There was more going on in the jungle last night than in Jake Quickenden’s head, although admittedly that isn’t a difficult feat to accomplish. What started off as a nice cocktail party comprising of blended bull genitals and swine anus (sounds like my wife’s cooking) ended with an X Factor reject, a rap star and a prim and proper newsreader performing the most awful yet addictive jungle ditty since Insania. Meanwhile, Edwina Currie was lying flat on her back (and not for the first time) and passing her thoughts secretively on the other campmates while Vicky Michelle was playing with toy parrots. Kendra was proudly boasting that she doesn’t remember the names of most of her one night stands and finally, Jimmy ‘BullyBanter’ Bullard became the surprise first evictee.
So where do I start with this one? Okay, okay, the beginning it is. Continue reading
Gemma Collins spouts diarrhoea on a daily basis, although admittedly this is generally out of her mouth. Last night, the fluorescent yellow excrement (that’s me never eating custard again) was flowing heavily from both ends, as Gemma had a bit of a dicky tummy from all of the deep fried porridge she was having to endure. Always one to play things down, Gemma became convinced that she had malaria, of all things, and, despite walking around and having the energy to constantly complain and lift Craig Charles up with her feet, she insisted that she was suffering from the killer disease (which, by the way, isn’t carried by the mosquitoes in Australia)
When she wasn’t dying from Malaria or threatening to kill herself (yes, she did that again. Tasteful) she was complaining about how much she was suffering from starvation, which prompted the amiable Craig to gently point out that they were in a better position than many of the starving people in the world. This blew Gemma’s mind and she promised never to complain about being hungry again, although I can’t see that lasting. If she thinks the hunger is hard now, goodness only knows how she will feel after 2-3 weeks on congealed rice and bean mush.
I’m (kind of) a Celebrity is back- complete with creepy critters and huge challenges; and that’s just the celebs themselves. Ten million of us tuned in last night to see a group of people we’re sure we’ve seen somewhere before thrown together in an Australian torture camp. For most, it would be a horrendous dive in living conditions but for Gemma at least, it was a step up from Essex life.
The series began in the usual way; ten famous-ish faces from footballers to models to Red Dwarf pilots/cabbies to someone who once went out with that Playboy pervert; everyone had a legitimate claim to fame and spent the first five minutes talking to the screen from a comfortable cocktail providing hotel about how excited they were by the challenge that lay ahead. It is destined to be their last feelings of positivity for three weeks.
Michael Buerk, the amiable BBC news guy, was the first to arrive, followed closely by his intellectual match, Tinchy Stryder. After not quite mastering a ‘friends 4 lyf’ handshake, Michael and the Tinch got off to a heartwarming start; setting in place this year’s version of the Joe Swash and George Takei love-in. Michael is a likeable chap; himself pointing out the irony of a celebrity snob entering a celebrity reality show and, like any good journalist; he soon had former PlayGirls teaching him how to twerk.
Once the awkward ‘so erm, who are you?’ conversations were done with (‘Of COURSE I know what ‘Hello, Hello, is!’) it was time to get down to business. One set of celebrities were heading to jail (‘Not AGAIN!’ cried the legendary Craig Charles) while the other would be their rescue team.