CBB5: Day 1 - 3rd Jan: Opening Night

Glory be, Celebrity Big Brother is back and, for better or worse, I shall be glued to my screen and my PC for this unpaid diatribe/tribute.

It rained, it was bleak and there was a pungent whiff of disappointment in the air – yes, opening night of the endlessly trailed Celebrity Big Brother. As I settled down with a Vicks Inhaler, a few Sudafed and pillow (nothing kinky, just a cold) I waited with semi trepidation for the much rumoured The Hoff, The Shat, K-Fed and Whitney Houston. Davina appeared, gurning like a good ‘un and I knew I was more likely to see Lisa Riley, Lee Bloody Ryan “off of Blue”, some woman who once played topless darts and a camply embarrassing newsreader. The tabloids were quite good this year (though, they had a spy it seems) so it was no shock when the housemates were revealed.

First up, Jermaine Jackson. Forever to be known as “brother of Michael and Janet” he appeared looking like a slightly more wooden version of Captain Scarlet. He lamented the temporary loss of his servants, proclaimed his family would be watching (but not Tito, Jermaine, he’s on t’other side with Tess and Vern) and smiled in a polite yet shut-up-now way when Davina once again mentioned Michael. Hell, why not sack Jermaine entirely and install a cardboard cut-out of Michael in the house instead. Once Jermaine was in, the cardboard cut out of his odd little brother seemed wonderfully tempting.

Jermaine wondered, with an amazing flash of sincerity, why he was “doing this.” Why is he? Perhaps he is aiming for the David Gest affect only he has a chronic lack of David’s charm. Poor Jermaine stood around bewildered, lost and afraid – gradually morphing into that black warrior figure who stood next to Action Man on his display box. Again, without the charm.

Next, Danielle Lloyd. Like Jermaine the press were right. Cue montage of silly bimbo shots and a scanty girl with a Colleen-ish accent posing in a way Colleen never would. She shopped. Gratuitously. Danielle, apparently, only fell in love with her beauty contestant judge Teddy Sheringham after she won the title. Of course. She lost said title anyhow and she and Ted are still happily ensconced in their pseudo-retro Essex love nest months later.

Naturally, because she is young, attractive and the owner of ample boobs, Danielle was roundly booed. By girls. She’s not a bad lass though so far, quite nice and quite average. She’s pretty in a sort of “wasn’t she that hairdresser who used to be in EastEnders” way. I fear Danielle will leave early. She could single headedly save a housemate’s life (which she may very well have to) and unite the Arab world and still she’d come out of the house to another chorus of boos and vilification.

Ken Russell. Papers spot on again, kudos to the Daily Star (and I don’t say that often. Or ever). I only knew Ken for directing “that mucky film with Oliver Reed where he had his tackle out.” He arrived looking – literally – larger than life in a floral shirt, a waistcoat made from the remnants of an Indian restaurant and a shock of mad white hair. He sang, danced and waved at a perplexed crowd of 12-year-olds who looked, frankly, petrified. He joined our host on stage and attempted a Pete Bennett impersonation to no avail. A deathly silence shuddered through the throng. Pete Bennett? How 2006!!

Davina held his hand and looked worriedly at Ken who arrived not only with a bright red face but with the outline of the Grim Reaper behind him. He danced again and nearly fell off stage. For one awful minute I dropped my Vicks Inhaler, mentally preparing myself to witness The First Live Televised Stroke of 2007. (Surely even Endemol wouldn’t sink so low!) Mercifully old Ken was fine and the lovely Davina accompanied him down the stairs where he wobbled and I secretly hoped he’d make Davina topple. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long to see that!

Jo O’Meara. The moon faced former lead singer of pop muppets S Club 7. She never really had the looks of the other girls in the group but she certainly had the voice. She now does reality TV (that singing thing last year) and she showed us her puppies in the VT. Not her Danielle-type puppies but the breeding dog ones. Jo got a good reception, even the girls cheered. Having talent, not discarding your bra and not boffing footballers is what it seems to take these days to impress a modern female audience.

Leo Sayer. A man in his fifties who is basically a two-year-old boy with ADHD trapped in an adult body. He must exist on a diet solely consisting of Smarties, Skittles and an Intravenous line of Pepsi. Nice though he was, he was also massively annoying. He’ll grate, mark my words.

