. “What’s that noise?” he exclaims.
“Well, whilst the rest of you were beating each other senseless, I was rigging the diary room chair with a highly explosive device. By my calculations, you have about six seconds to live.”
“Oh sh*t” cries Bateman before bursting into a ball of flames.
Giving the obligatory thumbs up, Tickle turns to the camera’s and exclaims:
“Now, that’s what I call (Evil) Genius!”
And if that hasn’t sated your need for Big Brother take-the-pissery, head over to our not-at-all condescending interview with Stuart Hosking of Big Brother 2 who bigs up his prospects and the imminent Big Brother Musical. For more reality shiz, check out our interviews with the winners of Britain’s Got Talent 2009, Diversity and X-Factor Runners-Up, JLS.