The northlondonhippy

Archive for the ‘offensive’ Category

Dig it, fuckers!

The hippy’s here to let you all in on a lit­tle secret about my favourite dig­i­tal tele­vi­sion plat­form, the satel­lite sys­tem, SKY television.

In the inter­est of full dis­clo­sure, I’ve been a SKY sub­scriber for years and I’ve had a SKY+ box (a hard drive-based PVR) for over 3 years. I adore SKY+ and it’s a fan­tas­tic piece of kit that I would rec­om­mend to any­one who enjoys watch­ing TV.

SKY is part of News­Corp, which is owned by the “bil­lion­aire tyrant”, Rupert Mur­doch. He’s a media baron; he owns lots of stuff, from The Sun news­pa­per here in the UK, to Fox News in the states and a whole lot in-between.

SKY pro­vide some chan­nels of their own as well as the plat­form for other com­pa­nies to run chan­nels via their satel­lite sys­tem, so they don’t pro­duce all of the con­tent that streams into my home. I want to make that clear; any­one with enough dosh can rent a spot in the elec­tronic pro­gramme guide (EPG) on SKY and broad­cast a chan­nel, though I would expect SKY ulti­mately have the right to decline for what­ever rea­son they see fit.

If you have SKY, you may have dis­cov­ered that there are lots of adult chan­nels on the EPG, num­bered from chan­nel 900 upwards. Many of these chan­nels are sub­scrip­tion based or pay-per-view, but a grow­ing num­ber of them are broad­cast “in the clear”, with no encryp­tion or sub­scrip­tion required.

What I’m talk­ing about are a spe­cific type of adult-oriented chan­nel, I’ve dubbed “babe channels.”

“Babe chan­nels” are quite a sim­ple con­cept; so sim­ple in fact that I wish I’d come up with it myself. They started a few years ago, late at night, for a few hours on chan­nels which showed other pro­gram­ming dur­ing the day, but since then they have exploded in popularity.

Here’s the basic premise; a scant­ily clad woman (or women as you will dis­cover), writhes around on-screen, with a tele­phone in her hand. You’re invited to ring an expen­sive pre­mium rate num­ber for a chance to speak to this scant­ily clad young lady and mas­tur­bate furi­ously while watch­ing and chatting.

I’m spec­u­lat­ing about the mas­tur­ba­tion; but I think it’s a pretty damn good guess; every­thing else is as you see it on TV.

What they don’t tell you is that for your £1.50 a minute, you most likely won’t get to speak to the babe on-screen, but one of the hun­dreds of off-screen tele­phon­ists, ready to lis­ten to your sick, twisted desires.

As the pop­u­lar­ity (and prof­itabil­ity) of these chan­nels grew, so did their num­bers and soon there were many of them dot­ted around the SKY EPG. When SKY re-organised the EPG and put all the naughty chan­nels in the 900s, many of these sta­tions re-branded them­selves as full time “babe chan­nels”. There’s “Babecast” and “Babe­World”; “Babesta­tion” and a host of others.

As you might expect, com­pe­ti­tion for your £1.50 a minute has become intense and in the face of that, these chan­nels have had to adapt. By adapt, of course I mean become more explicit and after 11pm, the fun really starts!

You don’t get just one woman on-screen, but groups of them now and instead of scant­ily clad, you get top­less or fully nude. And some­times you don’t just get fully nude, but shaven too.

The women snog each other as well as sim­u­lat­ing acts of a sex­ual nature; there’s nip­ple suck­ing, crotch lick­ing and dil­dos are pop­u­lar props as well, espe­cially as sub­sti­tutes for lol­ly­pops. To illus­trate; “Babe­World” becomes “Babe­World Extreme” after 11pm; in name and action!

As you can tell, I’ve done a bit of research into the sub­ject, though I haven’t gone as far as ring any of the chan­nels. This hippy doesn’t have a research bud­get for any­thing other than drugs! Sex should be free!

These chan­nels are so lucra­tive that sev­eral of them broad­cast all day and one of them has even started broad­cast­ing 24-hours a day! Ka-fucking-ching!

The day­time ver­sions are rel­a­tively tame, with lots of flashes of cleav­age, stock­ings and knick­ers and are actu­ally quite amus­ing. One chan­nel called “Turn On TV” alter­na­tives between 2 themes, each one for a week.

This week, it’s “Call the Office”, which con­sists of 8 hours of con­tin­u­ous live cov­er­age of two women sit­ting in front of office desks. They dress like sexy sec­re­taries; short skirts, low-cut blouses, while giv­ing the cam­era coy, come-hither looks, implor­ing view­ers to ring them.

There’s actu­ally a cer­tain air of des­per­a­tion on these chan­nels dur­ing the day, as the phone calls don’t come in as fre­quently and the women occa­sion­ally beg for callers.

The other theme is slightly more fetishist, as the set is dressed like a doctor’s surgery and the two women dress as sexy nurses. This one is called the “Naughty Nurse”. Imag­i­na­tive, eh?

I’m not try­ing to come over all moral­is­tic about this, as I’ve said, I wish I thought of it. Lots of peo­ple are get­ting very rich off the back of these chan­nels and I wish I were one of them.

And I’m not hav­ing a moan about kids being able to see these chan­nels, because if you have chil­dren and you have SKY, you’ve prob­a­bly fig­ured out how to lock these chan­nels out of your EPG and pin pro­tect them. If you haven’t, then you’re prob­a­bly just a crap parent.

No, I’m writ­ing about this because I find it inter­est­ing, fas­ci­nat­ing really.

The fur­ther we all travel into the future, the more iso­lat­ing tech­nol­ogy becomes.

It used to be that if you wanted to chat to a pretty girl in her under­wear, you had to go to a bar or club, chat her up, con­vince her to come back to your place, and then sweet talk her into shed­ding her cloth­ing. Today, all you need is a tele­phone, a tele­vi­sion and £1.50 a minute.

How lonely do you have to be to ring one of these chan­nels just to have some con­tact, how­ever dis­tant with the women on screen or one of her off-screen helpers?

