Big Brother 10 is trundling on with the guile and panache of a horse on a bouncy castle. Sophia got voted out for being a little too forthright and on exit, looked weirdly like a Mini Pop. I kept expecting her to break into a high-pitched “My baby takes the morning train…”. Of course, she, along with the Mohawked Lisa, have both fallen foul of that very modern disease, which is the misappropriation of honesty. Sophia slagged Saffia for being boring… but at least she did it to her face, like frontstabbing is the honourable version of backstabbing. Lisa loafed about calling Halfwit “a dickhead” and “pathetic” because he… well… wanted to be nice, albeit in a misguided way. And so, the gloves are off and we’re set for some car-crash telly… right?

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Sadly, Big Brother currently finds itself jumpy and caffeine wired. Honestly, it’s like witnessing the dreams of a paranoid schizophrenic. The house mates are walking around like they’ve been dosed with bromide, suddenly surging lustily and angrily when it wears off. This leaves us all with a very peculiar viewing experience.

The main theme of the tenth Big Brother is ‘Nipping It In The Bud’. Every single time something looks like it’s about to get tasty, the voice of Big Brother booms “PERSON X PLEASE COME TO THE DIARY ROOM”, leaving a room full of people at half-cock, like a bunch of randy teenagers who keep getting distracted in the vital and final moments of a wank.

As this continually happens, what we seem to be getting is a listless anger followed by the slight breaking of spirit. When that happens, you won’t get a punch thrown in anger. Curiously, you might end up with someone flipping like Michael Douglas in ‘Falling Down’, going on some giggling stabbing spree.

When it comes to actual lust, Kris and Dogface shared a kissy-wissy and danced kinda sideways to avoid erection detection on the dancefloor that it TV, and again, straight in, Big Brother boomed “WHAT HAVE WE TOLD YOU ABOUT FAKE ROMANCES?” Leaving the pair of them staring blankly with spittle hanging from their gobs.

After all the bother of various Big Brother shows of yore, the makers are seemingly confused at what their purpose is. So frightened are they by the notion of damaging anyone to the point where they sell their own death to a PR man, they’re stepping in at every given chance… even when it’s something as simple as making a brew or standing up a bit quickly.

Still, it’s hardly surprising in a way, when you’ve got Noirin threatening to go all Bobby Sands and have a hunger strike because Big Brother keeps making them draw a moustache and glasses on in permanent marker. God forbid they actually start to mess with their little minds… we might see people willingly crucifying themselves in the garden or having a dirty protest in the diary room.

So weirdly, now that Big Brother is turning into Over Sensitive Mother, we may well actually be seeing real and profoundly disturbing TV. This might be the one which sees people leaving the house with a bag full of nervous twitches and bloodshot eyes, foaming at the mouth and screaming like the Invasion of the Body Snatchers at the assembled crowd and rag photographers.

That, or it’ll continue to be a bit of a bore fest.