I'm right at the beginning of June Brown discovering she is related to some sort of Boxer, to be honest I am trying to ignore the other channels. Somewhere else out there among the digital signals, X quantity of the effluent of society is being pumped from Broken Britain into a small house filled with cameras, mirrors and hormone-enriched mineral water. There is a positive, if you will view it that way. That's twelve people not looting Britain's major cities and, presumably, they've had to give up jobs. So thats twelve (or so) jobs, around for us graduates to take from unsuspecting people that have worked, potentially quite hard...
Even as an avid fan for ten years (has it been that long?), of Big Brother, I somehow totally fail to understand the compulsion. It seems that even most Class-A drugs have more appeal (or at least social justification), than watching Two drunk young people squatting on each-other, drunk, trying to master the Karma Sutra, looking like they have the book inside out. If I wanted this surely I would A) take a walk down the high street, or B) do it myself at greater satisfaction.
Without wanting to sound like the risk of sounding like the Daily Telegraph, or the Daily Mail I shall probably stop now, until i can think about something less bitter. Or something at least someway profound.
Til' the next time.
J.
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