How des­per­ate for sex­ual release do you need to become before you’re reach­ing for the phone and dialling that pre­mium rate num­ber, one handed?

I don’t hon­estly know, as it’s one gut­ter I’ve never vis­ited. But as an observer of the human con­di­tion, it’s a ques­tion I’m posing.

What I can tell you is there must be loads of peo­ple (men and women) who must need these chan­nels, or they wouldn’t have grown into such a big busi­ness, so fast.

What does it say about us?

What does it say about our soci­ety that these “babe chan­nels” are flourishing?

Sim­ple, that our lives are mean­ing­less and empty.

You have a nice day, now!

Alas poor Nikki, I knew her well.

I’ve made no secret that Nikki Gra­hame was one of my favourites from this series of Big Brother. While I am sorry to see her out of the house this week, her evic­tion was a nec­es­sary evil. It was sim­ply her time.

The alter­na­tive would have been to see Ais­leyne Horgan-Wallace depart and this week, she didn’t deserve that fate.

Ais­leyne has had a really rough ride in both houses and we’ve seen real emo­tion from her recently. Also, I think there is a deeper attrac­tion between Ais­leyne and Pete Ben­nett than Pete and any other woman in there. Let’s let it develop.

But the main rea­son Nikki had to go this week was this: to give that vile rule-breaking slob, Jayne Kitt a mas­sive slap in the face.

Aside from the fact Jayne is respon­si­ble for dar­lin’ Nikki’s evic­tion, Jayne’s sins and trans­gres­sions in the house have been vast.

Nikki wouldn’t have been nom­i­nated this week if it was the nor­mal nom­i­na­tion process, so I see it as 100% Jayne’s fault.

Jayne is obnox­ious, annoy­ing and com­pletely unpleas­ant, as well as being a very uncon­vinc­ing liar.

You might have gath­ered that I really don’t like her.

You’re right, I really don’t. And that’s just how Ende­mol wants it.

I’m sure her spilling the beans regard­ing the out­side world is piss­ing them off behind the scenes, it remains unlikely they are going to make her walk out the back door.

Oh no, they are going to grit their col­lec­tive teeth until next Fri­day, when they can evict her prop­erly, regard­less of how much she reveals.

Why?

Sim­ple.

Think of the rev­enue they will make from the tele­phone and text voting!

Jayne is becom­ing such a fig­ure of hatred that I will cau­tiously pre­dict she will have the most votes cast against her than any other BB house­mate in the his­tory of the series.

And you know some­thing; I don’t blame Ende­mol at all for doing it. Some­one should ben­e­fit some­how from her brief stay in the house!

How am I so sure that Jayne will be up for evic­tion next week?

How can you doubt it? She’s already cost the house their lux­ury shop­ping bud­get, their access to hot water and now sweet, crazy lit­tle Nikki!

Cer­tainly the major­ity of the remain­ing house­mates will nom­i­nate her. Wouldn’t you if you couldn’t smoke a cig­a­rette, drink some wine or eat any­thing other than rice, pasta and lentils?

I sure as hell would!

And I might even pull my dialling fin­ger out of the moth­balls and cast a few votes for her myself, not that I’ll need to because I can’t imag­ine who­ever she came up against being despised more!

The only pos­si­ble rival for evic­tion being Glen “Spi­ral” Coro­ner, because he’s just so creepy and inspires so much dis­com­fort. There are uncon­firmed rumours that more has gone on with him in the house than we have been allowed to see in the high­lights. I’ll say no more.

Instead I’ll say this:

Get Jayne out!

And bring back my lit­tle Nikki!

To me, Nikki is a star; a real discovery.

She’s pro­vided more com­edy moments than any­one this year. She’s a pocket-sized dynamo of emo­tion and angst, adorably cute and wor­ry­ingly volatile at the same time.

A strong char­ac­ter like Nikki was bound to have fans and detrac­tors, but no one can argue that she ‘s been a cen­tral fig­ure in the house.

Whether you love her or hate her, I’m sure you watched her antics with slack jawed won­der; my own mandible hit the car­pet on more than one occasion!

We haven’t seen the last of Nikki, oh no. Watch out Jade and Chantelle! There’s a new blonde real­ity star on the rise!

I’d give Nikki a series in a sec­ond and the pitch would be piss-easy.

How about a British ver­sion of “The Sim­ple Life”? Could you imag­ine Nikki being told she had to milk a cow or slaugh­ter a baby lamb! Just wind her up and let the hilar­ity ensue.

Or how about “Nikki on the Couch”?

It would be a thirty-minute sit­com con­sist­ing of Nikki vis­it­ing her psy­chi­a­trist to talk about her week. It would be great, maybe we could get Ricky Ger­vais to play the doc­tor. You can pic­ture him mug­ging for the cam­eras as Nikki goes into one, can’t you? And we could have a dif­fer­ent recep­tion­ist every week, like a run­ning gag. Lea Walker could do the pilot.

And you all must be won­der­ing why I don’t have my own tele­vi­sion chan­nel? I’m a media genius!

And now for the threat­ened ran­dom obser­va­tions and other assorted bits and bobs that I’ve been mean­ing to mention.

I’ll start with one big let-down for this hippy last Fri­day night dur­ing the live evic­tion. I was wait­ing all week for Davina to read out all of the names of the house­mates prior to announc­ing who goes. It’s usu­ally a very excit­ing moment.

This time, it was a limp, damp, dis­ap­point­ing squib.

Instead of doing it prop­erly and allow­ing the crowd reac­tions to cause mas­sive ruc­tions in the house, they copped out and sim­ply said, “All house­mates except Jayne, you are up for evic­tion.” It was the coward’s way out!

Here’s another one, have you noticed that the only peo­ple in the house who have con­sis­tently used the “c-word” have all been women?

How do I know it’s the “c-word”?

Sim­ple, near as I can tell, it’s the only naughty word that they won’t broad­cast after the watershed.

