Big Brother

Back in 2000, I still lived with my parents (as I was only 15) and I was therefore subject to their media choices.  As a printer, my dad had access to a lot of newspapers.  In fact, Honeywood men had printed newspapers for generations, until I came along and expediated the demise of print by booking advertising money into digital formats.  Every day, the Daily Express and the Daily Telegraph would appear in the household.  As a precocious adolescent, I would flick through both, seeing what was going on in the world instead of sniffing glue in the woods on Bookham Common.  Their alarmist headlines and woe-betide-our-glorious-nation editorials were taking their toll on my ability to enjoy life, especially as everything was apparently perfect in the fifties.  One particularly salacious event, covered in both titles with similarly outraged prudishness, was the launch of Big Brother on our UK shores.  What was this kinky Dutch format doing on British households’ tellies?  It was political correctness gone mad.  We didn’t have it in the fifties and we were fine then!  Let’s blame Labour etc.  I didn’t really see the appeal in the show.  I could watch real people by sitting on a bench in Leatherhead’s Swan Centre (once voted Britain’s worst High Street) but that didn’t offer entertainment to anyone.

Days later, both the Express and the Telegraph’s indignance was compounded.  Not only had these normal people had the audacity to go on TV looking for attention, not only had people exercised their freedom of choice by deciding to watch the footage, but these amoral housemates had deemed it acceptable to strip themselves naked, cover themselves in modelling clay, and imprint their naked body parts on the Big Brother house’s interior, fixtures and fittings.  I immediately knew that I had to watch it.

If you don’t recognise the format, then get out, but let’s just run through for people that might claim to have no idea because they’re too cool.  In short, it’s competitive flatmating.  A bunch of people are confined to one property, severed from the outside world.  Each week, they must complete tasks to determine their food budget, while all other things are shared: bedroom, kitchen, toilet, er, hot tub.  The population is then whittled down through nominating, where each housemate secretly names two other contestants they want to evict, giving full and valid reasons for that nomination (she’s missing her kids doesn’t count anymore).  The public then votes to eliminate one of the nominated housemates, until a batch of fifteen or so becomes a handful of characters, popular both in and out of the show.  Then we all vote for the winner and they get a cash prize.  Everyone else has just wasted weeks of their life when they could have been out and about.  Big Brother is the sinister, unseen force that governs everything in the house, unelected and unanswerable (like Tezza May).  Cameras and mics capture everything, which is then edited overnight into a one-hour show each evening on the previous day’s highlights, with viewers guided through by a narrator with a strong North-East accent.  There’s a Diary Room where contestants can talk directly into a camera while sitting on a novelty chair.  The Geordie narration makes Diary Room sound more like Dairy Room, so I like to imagine a milkmaid and maybe some cow teats in a buttery churning situation.  With the odd tweak, the core format has remained unchanged.  Because it’s great.

Eighteen years, and hundreds, literally hundreds, of hours later, Big Brother is still very much part of my life.  Regular readers of Just One More Episode will recall I’ve already extolled the virtues of Celebrity Big Brother (still, oddly, my most read post, so please ensure you’ve read that before carrying on thanks).  But there’s even more to say about Big Brother.  Firstly, people are quick to dismiss the whole concept of trash TV (even though there’s nothing wrong with a bit of trash: see Love Island and Geordie Shore posts).  Sure, the entertainment factor comes from people compromising their dignity in public (Kinga and the wine bottle in series 6) but this is because it reflects reality.  Earlier iterations emphasised more heavily that Big Brother was a social experiment: what would happen if a load of strangers were isolated and forced to live together?  Let’s film it and find out.  The show is unique in bringing together walks of British life that might never interact for a sustained period, unless you count one being vilified in a right-wing newspaper and the other one reading about it and casting judgment.  To this end, who wins and the task success rate become secondary to the raw human stories that play out.  I grant you that the earlier weeks are mired in competitive attention seeking, but I would like to posit four key stages to any cycle:

Phase 1: Oh my god oh my god oh my god I’m in Big Brother

After a time in hiding, the housemates burst in one by one, cheered or booed by a baying crowd on the way in, dressed up for maximum impact.  Overwhelmed to be on telly, everyone is too excitable to develop meaningful relationships, mostly because they are shrieking.  And jumping up and down till their boobs nearly tumble out of their tacky outfits.  Falseness reigns as first impressions count, yet nobody can contain their excitement when the garden opens or the beds are chosen or literally anything happens.  This is painful viewing.

