Something quite strange has happened to me. I’ve embraced January like I’ve never done before. I’ve spoken about my love of December in previous blogs and it’s always a bit of a comedown to go from socialising every other day, to spinach juices and an empty diary. Luckily though, I have Celebrity Big Brother; an awful programme which I can’t stop myself from watching.
I stopped watching the ordinary citizen Big Brother a long time ago but there’s something fascinating about a bunch of celebrities clinging on to their last hope of fame. I’m a big people watcher. I’ve always been fascinated by the human race and I’ve always worked with people, whether it was hairdressing, social work or radio and TV. I’m so interested in relationships, how we interact with each other, our body language and our potential to get love or hate or be indifferent to a person.
We’re all running around, like ants really aren’t we? I like that one, I’ll avoid that one, and I’ll love that one. We pick up new friends, we lose old ones, we get very close to someone, we break up. And so it goes on. And all the time we’re learning about ourselves, learning from others and constantly changing.
And with Celebrity Big Brother, we get to watch this play out in a very intense environment, from the comfort of our own sofa, with the people we choose to share a home with. And it’s brilliant to see the drama unfold before your very eyes. I think I’m particularly interested in the celebrity version because they are a different breed of human. They are people that have found themselves in the spotlight, to varying degrees of success, who have had special privileges and have had people look up to them and adore them, at their career height (even Kavana).
But then of course, fame, like relationships and everything else in life, moves on to the next big thing and you’re sat there saying, ‘remember me?’ Work dries up, what you thought may last forever, is suddenly gone and it’s back to Plan B. (Which many celebrities don’t have).
So some evil (genius) TV producer decides we put them in a house and watch the ego’s and the narcissism seep out of every celebrity pore. As Brits, we also seem to take great pleasure in seeing someone’s fall from grace. Yes, we like our people to do well and excel in their field but don’t get too cocky, or we will put you on a reality TV show.
We’re cruel aren’t we? But at times like these, I’m proud to be British.