I found it fan­tas­ti­cally amus­ing that this par­tic­u­lar word has slipped out twice; both times dur­ing the live Fri­day night evic­tions and on both occa­sions, from the same bizarrely buxom housemate.

Ok, I’m talk­ing about Lea and the word in ques­tion is “cunt”.

Is it a word you haven’t come across before?

Did it burn your eyes just read­ing it? Does it harm your ears when you hear it?

Does it under­mine your moral­ity and lessen your spirit every time it passes over someone’s lips?

I didn’t think so.

It is just word. We give it the power to offend.

And guess what? We can take that power away as well.

For starters, stop bleep­ing it. We all know what it is any­way. The con­text gives it away.

It’s an old word; it’s been in com­mon usage for years. There even used to be a street in Lon­don whose name included that word.

If that word does offend you, then what the hell are you doing read­ing my blog? And I wouldn’t watch the tv series “Dead­wood” either.

You could always phone Chan­nel 4 or write to them. They won’t pay atten­tion to your spe­cific com­plaint, but you will get a per­son­alised reply.

If your let­ter or phonecall is par­tic­u­larly amus­ing or crazy, it will be for­warded around their Horse­ferry Road HQ like mad for sheer enter­tain­ment value.

If it is a real humdinger, it might end up in the Holy Moly mailout!

Broad­cast­ers aren’t so much inter­ested in par­tic­u­lar com­plaints, as much as they are inter­ested in trends. I’d guess that they had very few com­plaints over the acci­den­tal “c-word” slip-ups, barely enough for them to really register.

Raise your hand if you’ve seen the Imo­gen Thomas sex video?

Just me, then.

Well, come on, I had to screen it, in the inter­ests of being bet­ter informed so that I may write my BB col­umn from an edu­cated perspective.

Ah-hem.

If you do want to see it, you can find it if you look hard enough. No link from me this time.

If you haven’t seen it, don’t bother; it’s not wor­thy of your valu­able view­ing time. Aside from the fact that the script was weak, the story a bit thin and the pro­duc­tion val­ues quite low, it was really dull.

Imo­gen? Dull? Why I never…

If you do get to see it, like me you will prob­a­bly spend most of your view­ing time try­ing to work out if it is really Imogen.

The qual­ity of the pic­ture is rub­bish mobile phone video and it must be a year or three old, because Imo­gen looks a bit younger.

It really wasn’t until I heard her speak and only then did I start think­ing it might be Imogen.

The video is explicit, fea­tur­ing close-ups and every­thing. The sex is fairly vanilla, though some­what ener­getic. Watch­ing it made me feel a bit dirty and not in a good way.

A word of warn­ing to all of you out there: Any­thing you film these days, espe­cially if it’s dig­i­tal, is going to find it’s way onto the inter­net. You only need to visit YouTube and have a ran­dom poke around to see what I mean.

If you don’t want this hippy, along with mil­lions of other peo­ple around the world watch­ing you do some­thing you don’t want us to see, just don’t film it.

“Oh baby, it will just be for me, I’ll erase it later” is a lie on a par with “the cheque is in the post” and “I won’t cum in your mouth”.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Cor­rect me if I’m wrong, but when they showed Davina drag­ging Nikki out of the house on the Sat­ur­day night high­lights, it was the first time ever Davina made an appear­ance in the high­lights show.

You may have noticed that the high­lights pro­grammes limit our per­spec­tive to what can only be seen from within the house.

Think about when they replay the evic­tion on the Sat­ur­day night high­lights show, you only see the depart­ing house­mate from inside the house.

What you never get is the reverse angle of the evicted HM walk­ing out the door and into the crowd.

Since you could see Davina from the per­spec­tive of the house, it was only nat­ural for us to catch a glimpse of her at the top of the stairs.

Well, I thought it was cool.

And you ‘re think­ing, “Hippy… You anorak!”

Nikki’s evic­tion was, in the words of my younger brother, “dis­tress­ing to watch”, espe­cially when she wouldn’t walk out the door of the house. The com­bi­na­tion of unbri­dled angst and over­whelm­ingly fear that was appar­ent from the look on her face made me feel sad.

Watch­ing Nikki’s evic­tion inter­view was like rid­ing on a roller coaster of her emo­tions. She was up and down more than the lifts in Canary Wharf on a week­day! I thought Davina han­dled it with sen­si­tiv­ity and I think she had gen­uine affec­tion for Nikki.

I did too, I really liked Nikki.

Nikki, if you hap­pen to stum­ble upon my blog when you Google your­self, as you invari­ably will (don’t worry, every­one Google’s them­selves, you won’t go blind), know that you had one crazy middle-aged hippy in north Lon­don, who spent two entire months being com­pletely enter­tained by you.

And if you’re inter­ested in pur­su­ing any of my ideas for those tv series fur­ther, have your peo­ple call my peo­ple and we can do lunch! I’ll have to get some peo­ple first, but it’s on my list of things to do this week.

Remem­ber, I came here today not to bury Nikki, but to praise her!

I trust you are all wear­ing your fin­gers down to a stub, hit­ting redial repeat­edly as you vote to get Grace Adams-Short out.

As BB vil­lains go, she is cer­tainly doing all she can to engen­der the hatred of the Great British Pub­lic. Her bul­ly­ing and back­stab­bing is a won­der to behold. But the best part of it by far is her com­plete lack of aware­ness as to why she is so disliked.

I touched on this in my pre­vi­ous BB entry, how the chant­ing of “Get Grace out” last Fri­day will be seen as one of the defin­ing moments of BB7.

I’ve actu­ally been think­ing about how that all came about and I’m fairly cer­tain it was an inten­tional deci­sion the part of the pro­duc­ers to allow the house to hear the chanting.

How so?

Sim­ple, remem­ber what was actu­ally going on dur­ing this sequence.

Davina handed over to Big Brother and we cut to the gar­den. Aside from the micro­phone feeds from the house­mates, the only other live mic at that point would have been BB’s. And we all know that BB broad­casts from a sound-proofed booth

In other words, the only micro­phone out­side with the crowd was Davina’s and that would have been switched off.

