Pete Burns and Celebrity Big Brother

I have never watched a series of Big Brother - until this one. I can't decide what worries me most - the show itself, or the fact that I'm watching it. Even scarier is the fact that I actually care who wins. It's obvious that the pathetic British public are going to vote the Candy-Floss Girl, Chantelle Houghton, as the winner, a non-celebrity non-entity, who truly is the most irritating person I've ever seen on TV, closely followed by Traci "Boobs" Bingham. God, I could happily steal Pete Burns' stilettoes and stamp all over those two silly cows.

I was glad to see the back of Ghastly George and haven't missed Dennis Rodman. I've never liked George Galloway, but that footage, on Wednesday's news, of him approaching Saddam Hussein, grinning and addressing the murderous old bugger as "your excellency", made me want to hurl my already eaten tea at the living room wall. His excellency, my a**e! The only thing Saddam was excellent at was being an all-round, sadistic monster, him and his evil sons. And as for Rodman, the only words I ever heard from him were "I don't give a f***".

I want Pete Burns to win, because he doesn't pretend to be all sweetness and light, and everyone's friend. If he dislikes someone/something, he's straight out with it, to their faces, instead of sneaking behind their backs, like Paltry Preston, or Maggot by name and Maggot by nature. But will Pete win? Will he hell, because the great British public, or should I say, the great British adolescent public, will vote for little Miss Candy-Floss Chav-Knickers. I think I need some pills for my head - I can't believe I actually give a flying flan who wins Big Brother.