Chucklevision

Richard, breaking off from his work as something vital occurred to him, said to me this afternoon: "I have an important question to ask of you, one that will affect our working relationship for the next two, maybe three months."

I stared at him, heart a-flutter as possible scenarios involving sackings, extra pressure and imminent creative bickering ran through my head. "I need to know," he continued, "Whether you will be watching Big Brother?"

Because yes, it's that time of year again: Big bloody Brother is back. Richard was making sure, with a carefully aimed interrogation, that I won't be subjecting him to daily updates that will make him grind his teeth.

Now, aside from the how irritating absolutely everyone involved is - and I don't just limit that statement to the housemates, because they seem to have outdone themselves with aggravating presenters this time - the beginning of the Big Brother season means just one thing to me...

It's time for this sentence to ring through cyberspace and the mobile phone network on a daily basis: "ARE YOU THERE OMG TELL ME YOU'RE THERE". A sentence I grew used to hearing during the last cycle because WillowZ finds the whole thing even more stressful than I do, but still insists on watching it. Which I'm pretty sure was the cause of her late pregnancy high blood pressure.

We watched the opening show last night and I can't claim to be optimistic that there will be anyone worth watching. And, quite frankly, I'm mystified as to why anyone auditions any more. Were I to be accepted as a housemate, I would be immediately insulted, because they I would know they had categorised me as either weird, psychotic or pig ignorant.

Naturally, I assured Richard that I wouldn't dream of putting myself through the torture of watching this year's show. Which means I will be quite incapable of inflicting a daily update upon him, as I will have no date to up.

But I do have to admit...I probably lied.