This means that BB opened yet another micro­phone out­side with the crowd and then mixed it into the house ON PURPOSE. From a pro­duc­tion point of view, it had to be a delib­er­ate, inten­tional move on their part.

Talk about Twisted Big Brother!

By this one sim­ple flick of a switch, they were able to increase the ten­sion this week as well as pro­vid­ing them with a juicier story to fol­low in the lead up to Friday.

I’m lov­ing their work!

Some may crit­i­cise the harsh­ness of these tac­tics, but not me. Since Evil BB5, I think it is Endemol’s duty to keep the house­mates as off-balance as pos­si­ble. Now that the twists are kick­ing in, it’s going to be fun viewing!

What really gets me about Grace, what really winds me up to no end, is that she doesn’t have a clue why she is despised.

Oh it must be the editing!

No, it’s her rela­tion­ship with Mikey “the dolt” Dalton.

It’s because she’s so beautiful!

Buzzzzzz! All wrong! Espe­cially that last one!

And when she dis­cov­ered that Susie nom­i­nated her, her reac­tion didn’t exhibit any of what her name sug­gests; instead she was pos­i­tively “graceless”.

Much like the house will be after 10pm tonight!

Her tirade against Susie, which she dragged Dar­ling Nikki (a wicked old Prince track as well!) into was just so unspeak­ably loath­some that when I watched it on the high­light pro­gramme I nearly gouged my own eyes out in disgust!

And it only got worse, as Grace per­formed two very sad “dances of des­per­a­tion”; one per­formed ver­ti­cally with the other house­mates and a sec­ond per­formed hor­i­zon­tally under the cov­ers with Mikey. Both were equally sad and tragic to watch.

It’s too late Grace; there will be no redemp­tion for you while you are inside the house!

The tabloids are all report­ing that Grace is even more unpop­u­lar than Sezer Yurt­seven. That’s an accom­plish­ment, as he was fairly hated by one and all.

The odds on Grace’s evic­tion have got­ten even worse than Sezer’s, accord­ing to the bookies.

One enter­pris­ing book­maker is even offer 100/1 odds that Grace will receive 100% of the pub­lic vote! I know that’s not pos­si­ble, as some peo­ple will vote for Nikki, though it would be fool­ish to throw your money away wast­ing your evic­tion call on the future footballer’s wife!

It won’t be fool­ish to vote for Grace. I worry that peo­ple will all think that the pub­lic hate her so much, that they don’t have to vote. Silly!

If every­one thinks that way, then no one will vote and we could be stuck with her for another week. We can’t allow that to happen!

So I’m count­ing on all of you out there in inter­net­land, well the British part of inter­net­land, to vote often and vote for Grace. I’ll be cast­ing a few votes of my own before tonight, so as always I’m not ask­ing you to do any­thing that I’m not will­ing to do myself

Vot­ing Grace out tonight will actu­ally be the best thing we as view­ers can do for her. I’m seri­ous. She needs a short, sharp shock to help her learn a valu­able life lesson.

Grace’s real crime is no crime at all; she is merely a casu­alty of her age and more specif­i­cally her own imma­tu­rity. She is remark­ably imma­ture; she is much younger than her years. And she doesn’t realise that either!

Tonight, with our help, Grace will be grow­ing up, very fast. And isn’t that the best thing for everyone?

PS.

I know I threat­ened with this last week, but this time I have it. You can watch high­lights of Lea Walker’s porn video RIGHT HERE.

It’s only been run­ning for just over three weeks, but BB7 has already estab­lished itself as a fix­ture here in Britain.

It seems like any­one you speak to has a far deeper knowl­edge of the com­ings and goings in a cer­tain small house in Elstree than they are com­fort­able admitting.

What’s wrong with being a Big Brother fan? Why are peo­ple so ret­i­cent to admit that they enjoy it? It’s not like you’re cop­ping to cook­ing and eat­ing small chil­dren for lunch! It’s only a game show!

Big Brother takes over the media for the dura­tion of its run and even if you despise watch­ing it, you’ll be hard pressed to escape its reach.

Chan­nel 4 broad­casts at least an hour of high­lights or more every evening. And it’s con­sis­tently more than 60 min­utes in length, they keep extend­ing it with­out updat­ing their sched­ules, which is wreak­ing absolute havoc with my SKY+ — the end­ing is cut off more nights than not!

And on Friday’s, the live evic­tion dou­ble bill is at least 90 minutes.

E4 broad­casts Big Brother’s Lit­tle Brother five times a week, (BBLB) and Big Brother’s Big Mouth four times a week (BBBM), each 30 min­utes in length. Plus there’s a new show this year called Big Brother’s Big Brain.

If you add up all of the already pack­aged pro­grammes, you come up with nearly 13 hours of view­ing a week! Now, that’s commitment!

Add to that the 24/7 avail­abil­ity of live stream­ing via the inter­ac­tive fea­tures of the magic red but­ton on dig­i­tal tv and you begin to get a pic­ture of just how much is there for you to watch. And enjoy. And obsess over!

It’s easy enough to avoid all of that pro­gram­ming, but even if you do, BB lurks in other media. Flip on your radio to any pop­u­lar music sta­tion and I promise you that BB will be men­tioned; in happy talk from the DJ or within their brief news bul­letins. It’s the same on satel­lite tv; news from the house becomes real news!

Open any tabloid or celebrity glossy mag­a­zine and again, gos­sip about the house­mates will be found through­out. The glossies, like Heat and other high­brow pub­li­ca­tions, will stick BB stars on their cov­ers for as long as they can.

Why? For the same rea­son the Daily Express finds a rea­son to put a story about Princess Diana on nearly every Mon­day edi­tion; because it sells!

So even if you casu­ally con­sume your media, you can­not escape know­ing that Pete Ben­nett is the one every­one thinks will win; Nikki Gra­ham is a spoilt brat, Lea Walker is a porn star and Glyn Wise is the Welsh “For­rest Gump”.

Ok, I came up with that last one myself, but don’t you think it’s accurate?

