Big Brother's Little Patience
'Oi, don't you know who I am?', her shrill voice screeching over the inane ramblings of other patrons. 'I was on Big Brother. I'm a fuckin' star and you're gonna treat me like one by serving me next!'

Adele had never watched Big Brother. It would have made no difference if she had. With 3 people on the bar in a student guild holding 700 thirsty individuals, there were no shortcuts and intimidations going on. Reality tv fame or not, the lass was going to wait.

And wait the lass would not.

As the queues began to wind down, a vein of aggitation became more strikingly apparent in this customer's face as her fake nails rummaged in the tiny bag on a string to pull out the undeniable conversation-stopper of any student establishment: the credit card. A shining black rectangle of diminished responsibility and financial overindulgance. A tiny gateway into a much larger world of adult alcoholism. It's beauty was only outdone by its limit.

'Listen, I'm gonna get served now, gottit? Get yourselves some drinks and a few other people and let me go back to the dancefloor. The pin is XXXX.' With no hesitation, a complete stranger had now been given the details necessary for a finacial joyride. Clearly these shows don't attract Darwin's elite.

Calculating the possibilities for a swift and painful retribution out of the eyeshot of our cretinious subject, Adele signals the international sign for a drink on the house to me. God bless that project management course I went on with her. Very nice lady - not physically - but definately game for a laugh. A few seconds later, and I've ordered myself 3 pints.

Adele's industrial sign isn't as good as mine (I, unlike some, was taught in the subject). The 3 glasses asexually bred at an exponential rate. Signalling to come over to the staff entry section of the bar, 30 servings of liquid gold arrived in front of me over time after returning the gatekeeper of credit to its rightful owner, receipt-free.

I nearly pissed myself with anticipation. All these, for me? Even a bloke of my size could only take 10 or so without requiring a paramedic. The spirit of generosity had arrived early as I shuffled between the punters, handing out drinks with gless. Some were aprehensive, others thought I was a sex offender waiting to strike, while most were so thirsty they looked ready to blow me there and then for it.

One final trip and I'm face to face with the blissfully unaware reality tv star. She sees the free drink. She sees me. She does the maths.

'Ere mate, is that for me? See, some people know how to treat a celebrity!'

'No way love, can't you afford a drink or two after being on Big Brother?'

And off I fucked to get rounded and vomit violently into the cloakroom. Good times.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Mon 20 Apr 2009, 14:14, 4 replies)

The year that Jade Goody was on BB
there was also a contestant called PJ. He did a university tour after the series ended and charged £5 per autograph at student unions.

I wonder how many people have a bit of paper in a drawer somewhere with "PJ" scrawled on it.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 14:38, closed)

was PJ the one who fucked Jade?
the twat
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 14:43, closed)

Yes
he drunkenly trashed a halls of residence kitchen at Keele university.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 14:46, closed)

Can't believe I'm going to ask this but...
...who was it then?? (damn my curiousity!)
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Wed 22 Apr 2009, 16:31, closed)