In her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora this week explains why she’s stopped watching one of her favourite telly programmes.
I loved watching Big Brother. Not only did I watch it, I was addicted to it. Yes, my name is Flaming Nora and I was a Big Brother addict. I’ve watched it every year since it first started. I’ve tuned in for the nightly episodes, the catch-ups, the round-ups, BBLB and Big Mouth and heaven help me, sometimes even the live feed. I logged on to as many sites as I could find to read gossip and I devoured all I could in the tabloids and big papers to feed my need to know more. So yes, you could say I was something of a Big Brother fan. But now, no more. This year I’m going cold turkey.
I’m not watching Big Brother this year because instead of getting an insight into what people turn into when cooped up in a small space with each other, it’s now all buttocks and boobs. I cried buckets at the end of the first ever Big Brother when winner Craig gave his winnings to his cousin for a hospital op. I can’t say I felt the same watching Kinga and the wine bottle. If that’s reality TV, I don’t want it any more. But I went back and tried again to watch it, kept trying to like it, to prove to myself that it wasn’t that bad. But let’s face it, it was.
The shows, and I include the Celebrity shows here, over the last three years have made heroes of people who need psychological counselling, and in the process Endemol has made a mockery of its viewers. The final nail in the coffin for this fan was the last Celebrity Big Brother and the racism row that led to the demonisation of Jade and the sainthood of Shilpa – neither of which should have happened.
So, this year I made a conscious decision not to watch Big Brother. I felt a bit holier-than-thou on the night before it started, secure in the knowledge my mind would be kept entertained by higher things than a show packed with bimbos and loose screws. And then it was launch night and the cold turkey kicked in. I was working on my PC and listening to the radio as the launch night took place. I could have watched it, heaven knows I wanted to and it was hard not to switch on the TV and see them all scuttle into the house. But I didn’t.
It’s been over a week now and I haven’t given in. I’ve stuck to my guns and held out on Big Brother. I was weakened for a while, let’s be honest, when I read on the web about an all-female house, a WI member and the Greenham common woman. It sounded just up my street, a short peak wouldn’t hurt, would it? But then I saw the twins on the front page of the tabloids and the lone male entering the house. I knew then I couldn’t watch it, couldn’t get drawn in to caring about what happened to people I don’t know and have nothing in common with. Not any more. My name is Flaming Nora and I am now officially Big Brother free. [Flaming Nora]
Flaming Nora is editor of Corrieblog
