As I slipped in to my leopard print onesie, I was thoroughly disappointed that The Andrew Stone show had been cancelled, and had to adjust my set to Come Bitch With Me instead.
Big Bro loves to put the cat amongst the pigeons, and last night was no exception. Poor old Georgia, she barely had time to sneak off with Kirk for a celebratory snog when she was called to the dairy room to choose two of her fellow housemates to face the public vote this Friday. She spat out Natasha and Nicola's name faster than one of those blonde twins spat out that porridge. Queue he fake hugs and repeats of 'Don't worry hun its fine, honestly.' Yeah, it's about as fine as Andrew Stone is after being evicted; hope someone is watching him during the night.
Truths come out in the BB house quicker than Ryan Gigg's moves on to his next brunette bombshell, and last night saw Georgia, like totally find out that like, Nicola had said mean things about her. OMFG! Like a scene from Mean Girls, the killer looks shot across the living room as Georgia struggled to accept the fact that she does actually have nothing about her apart from her legs, lashes and knowing what Calum Best is really like in the sack. Nicola is a born liar and a huge coward, I mean what does she actually do apart from display her sagging boob job and have her picture taken with Peter Andre for OK! Magazine?
I've obviously been watching Natalie Cassidy too long as my inner biatch is coming to the surface, as last night she said how the twins were pretty, but she has seen prettier girls. In my opinion she is speaking the truth, but it fascinates me how women put each other down and slyly slag each other off, but then wrap their arms around one another to seal the bond of womanhood.
Kirk continues his charm offensive on Georgia, but after having the Best surely nothing can ever compare. He offered to take her on a date, complimented her legs and then pointed that her boob was hanging out; my heart is skipping a beat Georgia and if you don't get in there then I sure as hell will. I fancy a night out down the Sugarhut with Essex's biggest daddy's boy.
Before Michael and Denise's bust up I asked myself 'what on earth could Hollywood's bad boy and the UK's loosest women possibly argue about?' My money was on Michael admitting he had seen Loose Women and asking Denise if they ever have buckets on hand in case the women get too loose. But alas they just had the world's most pathetic argument and both went to bed angry like a couple in a sexless marriage, or Ryan Giggs and his wife to you and me.
I'm off for a tidy round as since I started watching the show my bedroom has started to resemble the housemates; no, not garish and full of egos, but a right old mess.
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