ELEANOR GOGGIN

More Animal Farm than Big Brother

Every year I swear to myself I won’t do it. And every year, much to the chagrin of my kids and friends, I succumb to the vile voyeurism that is Big Brother. Sometimes I lie about it and pretend I only watch the odd episode but if the truth be told I’m an addict. And I have it on series link to ensure I don’t miss an episode. They are always without exception vile people who talk about front bottoms and back bottoms and various carnal positions and stuff people of my age never heard of.

And every year I wonder how I would fit in. They usually throw in a few older wans like me just to shake it up a bit and I genuinely would love to try it. That would rightly finish my kids off if they heard me talking about front bottoms on TV. My tolerance levels are dropping by the minute so I would probably be up for manslaughter. Murder would be too harsh because I think everyone would agree that a case could be put forward for justifying the demise of any or all of them.

Nothing is sacred. They walk around with nothing on and subject us to large bottoms in the air. My Rubenesque derriere would fit in very nicely if the scope of the camera lens allowed.

I’m not sure if it’s a perverse desire on my part to feel intellectually superior for once in my life because they have to be the most cerebrally-challenged people I’ve ever seen. One of them didn’t know what continent she was on the other night. Or indeed what a continent was.

There’s another show on before it called Love Island which involves the quest for the perfect partner and causes my kids to go off at the deep end when they see it on.

Now there’s a thought, Love Island for old ones. That would really send them over the edge.