F*ck Big Brother and all that watch it.

Perhaps I could get interested if I knew that the winner would have a percentage chance, however small, of ending up like Jade Goody.
Sorry. I don't think that I mean that. But please.
Perhaps the oxygen supply could be limited. Dependant on the contestants having to engage in meaningful conversations. Or each time inanity prevailed they would spend time in solitude only able to rejoin the group once reasonably routine mathematical puzzles have been completed. I would happily watch the latest vacuous bleach blond bubble headed twenty something die of old age clutching an old crumpled Maths paper to her silicon leaking south facing chest, her last words a mumbled "... so if John had ten apples and Jane took two away how many drinks would he buy me"?
Darwin. Huxley. Big Brother is eugenicist propaganda.
Celebrity. The goal and not a byproduct of talent or achievement. Famous for being famous for fifteen minutes. Hungry for footballer cock. Not to mention the women...