Phase 2: In the battle of the personalities, volume is king

Settling into a routine, the biggest characters dominate airtime with all their showing off.  They jump in the hot tub with their clothes on.  They make noise in the bedroom at night.  They have arguments because they’re real and they can’t help being them and you better just deal with it because that’s who they are.  They get nominated.  They get evicted.  We forget them.

Phase 3: I’ve forgotten my real life and these relationships are all I know

The quieter characters emerge from under the radar.  By this point, their level of comfort and familiarity with each other engenders a calmer household.  They have private jokes that you want to join in on.  Their opinions have been challenged. 

Phase 4: I’ve been stuck here so long with people I hate that I really don’t know how I feel about them anymore

That person they hated stops being an issue because they literally can’t escape them, so they’ve had to find a way of living with them.  In normal life, you can avoid people who grind your gears.  In Big Brother, you share a bedroom with them.  Everyone starts having paranoid dreams about winning and describes it as the best thing that’s ever happened to them, inadvertently cussing the spouse they married or the children whose dates of birth pale into insignificance to being on TV.

Secondly, people disparage the casting, claiming it’s just freaks that want to be famous despite having no talent (I’m still listing things people don’t like about the show by the way).  It doesn’t matter who goes in and how annoying they are, the process eventually breaks everyone down into their raw components.  Most public figures have no discernible talent, and our culture revolves around instant reward for no work, so this criticism is pointless and unfair.

Thirdly, people claim it’s a tired old format.  How can something be sustained for so many years, especially when adaptations of its premise have come and gone in between.  Firstly, I’d just like to point out that Two And A Half Men ran for 262 episodes, and that Coronation Street has been going for 58 years, so viewers seem to love nothing more than tired old formats that weren’t even good in the first place.

Let’s go through each series in turn.  No, really:

Series 1, 2000

Oh, how unprepared we were.  There was outrage when Nasty Nick cheated, but many forget the constant lies he told, such as claiming to be in the Territorial Army while falling off some monkey bars with the athleticism of undercooked chicken.  Sexual activity peaked with Mel kissing two different boys on the lips and being treated like some Jezebel as a result.  Caggy’s raucous laugh caused irritation, yet it was her mate Nichola who released a single on exit.  I can still picture her little shaved head bobbing about on T4 while she sang The Game, her enthusiasm matched only by Vernon Kay’s embarrassment.  I was gutted for runner-up Anna, the former nun from Ireland.  Her wittier sense of humour lost out to the public’s sympathy for Craig, the first of many bodybuilders in the show, who had pledged the prize fund to charity.  He was frequently nominated by housemates, calling a meeting in an effort to understand their gripes, though none could bring themselves to say it was due to him being Scouse.  For the final week, only three housemates knocked about the gaff – gloriously tedious.

Series 2, 2001

I remember the housemates arriving in groups, dragging their wheelie cases behind them, but told not to speak till they got inside.  One of them, Elizabeth, looked so out of place just then and throughout, as if she had got off the wrong train and ended up trapped for the summer in a reality TV show.  Being terribly British, she made the most of it and threw herself into proceedings.  Obvious winner, Brian, went on to have a career presenting late-night TV gambling, but few recall his show bestie, Narinder.  Even fewer, including Brian and Narinder themselves, recall housemate Penny who, while first to be evicted, imagined she had formed some sort of trio with the other two, grabbing them both at the final as Brian’s fireworks went off and forcibly sharing in the glory.  Nice one, Penny.

Series 3, 2002

Considered by many a fine vintage, this series gave us many household names, including Jade Goody (RIP) and Kate Lawler, not to mention the rich house, poor house format shake up.  It was banging, giving the British public everything they needed in an excessively long TV show.  From many favourite moments, I am going for dour old Lynne from Scotland, who was up for eviction in week one and booted out by her housemates’ own decision, as they chose to save our Jade.  Lynne’s response to their concerned fussing as she packed her bags was an epic: “Please can you just f*ck off out my space?”

Series 4, 2003

After the previous year’s explosive arguments, a new crop of wannabes vowed to be nice, uncontroversial and non-dramatic.  Thus, Big Brother Bore came into existence, which not even an exchange with Big Brother Africa could make interesting.  Nothing happened.  One of the highlights was Steph, who came fourth, vacuuming the Diary Room.  Chinless Scottish virgin, Cameron, clinched the title, clad in a top from Next that friends inadvertently bought me for a birthday.  It took me years to forgive them.

