Pete Bennett: what a wacky chap he was, with his strange taste in trousers and his even stranger taste in women. For weeks, Pete did nothing much. It didn’t matter: the women still fell at his feet, turning into crazed bunny boilers after just one whiff of his unwashed body.

As the competition drew to a close, though, Pete had an epiphany. The epiphany was this: Pete was The Chosen One – God’s own winner. He knew this because his dead friend had "come down from Heaven" and told him so. Er, right then, Pete. Not wanting to argue with the Almighty (or perhaps just too desperate to escape Nikki to care) the rest of the house mates all agreed that Pete was, indeed, the rightful winner. And so it came to be that Pete was crowned king winner, and everyone rejoiced. Predictably, his relationship with Nikki didn’t last. A few weeks ago, though, as the neighbourhood kids drifted past my window on their way to school, I heard their childish laughter. "Ezamanna!" they shouted. "Wanker!" To influence the minds of babes, it is a fine accomplishment indeed… 

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