Glyn is being por­trayed, rightly or wrongly, as a coun­try bump­kin. I know he is only 18 years old, but could any­one really reach that age and not know the recipe for mak­ing a fuck­ing sand­wich? If that is true, I really do fear for the future of our planet!

And he’s the “head boy” in his 6th form, so just imag­ine what the dumb­est kid in his class must be like…probably sit­ting in a pool of his own excre­ment shout­ing “ee-eye-ee-eye-ooh” over and over again at no one in par­tic­u­lar; hop­ing one of the smarter kids might bring him one of those mirac­u­lous cre­ations known as the sandwich!

That all said, I do like Glyn, he is a real con­tender for sec­ond place; though any­thing can hap­pen and we can’t all be com­pla­cent that a Pete win is a dead cert. Who knows what twists may be com­ing next?

I was all ready to write a sting­ing crit­i­cism of the lack of teeth in the “Twisted Big Brother” billing this sea­son. Up to the intro­duc­tion of the Golden House­mate, I saw no real evi­dence of any twists. Friday’s live show turned that on it’s head and my lazi­ness and pro­cras­ti­na­tion pre­vented me from look­ing very fool­ish the day before they did this!

See, smok­ing dope does have its benefits!

And the heat­wave here in Lon­don isn’t help­ing, espe­cially in the tin­der­box that is my north Lon­don lair. I might have to rig up my Air­Con for the liv­ing room soon. It’s 30 god­damn degrees in my lounge!

I’m sure that’s why you came to my site today, to get the weather report in my liv­ing room! It’s partly smoky, with ris­ing humid­ity and the mer­cury is climb­ing! So is my blood pressure!

I thought the way they han­dled the Golden Ticket con­test was superb. I’m not going to spend much time on the con­spir­acy the­ory behind the selec­tion of the win­ner; per­son­ally I do think it was ran­dom, albeit good luck that some­one so telegenic was selected. That’s hip­py­code­s­peak for a hot MILF!

When Davina pro­vided the mini-introductions for all 34 poten­tial Golden House­mates, it seemed to me that the major­ity of them had media con­nec­tions and/or had try to audi­tion their way on to BB in the past. If that’s true, then it only makes sense that the one selected would have a higher chance of fit­ting either of those descriptions.

As I’ve said before, it takes a cer­tain kind of indi­vid­ual to want to destroy their lives on real­ity television…it takes some­one with a screw loose! It takes a scream­ing crazy wannabe!

What I thought was excit­ing on Fri­day was the moment of rev­e­la­tion as Ais­leyne Horgan-Wallace read out the instruc­tions to the house­mates and then they showed all 34 Golden Ticket win­ners to them on the plasma screen. I think it could be one of the defin­ing moments of this series.

Not just because it was a brave depar­ture for BB, break­ing the fourth wall INTO the house and giv­ing them a look out­side, but because of what was over­heard from the bay­ing crowd.

“Get Grace out! Get Grace out!”

How cool was that? Grace Adams-Short is com­pletely deserv­ing of this pub­lic scorn, she has earned it with her vile atti­tude and school bully tac­tics. She’s pure poison!

What’s even fun­nier is she thinks it’s down to her canoodling with that vacant dolt, Mikey Dal­ton. He’s dull, he’s dumb and I can hardly under­stand a word he says, er mum­bles. Watch him sail under the radar straight through until the final week.

I think there’s a good chance Grace will be nom­i­nated this week, as the Golden House­mate is the only one nom­i­nat­ing and peo­ple who know her say she’s been watch­ing the show and can’t stand Grace.

I’m ready to vote, vote, vote if Grace is up and I urge you to do the same. We got rid of Sezer Yurt­seven, let’s leave noth­ing to chance!

And now on to the “des­per­ate house­wife” men­tioned in the title. No, I don’t mean the ABC/C4 series; I am of course refer­ring to the new Golden House­mate, Suzie Verrico.

Suzie, a 43-year-old house­wife and strip­per from Kent has been try­ing to get into the house for years. She’s audi­tioned at least 3 times and was a standby con­tes­tant for a pre­vi­ous series. Again, so what? Des­per­ate wannabes are per­sis­tent, espe­cially when they are house­wives with rich husbands!

Suzie’s hubby bought 60 cases of KitKat choco­lates search­ing for a Golden Ticket. When that failed, he picked one up on eBay for a cool four grand. Now that’s love!

Though I did see a great the­ory on the DS:BB forum that said he did it to get rid of her for a few months, so he could live that wild des­per­ate hus­band lifestyle full of hard drugs and hook­ers, with total impunity, know­ing his mis­sus was safely locked up under the watch­ful eye of one hun­dred video­cam­eras and the entire nation! That would be the ulti­mate in dis­creet planning!

Suzie admits to a boob job (which seems to be a pre­req­ui­site for entry into the house this year!), but denies hav­ing any work on her face. From my per­spec­tive, her nose, lips and cheek­bones look a lit­tle too good to be true, but what do I know!

Yes, she’s a hot­tie and she’s put Lea’s nose right out of joint, espe­cially because she’s 8 years older than Lea, but looks much younger!

Suzie doesn’t realise yet that being the Golden House­mate isn’t going to be fun. They already have her sleep­ing in a drafty, tiny cup­board that they have named the Golden Bed­room. She also doesn’t know that her nom­i­na­tions will be the only ones that count this week and Davina hinted that more unpleas­ant­ness is to fol­low later in the week. I won­der if they will force Glyn to admin­is­ter the daily golden shower?

It looks like Twisted BB may finally live up to the hype! It’s about time!

Thanks to every­one who voted to get rid of Sam Brodie last week. I didn’t hate her, I just thought she was dull, whereas Nikki Gra­ham is eas­ily one of my favourites and every sec­ond she is on-screen is pure com­edy gold!

No, I wouldn’t want Nikki as my flat­mate or girl­friend or any­thing, I think she could prob­a­bly drive me to an early grave quite quickly, but as some­one else’s prob­lem, she’s first class view­ing! Please keep her in as long as possible!