Series 5, 2004

I can’t hold back chuckles just at the thought of this series.  Just, everything.  It blew away Big Brother Bore.  I have friends who still quote Marco’s exclamation of, “Big Brother, you’re so tristed [sic].”  There was the infamous Fight Night, there was Michelle’s beckoning of Stuart, her chicken from Team Handsome, under the table for some toe curling, there was Nadia’s response to no cigarettes and so much more.  A lasting image is winner, Nadia, clutching house enemy and runner up, Jason, as her victory was announced, a watershed moment in transgender acceptance trumping angry steroid men.

Series 6, 2005

Can you get pregnant in a jacuzzi?  Probably.  This was the harsh reality facing Makosi after a steamy session with series champion, Anthony.  This lad was indeed popular, with the unrequited love for him of best mate, Craig, created agonising drama.  But good triumphed over evil, with Saskia and Maxwell rejected by the public as house bullies, especially when a divide formed in the house along racial lines.  Hilarity, though, came in many forms, whether it was Eugene speaking in Morse Code, Lesley claiming she and her nan had the biggest boobs in Huddersfield, or the 900 Ofcom complaints received that year.

Series 7, 2006

People claim I came back from my year abroad early in order to watch this, but they can’t prove anything.  And it was worth it.  Housemates came and went throughout the series, with a bumper crop taking up residence.  I’ll resort to predictability and cite Nikki as my lasting, memorable individual.  I still sometimes look up her antics on YouTube to cheer myself up at work, as her tantrums edited into a montage multiplies their absurdity.  You’ll never tell someone which bed’s yours in the same way again: “That’s MY bed.”

Series 8, 2007

For a bit of a change, the original housemates in this series were all women.  It didn’t really help, as the arguments soon exploded everywhere.  Queen of the arguments was Charley, who spat such vitriol in confrontation, despite being a South-East London it girl (which isn’t a thing).  I want to give a special mention to Carole, twenty years older than most of her housemates, but getting everything out of the experience with the best of them.  First evictee, Shabnam, was later seen on reception in my old office, so the show really does lead to bigger and better things.

Series 9, 2008

Early days were marked with ejections for behaviour, one for threatening language and one for spitting, but things soon picked up with a lively household.  Cheerful throughout was Kathreya, a lady from Thailand who was obsessed with cookies.  Sadly, the nicest (and dullest) housemate, Rachel, won, proving normal people were still watching the show, whereas today’s fans go with the contestant who’s had the biggest journey.  Fun fact: I once spotted Rex and Mohamed at the Notting Hill Carnival.

Series 10, 2009

Channel 4’s tenth go on Big Brother was arguably the most savage affair.  Contestants arrived without housemate status and had to battle it out to attain this, getting this off to a desperate start.  Two of them were willing to change their names by deed poll to achieve this, with Oxford grad Freddie becoming (and suiting) Halfwit, and glamour model Sophie becoming Dogface.  Over time, I came to love the name Dogface, and so did Sophie.  She just owned it and didn’t care.  And then she won anyway.

Series 11, 2010

The last series on Channel 4 was won by West Country girl next door, Josie, who went on to lose all the weight and get permanently tanned, but who had bags of personality earning her the title.  I also remember a chap in a baseball cap called John James.  Beyond that, reading the Wikipedia page isn’t bringing much back for me, despite the huge population of housemates taking part.  Josie went on to walk from Ultimate Big Brother, a kind of greatest hits format that happened straight after, coming out after 11 weeks only to go back in again and watch series 5’s Nadia break down.

Series 12, 2011

Channel 5 cemented itself as the home of other channel’s unwanted shows by rehousing Big Brother.  I’m pretty sure I started watching and then suddenly fell out of love.  And then I stopped watching.  I think we can all agree I have an aggressive need to complete things (see post on Altered Carbon) but I gave myself the privilege of abandoning the show.  However, I think I came back for the end, as some of the cast look familiar.  How funny.

Series 13, 2012

I don’t really recall anything about this series either, but am 75% sure I watched.

