It appears the entire production company for Big Brother has, against all the laws of anatomy and several of those of physics, disappeared up its own arse.
Last night, the nine-thousand-four-hundred-and-fifty-eighth series of Big Brother (or was it the nine-thousand-four-hundred-and-fifty-ninth? I may have lost count somewhere between "I don't care" and "please, Big Brother, fuck off and die") started with the shock revelation that none of the people going into the house are 'housemates'.
Pardon? Really do regret to have to burst your bubble like this, but just saying they're not housemates doesn't mean they're not. You see, they're in the house, and they're being watched with cameras for our (and I really hesitate to abuse the word like this) 'entertainment'. That really does cover it as far as the definition of a 'housemate' goes.
I suppose my annoyance at this whole thing is fuel'd by sheer disbelief not at the 'audacity' of the production team, but at their gentle insistence that this is somehow meant to be highly entertaining and a plot twist quite Machiavellian in its cunning.
Which it isn't.
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