I felt gen­uine sorry for Glyn when he cried real tears over Sam’s depar­ture. I think he was actu­ally very upset; he really is a sen­si­tive young man!

I was going to pro­vide a treat for my beloved hip­py­fans, though with a dis­claimer: If you are under 18 or have a weak dis­po­si­tion, please do NOT click on the fol­low­ing link to Lea Walker’s porn video…

But the link went away and it’s no longer on the pirate host!

If you have seen the clip and I’m sure many of you have, then my lit­tle BB themed joke will make sense:

What do a KitKat wrap­per and Lea Walker have in common?

They both have four fin­gers inside them!

I never said it was in good taste! I won­der if that’s the kind of pub­lic­ity the KitKat peo­ple want?

Like the title says, I’ve been think­ing about the ques­tions that will never have answers; I’ve been pon­der­ing the imponderable.

What do I mean, exactly?

What I mean is sim­ple: I’ve been think­ing about the stuff that we, and I mean humans, earth­lings, what­ever you would like to call us in the col­lec­tive “we”, will never ever know the answers to such sim­ple ques­tions as:

“Why are we here?”

“Where did the uni­verse come from?”

And more importantly…

“Do good hip­pies from north Lon­don go to heaven?”

Ok, I can answer that third ques­tion myself.

Hip­pies from north Lon­don, just like every other liv­ing crea­ture, just cease to exist when we die.

There is no heaven.

Any­one who claims oth­er­wise is quite frankly, full of shit.

Any­one who claims to the know the answers to the first two ques­tions is, espe­cially if they answer them with some sort of reli­gious mumbo-jumbo, also full of the same shit.

I’m smarter than all of those believ­ers, because I know that I will never know the answers to those first 2 ques­tions and fur­ther more, I’m very cer­tain that no one who is alive today or any­one that is born in the future will be able to answer them either.

That’s one of the things that makes me smarter than many peo­ple; I know there’s a lot more that I don’t know, than I do. No mat­ter how old I get, that will always be true.

I don’t know why we’re here, not for sure. No one ever really could.
If pushed for an answer, I would sur­mise that we’re here for no par­tic­u­lar rea­son, we just are. I take com­fort in that rather bleak assess­ment, because it is so lib­er­at­ingly honest.

I’m point­less; we all are.

We, the col­lec­tive we again, don’t serve a sin­gle pur­pose, unless the rap­ing and pil­lag­ing of the planet, and each other is our pur­pose, in which case we are kick­ing some seri­ous ass!

We add noth­ing to the uni­verse at large.

We may do things that enrich the lives of oth­ers, or our­selves, but that doesn’t ben­e­fit all of exis­tence, does it?

I can appre­ci­ate a Van Gogh paint­ing as much as the next guy, or a great song or a well-made film, but so what? Our lives and the lives of even the impor­tant, tal­ented and cel­e­brated of our species don’t mean shit in the con­text of the universe.

Life on our planet has only been around for a blink of an eye in cos­mo­log­i­cal terms. Intel­li­gent life has been around for a frac­tion of a frac­tion of that blink.

And by “intel­li­gent life”, I mean us and yes, I am using the term very loosely in this context.

In the scheme of the uni­verse, we are all noth­ing but flot­sam and jet­sam, or as Kansas once put it so suc­cinctly; “We are all just dust in the wind.”

How does it feel, hav­ing me tell you that you don’t mat­ter; that no one mat­ters? Do you hate me for speak­ing the truth so plainly?

If Jesus’s mes­sage were bleak as mine, would any­one still be fol­low­ing him today?

Where’s the hope, hippy? Where’s the hope?

I’m com­ing to that, because of course, my mes­sage actu­ally is, one of hope.

As I sit at my desk, in the mid­dle of the night, strug­gling to keep my eyes open and my brain engaged, I think about these things. I don’t know why we are here and it dri­ves me insane that I will never have the answers I seek.

I could seek them in reli­gion, for many peo­ple find com­fort in the fairy sto­ries offered by the major and minor reli­gions of our world.

But I won’t, I can’t; I’m not will­ing to accept the delu­sions of oth­ers mas­querad­ing as fact.

Think about your reli­gion if you have one, then apply some sim­ple log­i­cal think­ing to it and then ask your­self this ques­tion: Does it sound like some­thing made up by peo­ple for peo­ple, or by a god for people.

Every­thing I know about reli­gion smacks of man. Men invented all of the fables we are sold as fact. And I’m being very gen­der spe­cific in this ref­er­ence, because men are respon­si­ble for most, if not all that is fucked with our earthly existence.

Reli­gion, all reli­gion, was invented to keep peo­ple in line. If you don’t do what the bible says, god’s gonna get ya! He’s gonna get you but good!

Bull­shit!

Look up to the heav­ens right now and say the fol­low­ing out loud:

“Hey, god. Yes, you god. It’s me, the hippy (use your own name, dummy). You know, the one from north Lon­don (and use your own loca­tion!). You know what I think, god? You wanna know what I think?

I think you are a right fuck­ing cunt.”

Don’t worry; I’ve done this myself. Many times; often with an audience.

Actu­ally, it’s always bet­ter with an audi­ence and my dream is to one day be on a stage, deliv­er­ing a lec­ture or speech (upon accept­ing my sec­ond Pulitzer prize I hope), when I utter those offen­sive words, shout them really loud.

And then I sud­denly drop dead of a heart attack, live on stage!

Wouldn’t that just put the fear of our imag­i­nary god into everyone!

Hey, if I’m wrong and there is a god, I bet I get that sec­ond Pulitzer. He’ll do it just to show he’s got a sense of humour.

The point of this lit­tle oral exer­cise is a sim­ple one, to prove that god, whether he exists or not, doesn’t give a shit what you say or do.

Peo­ple do really get away with mur­der in this world and there never is divine retribution.

There is no god in my opin­ion, but if there were, he would be noth­ing like the way you pic­ture him. You couldn’t ever pic­ture him, because his form, shape, being, what­ever you would want to call it, is beyond the capa­bil­i­ties of the tiny lit­tle meat-based com­puter in your head.

