Day four

'I want to have a house meeting,' said Layla. 'So would it be cool if everybody just chilled? So we can all just have a natter maybe?'
Across the room Moon's bald head poked out from the book she was reading, a book entitled You are Gaia: Fourteen Steps to Becoming the Centre of Your Own Universe.
'It's dead spiritual, this book,'Moon said. 'It's about self- growth and development and personal empowerment, which at the end of the day I'm really into, if you know what I mean, right?'
'Yeah, Moon, wicked. Look, um, have you seen the state of the toilet?'
'What about it?'
'Well, it's not very cool, right? And Dervla and I...'
'I'm not fookin' cleaning it' said Moon. I've been here for four days and ain't even done a poo yet. I'm totally fookin bunged up, me, because I'm not getting my colonic irrigation, and also I reckon the electrical fields from all the cameras are fookin' about with me yin and the yang.'
'Layla's not asking you to clean the toilet, Moon,' said Dervla gently. 'We just think it would be good to organize some of the jobs that have to be done around the house, that's all.'
'Oh. Right. Whatever. I'm chilled either way. But at the end of the day I'm just not scrubbing out other people's shite when I haven't even done . I mean, that would be too fookin' ironic, that would.'
'Well, I don't mind doing heavy work, like lifting and shifting,' said Gazzer the Geezer, pausing in the push-ups that he had been doing pretty continuously since arriving in the house, 'but I ain't cleaning the bog, on account of the fact that I don't mind a dirty bog anyway. Gives you something to aim at when you're having a slash, don't it?
From the book "Dead Famous" by Ben Elton.

Dervla

She was the most beautiful, everybody agreed that, and the most mysterious. Quiet and extremely calm, it was never easy to work what was going on behind those smiling green Irish eyes. Eyes that always seemed to be laughing at a different joke from the res of the group. By the time of the murder Bervla had been the bookies' number two favourite to win the game, and she would have been number one had Geraldine Hennessy not occasionally and jealously edited against her, making her look stuck-up when in fact she was merely abstracted.
'So what's a trauma therapist when it's at home, then?' Garry asked. He and Dervla were stretched out beside the pool in the pleasant aftermath of the morning's champagne.
'Well, I suppose my job is to understand how people react to stress, so that I can help them to deal with it.' Dervla replied in her gentle Dublin brogue. 'That's why I wanted to come on this show. I mean, the whole experience is really just a series of small traumas, isn't it' I think it'll be very interesting to be close to the people experiencing those traumas and also to experience them myself.'
'So it's got nothing to do with winning half a million big ones, then?'
Dervla was far too clever to deny the charge completely. She knew that the nation would almost certainly be scrutinizing her reply that very evening.
'Well, that would be nice, of course. But I'm sure I'll be evicted long before that. No, basically I'm here to learn. About myself and about stress.'
From the book "Dead Famous" by Ben Elton

Woggle

'Shit, man,'Jazz observed, aghast.'Haven't you ever heard of soap?'
Woggle had taken up what was to become his habitual position, crouching on the floor in the room's only corner, his bearded chin resting on bony knees which he hugged close to his chest, his great horned dirty toenails poking out from his sandals.
Woggle was dirty in a way that only a person who has just emerged from digging a tunnel can be dirty . He had come straight to join the House Arrest team from his previous home, a 200-metre tunnel under the site of the proposed fifth terminal at Heathrow Airport. Woggle had suggested to Geraldine the Gaoler that perhaps he should take a shower before joining the team, but Geraldine, ever watchful for the elements that could for the elements that could be said to make up 'good telly', assured him that he was fine as he was. 'Just be yourself,'she had said.
'Who's that?' Woggle had replied. 'For I am the sum of all my past lives and those I have yet to live.'
Woggle stank. Digging tunnels is hard physical work and every drop of sweat that he had sweated remained in the fabric of his filthy garments, a motley collection of old bits of combats gear and denim. If Woggle had worn a leather jacket (which, being an animal liberationists, of course he would never do) he would have looked like one of those disgusting old-style hell's angels who never washed their Levi's no matter how often they urinated on them.
'Guy, you are rank!' Jazz continued. 'You are high! Here, man, have a blow on my deodorant before we all get killed of asphyxiation and suffocate to death here!
Woggle demurred, 'I consider all cosmetics to be humanoid affectations, yet one more example of our sad species' inability to accept its place as simply another animal on the planet.'
'Are you on drugs or what?'
'People think that they are superior to animals, and preening and scenting themselves is evidence of that,'Woggle droned with the moral self-assurance of a Buddha, 'but look at a cat's silky coat or a robin's joyful wings. Did any haughty supermodel ever look that good?'
'Too fucking right she did, guy,' said Jazz, who personally used two separate deodorants and anointed his skin daily with scented oils. 'I ain't never gone to sleep dreaming about shagging no cat, but Naomi and Kate are welcome any time.'
Layla spoke up from the kitchen area where she was preparing herbal tea. ? I have some cruelty-free organic cleansing lotions, Woggle, if you'd like to borrow them,'
Layla. Real job: fashion designer and retail supervisor. Star sign: Scorpio.
'They won't be cruelty-free after the plastic bottles end up in a landfill and a seagull gets its beak stuck in one,' Woggle replied.
From the book 'Dead Famous' by Ben Elton

