Big Brother – the dregs
I’m always disappointed when Big Brother comes back on the small screen.
Not because it’s not as good as I hope. God knows, I didn’t understand why anyone would waste a second of their life watching this rubbish the first time it appeared, and how it’s still managing to attract people after the so-called revelation that it’s all fixed just to make it sensationalised “car-crash” TV only serves to demonstrate the mental deficiencies of those who sit glued to their sets watching it.
You can’t avoid it, and are guaranteed to see bits of the freak-show while your digital TV clunks through the channels, and the current batch is no exception to the description, looking and behaving like a collection of sub-normal weirdos that you’d want to cross the street to avoid for fear of your life. Or, as some might say, if you found them on fire in the street, you’d try and calm them down for moment to ask them of they could give you directions to the nearest public conveniences.
So, why would I be disappointed at the return of Big Brother?
Simple.
In the real Big Brother story, 1984, our hero (Winston Smith) described Big Brother as “A boot, eternally stamping on a face”, and the fact that’s not what we’re treated to being allowed to watch for the seemingly endless hours and days that Big Brother is televised is what’s disappointing.
The participants are ideal material, and watching them being stamped on for hours would be an absolutely wonderful use of the hours that are otherwise wasted on broadcasting the rubbish that appears to fill the hours of Big Brother.