Shilpa Shatti next, a “Bollywood Angelina Jolie” doubtless known to millions around the world, but utterly unknown to me. She waxed pathetical in the VT about her entourage and her status, lived in a gorgeous house, owned a daft looking dog and basically came across as a bit of a diva. Yet, she is undeniably beautiful, has a mesmerising voice and brought an air of elegance never – ever – seen on Big Brother before. Well, not since Kinga!

Carole Malone. I only know of Carole from her appearances as a semi-poisonous talking head on various programmed about “zelebs.” She never fails to mention how she hates Heather Mills, that journalism is tough and that she is happy to say what she thinks. The crowd hated her but she looked undaunted, like a thick skinned elephant stampeding its way through a tetchy group of gazelles. She’ll be out first, I’m sure. The only good thing about Carole Malone is the public set-to she had with the impossibly odious Jasmine Lennard on some TV show or other. Sadly, YouTube don’t have it.

Ian Watkins – or “H – from Steps”. He made the ‘shock’ announcement that he was gay yesterday, apparently. Come on Ian! It seems everyone knew except you! I must confess, Ian’s VT showed him applying make-up (in an actorly way, you understand) to a mock-stubbled chin in a dingy dressing room somewhere and I did find him a little bit attractive. I had to force myself to imagine Ken Russell in the nude so I could come to my sense.

Cleo Roccos. Men who were adolescents in the 1980s remember this woman fondly. A comedy side kick of the fab Kenny Everett. Now, see, I remember Kenny Everett more, especially now his spirit seems to have been channelled by Russell Brand only with large sections of the humour missing. Still, Cleo was gorgeous, clearly mad and quite unperturbed by everything. She also had boobs bigger than Danielle’s. Boob envy alert!

Danny Tourette. I’m a young, hip and happening woman but I’d never heard of this guy. I was convinced (and haven’t quite shaken it off) that this fella was, in fact, Dennis Pennis funny man Paul Kaye in his latest guise. Alas no – hipper more happening people that I tell me he’s in a punk band famous for phlegming on stage and beating up fans! Bet his MySpace page is dead zany too! He arrived pi$$ed and belligerent, throwing his bag as though we all cared. He immediately antagonised the crowd, retorting to the resident boo boy who dared to shout “who are you?” with V-signs and a torrent of foul mouthed “who the f*** are you mate!” The photographers baited, he responded and the boos got worse.

He took an age to get on stage until Davina was forced to march down and collect him like an angry mother, grappling with her stroppy 10-year-old son in the playground. Donny pulled his arms from Davina’s grasp suddenly sending the high-heeled one into a forward flurry – she nearly dropped her cue cards for goodness sake! A quick thinking Assistant Producer somewhere ensured we wouldn’t see The First Live Televised TV Presenter Assault and Battery of 2007 by cutting to a camera around 900 feet in the air. Burly security men arrived, Davina was undeterred and Donny Div was ushered inside, smelling “like a brewery.” Get away!

Donny won’t last unless there is a metamorphosis into something more original. He’s the sort you’d actually vote to evict if you hadn’t decided to boycott voting this year since Endemol’s-disgraceful-reintroducing-Nikki-into-BB7 stuff. Go on, just once. Treat yourself.

Finally, another true rumour. Dirk “The Face” Benedict. Dirk has the same affect on us females who were youngsters in the 1980s as Cleo does on men. Though he looked older, because…well, he is older, he was still, in my eyes, divine. He arrived in his A-Team van with the A-Team music. He edged out of the van with all the gusto of a man in his late 50s who hasn’t worked much. That was the best bit. The crowd loved him. He worked it, charmed us all and told Davina he was looking for love with a “lady of a certain age” before proceeding to perv, gawp and admire the 20-year-old Danielle. He’ll be popular, unless he’s actually like George Galloway underneath it all. Please, God, no!

The show finished. Danielle saw Ken in the nude, Leo twittered and twittered and Donny was almost sobered when he realised he was more unpopular than Carole. I succumbed to cold and flu and disappeared to bed, glad my live feed was down.

More tomorrow. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Do you care?
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