Sally

'Nice knockers, girl!'Sally shouted at Kelly, who was just emerging from the pool.
Gary, all muscles and shaved head, was the next to emerge from the house. On seeing Kelly, soaking wet with her skimpy singlet clinging to her fit young body, he dropped to his knees in mock worship.?Thank you, God' he shouted to the skies. 'Something for the lads! We like that!'
Garry.Real job: van driver. Star sign: Cancer.
'Oh the girls!' Sally shouted back.'You never know, she might play for my team.'
'You a dyke, then?'Garry enquired, turning to her with interest.
'Derr! said Sally, pointing to the front of her vest on which were written the words 'I eat pussy.'
'Oh, is that what it means? I thought it meant you'd just been to a Chinese restaurant!' Garry laughed hugely at his joke, which was to provoke a minor scandal when it was broadcast later that evening, being considered highly bold, provocative and controversial.
Inside the house a bald woman in a leopardskinprint mini-skirt was exploring the living area. 'Check out, guys! There's a welcome basket! Wicked!
Moon. Real job: circus trapeze artiste and occasional lap-dancer. Star sign: Capricorn.
'Fags, chocolate, champagne! Wicked!
'Get stuck in! shouted Garry from the patio doors.
The others quickly assembled around the basket and the four bottles of Sainsbury's own-brand champagne were immediately opened. They all collapsed onto the orange, green and purple couches on which they would lounge for so much of the long days to come.
'Right, since we're chilling out and kicking back, I might as well tell you know,' Moon shouted in her exaggerated Mancunian accent, 'because at the end of the day you're all going to find out anyway. First of all I'm going to win this fookin' game, all fookin' right? So the rest of you bastards can just forget it! All right?' This exhibition of bravado was received with friendly cheers.
'Second, I've done lap-dancing, right? I took money off sad blokes for letting them see me bits. I'm not proud of it, but at the end of the day I was fookin' good at it right?'
This provoked more cheers and shouts of 'Good on you'
'And third. I've had a boob job right? I was right? I was dead unhappy with my self-image before, and my new tits have really empowered me as a person in my own right, right? Which at the end of the day is what it's all about,ain't it? Quite frankly, at the end of the day, I feel that these are the boobs I was supposed to have.'
'Gi's a look, then darling, and I'll tell you if you're right! Gazzer shouted.
'Easy tiger!' Moon Shrieked, revelling in the attention 'Take it easy. we've got nine fookin´weeks in here, don't want to peak too soon. Oh God, though, what have I said? I feel terrible. me mum never knew about me being a stripper, she thinks I'm dead proper, me. Sorry, Mum!
'I've nothing against a bit of cosmetic surgery,' Jazz reflected. I've never regretted my knob reduction, at least now it don't poke out the bottom of me trousers!
The housemates laughed and shrieked and said 'Wicked!' but there were some who laughed more than others. A quiet looking girl with raven-dark hair and green eyes only smiled. Sitting beside her was a rather straight-looking young man dressed in smart but casual Timberland.
Hamish. real job: junior doctor. Star sign : leo
From the book ?Dead Famous' by Ben Elton

One House

One house. Ten contestants. Thirty cameras. Forty microphones. One survivor.
The words punched themselves onto the screen like first slamming into a face.
Frantic, angry rock music accompanied the post punk graphics and the grainy images supporting them.
A spinning hot-head camera.
A barbed wire fence.
A snarling guard dog.
A girl with her back to the camera removing her bra.
A close -up of a mouth , screaming and contorted with rage.
More big guitar noise, More jagged graphics.
Nobody watching could be in the slightest doubt that this was telly from the hip and for the hip. The message was clear: boring people should seek their entertainment elsewhere, but if you happened to be young, bigged up and mad for it, this was the show for you.
Nine weeks. No excuses. No escape.
House. Arrest.
A final blast of swooping feedback- laden guitar and the credits were over.For one last moment the Peeping Tom house was empty and all was calm. A big, bright friendly space, with a wide tiles living area , pleasant communal rooms bedrooms, stainless steel washrooms and showers and a swimming pool in the garden.
The front door opened and ten young people spilled through it, spreading out into the large open plan living area. Ten people who, the pre-publicity had assured the nation, had never met before in their lives.
They whooped, they shrieked, they hugged, they say 'Wicked! over and over again. Some went into the bedrooms and jumped up and down on the beds, others did chin-ups on the door frames, one or two stood back a little and watched, but everybody seemed to be of the opinion tat the adventure of a lifetime had just begun and they simply could not be starting off on it with a more wicked crew.
Having clearly established the fact that the viewing public were in the company of a party crowd, the camera began to introduce the housemates individually.
The first to be picked out was an impossibly handsome young man with soft puppy eyes, boyish features and long shoulder-length hair. He wore a big black coat and carried a guitar. A graphic stamped itself across the man's face, letters made out of bricks, like prison walls.
David. Real job: actor. Star sign : Aries
From the book 'Dead Famous' by Ben Elton