Series 14, 2013

This year had a more charming cast, and was more focused on twists with a Secrets & Lies theme.  A mother and daughter entered for the first time, which was pleasantly awkward, and there was another set of twins, though Jack and Joe were the kind of people you were glad to be separated from by a TV screen.  They weren’t bad people, just pedestrian ones.

Series 15, 2014

Here we went again.  And lo, by the law of averages, someone I had known in real life appeared in the cast.  You got the feeling that the producers were giving in to serial auditionees, running out of applicants in the pool of wannabe contestants.  That said, winner Helen, who received nomination immunity at an early stage, was hilarious in her self-deprecation.  Her gravelly northern voice became oddly comforting.

Series 16, 2015

I’m relying on Wikipedia again, but I honestly watched this.  It looks like the rules got complicated and previous series’ contestants reappeared.  There was an Irish chap called Marc who began the line of housemates who enjoy creating discord for their own entertainment, but I only vaguely recall the winner, Chloe, and that she won mostly because he was horrible to her.

Series 17, 2016

Drawing a blank here a bit too.  But have managed to suss out that this was the one with the Other House.  Eventual winner, burly Jason, who teamed blazers and shirts with pale denim, was shocked to find his obsessed ex, Charlie, hiding in the Other House.  That was fun.  Otherwise, a classic blend of crackpots thanks.  You’ll get the impression I regret doing a paragraph on each series, and that’s because I’m boring even myself now to be honest.

Series 18, 2017

This was quite a good series.  By this point, lots of the contestants had skirted around other reality shows, so the classification of this being the normo version feels less and less apt.  I’m loath to mention him, but I do recall Joe being a particularly vile character, playing the role of the aged slaphead who seemed on the verge of twatting other housemates at all times.  At least Gemma Collins turned up for a bit.

Series 19, 2018

So here we are.  It feels like the producers just finally gave in and let all the reject applicants from over the years raid the house.  Yet I can’t stop watching.  Curious, though, that my memory of shows from further back in the past is crystal clear when I can’t recall the last few.  I’m getting old, and maybe it is time the show took a rest after all.  Luckily, then, this is the final series.  I wouldn’t be so sure though – it’s bound to get picked up further down the EPG.

Now I’m going to build the nostalgia with a list of things from old series that we just don’t have anymore:

Davina McCall, the live shows’ first host, was constantly incubating foetuses in the noughties, so it was the highlight of our lives when she appeared in a t-shirt emblazoned with Big Mutha in spangly letters

You could watch live footage from the house on e4 in the daytime, but if the housemates swore or slandered, the sound would be cut to a mic that sounded like it was in a bird sanctuary.  There was something therapeutic about bird tweeting replacing improvised dialogue

The current house is built so that evictions and in-victions (not a word) play out well on camera, but earlier houses simply had a long awkward walk to and from the front door

Big Brother was a back to basics experience, so they used to keep chickens – can you imagine?  There was also a flipping mangle for clothes laundering.  It never really caught on

Housemates with names that are other things: Bubble, Spiral, Science, Kitten.  Tells you all you need to know about a person who isn’t a famous rapper before they even open their mouths

So, we’ve got a lot of history here.  While my friends are birthing babies and planning weddings, I am churning out thousands of words about a commonly derided reality TV format.  This is because Big Brother has been there in the background of our lives for a long time.  In recent times, I have been able to Sky Plus each episode, catching up in disgraceful binges if I’ve been on holiday during a run, or fast forwarding the eviction interviews I don’t care about.  But I can recall watching earlier series, recorded on a VCR I bought from John Lewis with my Waitrose weekend job money, wall-mounted in my childhood bedroom with my flatscreen, deep-back telly, setting the timer better than my dad ever could to watch it while sitting on my futon after going to the pub with the Venture Scouts, sweating everywhere due to summer heat and shut windows, my one safeguard against the midges that plagued my childhood (because I grew up next to a pond yeah).

Big Brother is now older than I was when I first started watching it.  My parents have spurned the Express, as have thousands of other readers, but the Telegraph’s nonsense still comes on a daily basis (not that I touch it).  They don’t watch Big Brother (my mum said she wouldn’t even come to my eviction if I went on it, which I wouldn’t), so I can’t pretend the show has opened their minds, but I like to think that, over the years, a now-tacky reality format has challenged millions of viewers’ perceptions.  Through voyeurism, they’ve been able to observe an element of truth about another Brit who would otherwise have remained a misunderstood entity.  Even if that truth is an argument about the washing up.