As I was galavanting around the city the other day, skipping merrily through the traffic cones and windscreen-washers, I noticed something. I was the only fuckwit around. I checked my watch (I don't actually have a watch, but I do have a drawing of a compass on my wrist) and realised that it was THAT time again. I should have realised... The fat people on The Biggest Loser aren't as fat as they once were, the dancers on So You Think You Can Dance... well, they're still dancing, possibly moreso than they previously were... It's time for Big Brother to grace our screens once again.
It's time for 16 spastics to be plucked from the streets and thrown into a house on the Gold Coast where they can fondle each other, themselves and Kyle Sandilands.
It's time to wonder whether showering in speedos would actually get you clean. It's time to listen to the riveting conversations of 18-year old Meghaan and 22-year old Ryder discussing "life experiences" when one night Meghaan lost her mobile phone and was all like, you know, totally like freaking out. It's time when "yeah nah" becomes an acceptable phrase.
No wonder I drink more when Big Brother is on.
It's time to read a book.