Jazz fixed Garry with a gaze

Jazz fixed Garry with a gaze he clearly believed was both enigmatic and intimidating. Jazz's body was even better than Garry's and he too kept his muscles in a pretty continuous state of tension. They seemed almost to ripple up and down his arms as he idly fondled the thick gold chain that hung round his neck and lay heavy on his beautiful honed chest. 'Gorilla.'
'What?'
'You didn't say "bloke", you said "gorilla".'
'Did I? Well, what I mean is gorillas are big and strong, ain't they? Like your lot.'
Over by the kitchen units Layla, the blonde hippie supermodel in her own mind, tossed her fabulous breaded braids in disgust, Inspector Coleridge knew that Layla had tossed her lovely hair in disgust, because the video edit he was watching had cut abruptly to her. There was no way that Peeping Tom was going to miss that snooty little middle-class sneer. Coleridge was quickly coming to realize that Peeping Tom's editorial position was firmly anti intellectual pretension.
'We consider ourselves to be the People's Peeping Tom,' Geraldine was quoted as saying in the article. Clearly she also considered Layla to be a stuck-up, humourless, middle class bitch, for that was how the edit was portraying her.
From the book 'Dead Famous' by Ben Elton

But the excitement wasn't over

As Hamish gently explored, a phrase suddenly appeared in his fuddled consciousness, a phrase which he remembered from his class on forensic medicine. The phrase was digital penetration.
That's what he was doing now, That was what it would be called if anybody ever knew.
Suddenly Hamish became aware of the appalling risk that he was running. He was committing a serious crime. This crazy drunken improvisation, this sex prank, was assault. He could go to prison.
Hamish began to remove his hand, but reluctantly. And as he did, for a moment he pulled aside the thin, damp gusset of Kelly?s G-string and in that moment, in that one blinding moment of lust, he seriously considered taking his straining, aching erection from inside his own underpants and with it entering Kelly's unconscious body.
The thought lasted only for a moment. Drunk as he was, the terrible, life changing risks that he had already run were clear to him. In fact it was the momentary contemplation if this even grater abuse that truly brought home to Hamish the gravity of what he had already done.
From the book 'Dead Famous' by Ben Elton

Day twenty-six

Bob Fogarty waited until the following morning's production meeting to make his complaint. He wanted his objections to be noted publicly. It was difficult for him to find his moment because Geraldine was roaring with laughter so much as she recalled Sally's unlikely take on the weekly task.
'All I'm trying to do is persuade them to feel each other up and it turns out I'm a champion of minority rights. Anyway, all ethnic and sexual bollocks aside, Dervla will have to get them out for the lads or nobody gets a drink next week.'
Fogarty had to stand up to get her attention. 'Geraldine, we are coercing this girl into taking her clothes off against her wishes.'
'Yes, Bob, we all know that.Why are you standing up ?'
'Because , I think it's morally corrupt.'
(From the book Dead Famous, by Ben Elton)

The last show

It was not as if Peeping Tom had not put in the effort.
All the ingredients were in place for a television spectacular. There were fireworks, weaving searchlights, rock bands, three separate cherry pickers fot three separate trips across the moat. The world's press was there, the baying crowds were there. Ghloe the presenter's wonderful breasts were there, almost entirely on display as they struggled to burst free from the confines of her pink leather bra.
Perhaps the mos intriguingly of all, five out of the six previous evictees were also there. All of the suspects had returned to the scene of the crime.
In fact the ex-housemates were obliged to come back for the final party under the terms of their contracts, but they would probably have come anyway. The lure of fame remained as strong as ever, and with the exception of Woggle, who had jumped bail, Peeping Tom had assembled them all. Even Layla had made the effort and spruced herself up, as had David, Hamish, Sally (who got a huge cheer when she entered, walking slowly but on the way to recovery) and Moon.
Extrac from the book "Dead Famous"