Big Brother's Crap Story
(Ver. -1.0)
Preface
Once upon a time lived some very conniving psychopaths. These psychopaths were collectively known as Endemol. One day, Endemol thought it would be a great idea to make a TV show in which a bus load of carefully selected, mostly egoistical people lived in a camera-filled house together, where they would stay for a relatively long time (in the case of victory, in exchange for a bag of money).
Predictably, this was a massive success, and so a celebrity version was commissioned. Shit one.
Well, here's an abridged, partially romanticised journal of what happened one time anyway for your viewing displeasure. Starting from Day 3. Please don't ask me why.
DAY 03
Today, housemates found themselves hoisting a dead cat off the roof with a ten-foot pole.* The cat had unfortunately wondered onto the newly electrified roof, possibly 'cause he was...curious?
"He's gonna land in the swimming pool." predicted Nicola, wisely. And so, as predicted, the fried feline flopped effortlessly into the swimming pool, creating a relatively microscopic monsoon of chlorinated H2O.
Most of the contestants were, to put it in layman's terms, stupefied at what had just happened.
"I am going to take a shit." inferred Frankie Cokeupthenose-a, scratching himself before promptly sodding off to the bathroom.
*Satisfaction brought it back, sources reported later.
DAY 04
Natalie found herself in the garden, sitting through Gareth's inspirational speech.
"Don't give in - give out. Go for it. When you see success sat right in front of your eyes, you gotta grab it ASAP, okay?" proclaimed Gareth, inspiringly.
"Right, yeah. Okay."
Then, as if by magic, what sounded like a loud explosion was heard emanating from the bedroom.
"Ooh Jeesas. What was that?" exclaimed Gareth. The two housemates went to investigate this alleged explosion.
But they never came back, for this wasn't just your regular household explosion, but rather...one of Mad Mr. Madsen's airbiscuits.
"Wow...sorry guys." declared a solemn, introspective Mad Mr. Madsen, before he too fainted.
DAY 06
Andrew Stoned sat in the diary room, beguiled by the various insults being hurled his way. Tears streamed down his mildly-powdered face as he wailed at a voice actor who probably didn't give deux shits.
"WHY. WHHHHY? Why must they hate **moi**? I'm not a prick, I'm a very important person! And fully heterosexual!" he squealed.
Moments later, he shot himself with an imaginary pistol bought from butt-buddy Mad Mr. Madsen.
Andrew Stoned may have died, but his ego still remains.
Meanwhile, Frankie Cokeupthenose-a was busy, erm...to put it Frankie-ly, snorting cocaine at the breakfast table, when suddenly Mad Mr. Madsen breezed through the door:
"Wow, those are...some nice...camera things.".
His eyes had dilated to such an extent that their geometric dimensions had breached minus values. And so, with an earth-shattering thud, Mad Mr. Madsen lay...dead. Cause of death? Overexposure to "psychological warfare".
DAY 42
Kirk the Berk sat atop the sofa, doing something that was unfamiliar to him: thinking.
This eventually proved too much and, following the paradox he created through realising he was without any discernible logic, he died.
Television viewers who witnessed this also testified that a large amount of steam was emanating from his ears at the time of his death, undoubtedly a side-effect of brain failure.
Georgia and the Twins were "conversating" with Romeo in the garden.
"Sheeit. Three oh da house homies be dyin'. So ah wuz theenkin', 'oh, Imma be next.' Sheeeeit. Cold got to be.", Romeo wisely inferred.
The Twins silently agreed; however, poor Georgia was left confused by the African-Ealing dialect presented before her. All she could possibly do now was play with her hair. And smile.
DAY WHAT MUST BE FIVE TRILLION
Meanwhile, the Wicked Witch of the-I mean, Denise West was busy beating the previously dead (now resurrected) Mad Mr. Madsen into submission.
In particular, she focused on whacking de knees with her specially customised whip. "DE KNEES, DE KNEES!" howled Mad Mr. Madsen, who had by now been driven infinitely madder than he could ever have dreamed of being. Eventually de knees gave way, leaving the Welch Witch with the opportunity to execute the finishing blow.
The final blow, administered to Madsen's gonads(en), created a massive shock wave which sent everything, quite literally, off the air. The deep, loud-as-fudge sound frequency reverberated around everyone's eardrums, causing severe tinnitus and soiled underwear respectively. Eventually, the sound's feedback caught up with the space-time continuum, causing the universe to divide-by-zero. Cheers, Endemol.
FIN. Watch the way out on your step.
Appendix
What? Body parts in books? You sicken me.