Here’s the thing, if I’m telling you we won’t know the answers to any of these ques­tions, ever, then how can I be so sure there is no heaven? Isn’t that a hubris­tic contradiction?

Nope. Guess again.

There is no heaven. Heaven is an inven­tion of men; it doesn’t exist; it couldn’t pos­si­bly. You need to ask the right question.

Is there an afterlife?

Maybe, but I highly doubt it. It’s awfully unlikely, don’t you think?

Has any­one seen one shred of gen­uine evi­dence that our minds con­tinue on after our bod­ies die?

Notice I didn’t say “spirit” or “soul” because again, these are false con­cepts cre­ated by men.

I would love for some­one to prove that there is some form of life after death, but I think I have a bet­ter chance of those super-duper boffins com­ing up with a way to down­load my mind into a supercomputer.

And by the way, where can I sign up for that? I’d love to be hard­ware based, as long as I had a vir­tual tongue and cock, I’d be all set for eter­nity! And bring on the vir­tual spliffs!

Believ­ing in any of this requires some­thing I decid­edly lack and that’s faith. I have no faith, not in god, not in any­one else, not even in myself. Hey ho.

But where’s the hope?

I’m get­ting to it right now. Hope comes from free choice and free will.

You have the choice between being a decent per­son and being a bas­tard or bitch. You have the choice on how you view the world and how it views you. You alone have the abil­ity, the con­trol to choose a direc­tion for your existence.

We all do.

It doesn’t mat­ter who you are or where you are on the face of this planet, you can choose to do good and be good in every­thing you do.

I don’t care if you are the rich­est or the poor­est, the tallest or the short­est; the colour of your skin doesn’t mat­ter either; nor does the shape of your gen­i­tals, it all makes no dif­fer­ence.
In your own way, in your own life, you can choose to be a force of good.

Ok, tell me that is not hope­ful. Tell me that’s not life affirming!

Think about it; let it sink in, really deep.

In your every thought, your every action, you can strive to bring some­thing pos­i­tive to this world for the sim­ple, sat­is­fy­ing rea­son that it’s your choice to make!

Imag­ine if this was the “Ser­mon on the Mount” or if we could replace the “Ten Com­mand­ments” with this sim­ple approach.

Imag­ine if you heard this sim­ple mes­sage every day from when you were young. Imag­ine if we all did. What a won­der­ful world this would be and yes, Sam Cooke said that first.

Threats from god don’t stop peo­ple from lying, cheat­ing, steal­ing, killing or cov­et­ing thy neighbour’s wife, but my phi­los­o­phy might.

Do “good” because you can. Choose “good”, because there is really is no other choice; be good because it’s the right thing to do!

Imag­ine if every­one thought this way. We might actu­ally be able to turn things around before it’s too late.

We might be able to reverse global warm­ing, sort out all inter­na­tional con­flicts, ban­ish poverty, famine, dis­ease, small-mindedness and the stu­pid, point­less pro­hi­bi­tion on weed!

A hippy can dream.

So you see, I know it took some time, but we reached the hope­ful bit. Now, the rest is up to all of you.

Believe in your­selves, even if you have no faith.

Know that you are just as val­ued in the uni­verse as any­one else on the planet, no more and more impor­tantly, no less. Live your life as if oth­ers mat­ter; we share this planet.

In every­thing you say, every­thing you do, strive for there to be a ben­e­fit. Give more than you take, always.

Choose to be good, choose to do “good”, because the choice is yours alone to make. It’s what really sep­a­rates from the animals.

You see, that tagline at the top of your browser isn’t an idle boast. I truly am a mes­siah for the new millennium.

I think I’m ready for a spliff. I’ve earned it! Catch ya next time!

My bong is still up for grabs. Go on, try to grab it while you can! Click here for details.

Hey ho hip­py­fans! How the hell are you?

You know, my Black Ice bong is still sit­ting here, wait­ing to be won by one lucky hip­py­fan. Get your act together, send me your entry! Time is run­ning out!

You’ll notice I’m not refer­ring to you all as “fuck­ers” today, as my younger brother has said that per­haps my lib­eral use of this some­what naughty word might be offend­ing some of my poten­tial hippyfans.

If it has caused any­one any offence, you have my most sin­cere apolo­gies. My use of the word “fuck­ers” was meant to be com­pli­men­tary, as in I was mak­ing the assump­tion that you were all get­ting some; and often!

So from now on, I’m going to refer to you all as “celi­bates”, which I’m sure won’t offend any­one, unless you’re proud of your pro­lific sex­ual activ­ity, in which case I offer YOU my most sin­cere apologies.

You see, that’s the thing, no mat­ter what I say, and if it has any sort of opin­ion con­tained within it, it’s bound to offend some­one. For me, I’d much rather be up front about it and let you know where you stand with me from the start. I know this hippy and his “spe­cial brand of dri­vel” ain’t for every­one and I am pro­foundly cool with that.

My blog is the one place in the world where I can express myself fully and with­out any sort of self-censorship. I can share my rather strong and rabidly lib­eral opin­ions with the wider world with com­plete freedom.

That’s because nobody care’s much about the rav­ings of one mad hippy from north London.

Except you. You care. You must care, or you wouldn’t still be read­ing this, would you?

You care because you all are intel­li­gent enough to recog­nise that I am the “one true genius of the 21st cen­tury”; you are clever enough to see that I’m “a mes­siah for the new millennium”.

“I’m the biggest inter­net celebrity you’ve never heard of…but not for long.” The main­stream media is poised to dis­cover me any sec­ond now. They’ll all drop to their knees and beg me to con­tribute to their tra­di­tional media world for bucket-loads of cash and lash­ings of crit­i­cal acclaim!

Or maybe just a lash­ing. Who can really say?

The real world media doesn’t know what it’s miss­ing out on by con­tin­u­ing to ignore me. I’ve got the real world cre­den­tials to be a liv­ing media god, but they don’t care, do they!

