OK: So it's Friday night. You're bereft. You're alone. You're too shacked-up-with-kids to go out on a Friday night. Even if you've got babysitting coverage; you're too old and too disinterested in the opposite sex to bother to go out and attract yet more dysfunction into your life.
You're house companions (in the absence of your departed spouse) are the BB Housemates.
How flippin' SAD is that!
You watch them sleep; you wake up to them; you observe their annoying habits; they turn you off; they turn you on, their voices grate; and they appear masogonistic, ignorant and dull.
You oggle Stuarts pecs for a little tea-time lady-light-relief; Lukes lickable armpits; Dales Fake Tan etc. I oggle. I talk at them...and tonight I get the chance to Vote them out of my life for good!!!
BIG BROTHER, THIS IS DEVINA, YOU HAVE 10 SECONDS TO SAY YOUR GOODBYES.
Now; if the BB Producers were to take over the running of the British Family Justice System, I reckon we'd get RESULTS!
Done. Dealt with. Off! Ten seconds to get out. Greeted with Boos of the baying crowd...
...oh; and £100,000 for the winner!
Pass me another Mr Kiplings Fondant Fancy; I'm in for a busy evening. Anyone else sad enough to join me?
PS: Ever wondered what Mr Kippling does at the weekend?
Sera I have just busted a couple of ribs!!!!!!!!!!!!!! brilliant that was very clever.
I think the Chuckle Brothers would do a good job too might have a little more confidence in their abilities than some sols I have known.