Disclaimer: Sorry love, the disclaimers are off.
Episode 8/Day 9
Concentrating on the glossy titles at the start of the show, I notice that Gillian McKeith scrubs up well. I feel dirty for the rest of the programme.
Here are the headlines:
I get as excited as my cousin Cletus.
Gillian’s *cough* fainting fit of yesterday is put under the microscope. Although we are left to our own decision as to what really occurred, up close and in HD-land, it’s impossible not to notice that Gillian displays a highly unusual amount of colour for a person who is supposed to have fainted. Her Austenesque ‘fall’ receives close scrutiny too.
No matter what we think, the slebs have their views. Shaun’s finely-honed observation of ‘if that was real, so are my teeth,’ is quickly followed by Dom’s rapier-like double entendre, ‘It was like watching Mrs Haversham going down’. It seems that none of the slebs think the faint was real. Except for Allison Hammond. Or maybe she’s just being generous and showing ‘benefit of the doubt’ which some people call naivete?
In the prison, things are not going well for Sheryl and Lembit. Not going well for Sheryl, really. Lembit talks and Sheryl starts to look a little stir-crazy. Lembit talks and Sheryl looks very stir-crazy. Lembit talks and Sheryl starts to eat her left leg. Lembit sings ‘Amazing Grace’ in a Negro Spiritual style and Sheryl looks to see if that partially sharpened stick is within reach. Sadly, it isn’t. It seems that only one of these contestants is really in prison; Lembit is enjoying the experience. Maybe he went to public school.
The other development is that Nigel has decided to call a spade an earth-inverting implement. He’s leaving the camp, having reached his limit of the slimy side of life. And the outback.
Despite his taciturn demeanour, Nigel will be much-missed by some of his colleagues. Shaun hugs him with genuine emotion and camp not-quite-newbie, Jenny Éclair, bursts in to tears. Nigel draws himself up to his full actoresque height and delivers, ‘I’m just going to slip away’, before he makes a meal of parading around the camp saying goodbye to everyone. Not even the sight of Kayla, almost wearing the skimpiest swimsuit in the history of skimpy swimsuit-wearing, can tempt him to stay.
By the cringe, that girl’s bunny-hops have been paying dividends. There may have been some ‘rewind’ and ‘slow-play’ action in the house, just to enable me to study the intricate design of Kayla’s swimmies, obv.
As Nigel manfully hauls his sorry arse out of camp, Dom blesses his journey with a slightly wicked, ‘See you in Panto!’.
Later in the day, our free-range and battery-variety slebs are hauled off back to endure round two of the Kangaroo Court challenge. I’ve worked out what the theme music they walk in to the challenge is. Perry Mason. Ask your great-gran. Big up to ITV for being down wiv da kids. Not.
Today each of our intrepids have to rearrange their own face. Gillian probably does this every morning, but with makeup. I’m still remembering the opening title sequence.
It’s just like one of those ‘sliding square’ puzzles, they have a set of flat tiles which they have to rearrange to show a photo of their own face. The longer they take,the more bugs, beasties, creepies and crawlies are pumped in to their booths. Gillian has worked out what’s going to happen. She’s a sly old fox. In a not-foxy kind of way.
As soon as she realises what the little trap-doors in her booth will be used for, she starts going mental before the challenge has even started. In a beautifully-long, two-second shot, it’s clear that Dom Joly hates her. I look forward to their developing relationship.
The gavel bangs to signal the start of the challenge and Gillian cheats. Again. There is a theme emerging here. It’s almost as if the word ‘cheat’ is synonymous with the name Gillian McKeith. After perching on the outside edge of the booth for five minutes, the correct decision is taken and she’s disqualified, but fuck me, she argues the toss. Back in the camp video-booth she argues some more. And tells the show producers to get themselves a lawyer because she disputes their definition of the word ‘cheating’. Because not standing in the booth and thus evading the livelier side of the challenge, that’s not cheating at all, is it? Well yes, it is, obv.
Gillian and Shaun are the losers in today’s challenge and are hauled off to join Sheryl and Lembit in prison. Gillian examines her surroundings as Shaun unpacks his few possessions. ‘Where am I going to do my pilates?’ she wails to no-one listening. Gillian is quite clearly fucking bonkers and being in prison is our opportunity to examine her bonkersness in closer detail. Having established that the producers have failed to provide her with a proper pilates platform, Gillian continues to shout her innocence, like a newly banged-up chav after her 251st ASBO. To show our support for Gillian’s campaign to establish her innocence, Shouting At Cows have had some special t-shirts made:
Channelling my five-year-old nephew, Gillian starts to lash out against the nearest thing to her; she picks a fight with Shaun. This is clearly not a wise course of action. She pecks at him and tells him where he can and can’t smoke. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as Shaun, in typical, forthright, Mancunian style, tells her where to shove her opinions. Gillian then berates him for swearing. I may have chortled. L’ingOL was so yesterday.
Time passes, and as the evening draws in there are signs that the post-Havers camp is settling down. It is nice to see such a small group of people dealing so well with the loss of a major personality.
Shortly before the ingredients for their Linford-provided evening meal are delivered, the slebs are told that everyone from the prison can join the rest of the camp for good behaviour. Yay! Except Gillian. Boo! She has to surrender her contraband cooking ingredients before she is allowed out. With the predictability of a spoiled brat, Gillian first of all says ’I’m not denying or admitting to anything’, and follows that up with the crystal clear ‘I don’t have contraband’.
Tea, tonight, will be a whole wallaby. ‘What’s a wallaby?’ asks Argos. Look in the bag, I think at him. Or he may have asked ‘What’s a wannabe?’. Look in the mirror, I think at him.
The tucker-bag is peeled back to reveal a skinned, but very identifiable, wallaby, waiting to be cut up (and stewed, if the slebs have any sense). They will dine most excellently tonight. Oh yes.
Except for Gillian, of course, who continues to protest her integrity and her lack of illegal ingredients. As soon as everyone else gathers around the camp-fire, she gets a spoonful of the contraband she hasn’t got, and adds it to her vegetables. She is completely off her head.
With the predictability of a lying politician, the viewers have decided that Gillian is to face tomorrow’s challenge. Dom is to accompany her. I’m off to have a wallaby-burger. With HP sauce, obv.
You can follow ‘I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here!’ on ITV but, let’s face it, you’d rather be reading about it here. And who can blame you.