I sup­pose if I was some school teacher and I got off with one of my stu­dents, then they would care. Well they would if I was a woman, espe­cially if I was a hot, young blonde woman like Debra Lafave.

She was a school teacher in the states who shagged one of her under­age stu­dents. Big deal. Every teenage boy should be that fuck­ing lucky with his first fucking!

If teach­ers looked like that when I was a stu­dent, and they put out reg­u­larly, atten­dance would have been at 100% every day of the school year! Just imag­ine the home­work assign­ments! “Tonight, stu­dents, I want you to prac­tise lick­ing teacher’s pussy. I’ll be vis­it­ing all of your homes, one at a time and giv­ing you each a chance with my waxed punani.” Oh baby, oh baby!

All right, enough with the cheap jokes. See the Van Halen video “Hot for Teacher”.

The fact is, male teach­ers have been bang­ing stu­dents for as long as there have been schools. I can remem­ber hear­ing rumours about teach­ers in my school screw­ing young girls and every­one just looked the other way. Even when they got knocked-up, which was one of the more believ­able and per­sis­tent rumours.

Always believe every rumour. Usu­ally, they are true.

Amer­ica and it’s crazy, wacky ver­sion of fun­da­men­tal­ist Chris­t­ian val­ues just couldn’t look the other way. Instead, they have tried to pros­e­cute this poor, horny, hot young woman.

She stood accused of hav­ing sex­ual needs, which as every­one knows is a sin. She also stood accused of ful­fill­ing her sex­ual needs with an under­age boy.

She stood accused for being human. Who among us could risk temp­ta­tion if it is served up on the prover­bial sil­ver plat­ter? Does any­one really think get­ting a teenage boy to give it to a very hot, slightly older woman is a hard sell? Did she put a gun to his head?

Now that would be kinky!

The punch­line to this entire tale is my favourite part of the story. It seems Ms. Lafave can’t serve a sen­tence in prison accord­ing to her lawyer.

Why? Sim­ple, because she is too fuck­ing hot look­ing to do time!

In the end, the judge dropped the charges and the mat­ter has been put to rest.

I’m just won­der­ing if it would be worth me sign­ing up for her next class. I read some­where that Debby Lafave is going to become an adult edu­ca­tion teacher.

You can make your own god­damn joke from that one. I’ve given you a great set-up line to start with!

Hey ho my fine-feathered fuck­ers, for­give me for my absence, but I’m back now and feel­ing bet­ter than ever!

Bet­ter than ever for me is not really say­ing much. It’s some­thing, I guess.

So I’ve got a joke for you. If you are eas­ily offended, please look away now and go read some­one else’s blog.

Please note, I said, “please”.

Ok, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Jesus is get­ting butt-fucked by Satan.

Satan is really giv­ing it to him hard and Jesus turns around and asks Satan, “Is this heaven, or is this hell?”

Satan then looks up at Jesus and says, “I was just think­ing the same thing.”

Ba-dum-bum.

Did I make you laugh?

Did I offend you?

Does it mat­ter either way?

The joke is inten­tion­ally offen­sive; it’s meant to get a reaction.

The big laugh; if there is one, should be sparked by the open­ing line. It’s the humour of the out­ra­geously uncomfortable.

Trust me, open your stand-up rou­tine with this line and you will be greeted with a burst of ner­vous laugh­ter fol­lowed by the sti­fled silence of peo­ple try­ing to con­tain their guilty guffaws.

The punch­line, if you can call it that, is far more sur­real and intel­lec­tual. It under­mines the open­ing line because it requires the audi­ence to think about what the joke is really saying.

What is heaven, what is hell? Could one person’s heaven be another person’s hell? Is there a heaven or a hell or for that mat­ter was there really a Jesus? Is the Devil still in busi­ness? Was he ever?

The main thing is did I offend you? And if I did, what does it say about you?

We’re sup­posed to have free speech, but do we? Can I really post this joke in my blog and not expect some sort of reaction?

Well, prob­a­bly not, because I remain largely undis­cov­ered and under­ground. I’m the biggest inter­net celebrity you’ve never heard of blah blah blah.

Are Chris­tians going to take to the streets and start burn­ing hip­py­ef­fi­gies? I think not.

Most peo­ple are strong enough in their beliefs not to allow the rav­ings of one mad hippy in north Lon­don to upset them.

Those who would be offended by my lit­tle stab at blas­phe­mous, thought pro­vok­ing humour, are the weak minded of our world. Their frag­ile belief sys­tem is such that there is no room for any pos­si­ble doubts to be raised, satir­i­cal or otherwise.

Which is why I’m not mak­ing any jokes about a cer­tain well-regarded Prophet, peace be upon him. I don’t want a fatwa on my ass!

But sup­pose, for the sake of a lit­tle spec­u­la­tive game play­ing, that some­one stum­bled upon this post and was offended.

Now, take it one step fur­ther and imag­ine this per­son, who is so offended, belongs to some right wing, fun­da­men­tal­ist Chris­t­ian group in America.

Sud­denly the link to my lit­tle blog is fly­ing through cyber­space at the speed of light to all cor­ners of the globe and before I know it, thou­sands, maybe even hun­dreds of thou­sands of crazed Chris­t­ian war­riors are out for my blessed hippyblood!

Egads! What’s a poor hippy to do?

I go into hid­ing, max out my credit cards, mov­ing from one 5-star hotel suite to the next, check­ing in under assumed hip­py­names before end­ing up in Rome, where I would sur­ren­der to the Pope him­self seek­ing sanctuary.

The Pope would invoke a long for­got­ten law of the papacy and have me put to death, iron­i­cally, by crucifixion.

With my beard and long hair, com­par­isons would undoubt­edly be made, as the nail­ing of this hippy to a cross would be broad­cast live, on every tv chan­nel across the planet.

And when I reach the after­life, after deny­ing it’s exis­tent for nearly my entire life; guess what happened?

I’ll find myself bent over, get­ting butt-fucked by Satan.

The uni­verse does have a sense of humour. Even I’d be laugh­ing at that eter­nal outcome!