World Cup, Kelly Brook & Big Brother

You could practically hear the collective sharp intake of breath back in June as 22 million people up and down the country were treated to a free copy of The Sun newspaper as it came, uninvited through their letter boxes, complete with a World Cup survival guide.

Great. Thanks. But why? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but if I  want to read fairy stories, I will get out my battered copy of Grimm’s.

world cup

Free Sun on my mat.

Some while ago, I made a conscious decision to stop watching the news and reading newspapers. It has been the best thing I have ever done for my sanity. I have no idea what atrocities are going on across this beautiful planet and I have no idea why anyone would want to know.

If anything happens that is so major I need to hide in the cupboard under the stairs for any length of time, I am sure someone will be good enough to tell me. And if there is no time to get in the cupboard, well then it’s game over I guess. I don’t really want to be fighting with people looting the last of the Pot Noodles at the local Lidl anyway.

So, there I was yesterday, standing in my hallway, looking down at a copy of the Sun that the postman had just shoved through my door, wondering what wonderful propaganda could be so important that people who choose not to buy papers are now getting them for free. I wondered if brainwashing by newspaper will gradually become compulsory and we will be subjected to random testing to see if we can answer questions about what Kim Kardashian is doing/wearing /eating this week.

Once I had got over the shock of seeing a gatecrasher newspaper in my house, I opened it to find Kelly Brook smiling at me, reminding me what thighs look like before they get filled with nearly 60 years of the wrong food.

Then I noticed the reason that the beautiful Kelly is squatting daintily, atop shoes my mother would not consider ‘sensible’,  looking very pleased with herself (while caressing a lock of her own hair). It is because she has just ‘been voted’ Britain’s sexiest woman. Who by? Er, Sun readers I think.

Anyway, thankfully, anthropologist Desmond Morris kindly explains, on the same page, just what it is that makes Kelly Brook so appealing. That’s good because her flawless skin, pretty face and perfect body didn’t quite make that clear enough. Apparently it’s a combination of her ‘fresh faced innocence’ and a ‘chest-waist-hips ratio of perfect hourglass proportions’.

Thank you Desmond for clearing up the mystery. I honestly thought it was her extensive knowledge of the internal combustion engine that had men ogling at her. I am sure there are men up and down the country who will tear their eyes away from her picture to read Morris’s column to find out exactly why they find it so hard to tear their eyes away from her picture. Duh!

There are two more raven haired beauties on the page, Michelle Keegan who came second in the poll to find Britain’s sexiest woman, and Emily Ratajkowski who came third. And then oh, what’s this – let me get my magnifying glass – oh look, it’s three tiny little pictures of the men who came first, second and third in the poll to find the sexiest men! But wait, Desmond hasn’t explained what makes them sexy… Oh dear, no room left I suppose as the pictures of the three girlies take up lots and lots of space.

What a pity, I think an explanation of what makes David Beckham, Benedict Cumberpatch and David Gandy (that’s ok, I didn’t know either – he’s a model) sexy would have been really useful as I have been unable to figure it out by myself. Turn the page – quickly! And thank goodness I did because there are two things in this paper you may want to know. What the ‘offside rule’ in football is all about and how your love life can survive the World Cup.

Before you poo poo this news, just bear in mind that the dispenser of advice regarding your love life surviving the world cup is none other than Dr. Pam Spurr. What do you mean ‘who’s she’? She is one of the psychologist/body language expert experts off Big Brother. Big Brother? For heavens sake! Don’t you know anything about culcha? Big Brother is where a group of mentally challenged young people all scream OH MY GOD! a lot as they go into a house they can’t escape from to argue for three months. The viewers are then urged to spends lots of money each week ringing up to tell the producers who to throw out.

They have to share beds with each other, even though they have never met before and quite often there is quite a lot of discussion about whether any of them will have s-e-x. Yes really!They generally put in at least one very screechy flamboyant man with a distinctive regional accent, along with a selection of nubile, skinny young women who look gorgeous on the launch night as they teeter along the catwalk to deafening boos or cheers, depending on how humble or cocky they have been on the introductory video clip we are shown.

There is usually at least one mouthy blonde who has a stunning career in telesales but who really really wants to be a model. I like to see the ‘blondes’ kept in until the end so I can see what they look like with a 2 inch wide black centre parting. Sometimes they throw in a token ‘mum’ to be the voice of reason when it’s all kicking off 24 hours into the series but often the ‘mums’ turn out to be worse than the ‘children’.

There is usually a down to earth, fairly ordinary female housemate who is considered to be fat and ugly by the ‘pretty’ size minus-zero girls. There is also usually a handful of testosterone charged hunky boys, many of whom are models and who will sit and discuss which of the girls they would like to ‘get to know better’. It usually isn’t the fat ugly one.

Probably the most interesting thing about the show is seeing how the flawless beauties who enter the house on launch night become bleary eyed horrors with appalling skin in the space of 12 hours and several bottles of champagne.

Most of the ‘housemates’ have high flying careers in professions such as underwear modelling, modelling, acting, modelling, modelling and modelling. Occasionally they have someone on there who isn’t a model but wants to be one. It is a very aspirational show for young people to watch.

Anyway, Dr. Pam Spurr (a self-help expert according to the free Sun I received) appears on the show that comes on after Big Bother, called Big Brother’s Bit On the Side. Or BBOTS as it is affectionately known in academic circles. This show is where an audience of ordinary people (huh?), discuss all the arguing seen in the current episode and try to guess who will get voted out. Also on this show is a panel of celebrities who are famous for being models, actors, models, footballers wives, former Big Brother housemates, models, ex-models, wannabe models and so on. They get to sit on special chairs behind a special table during the show because they are superior human beings to the studio audience and they know a lot.

How do I know so much about this show? Fair question. Yes I do watch it but not for enjoyment. I watch it purely from an anthropological viewpoint to better understand  some of the other people in the UK who have the right to vote. Yes, scary isn’t it. I also like watching people make utter fools of themselves on national TV in order to be ‘famous’.

Back to Dr. Pam in my free Sun newspaper. As a self-help expert, she advises a number of things you can do to make sure your sex life, sorry, your love life survive the World Cup (which in case you didn’t know involves lots of football matches abroad somewhere).

My first thought about Dr. Pam’s 5 point plan for getting some ‘love’ during the world cup is that if you follow her advice, it isn’t exactly self-help really – well it isn’t is it? Just saying. One of her ‘self-help’ suggestions is that if you haven’t had any ‘attention’ for awhile, have a hot shower and then ‘parade‘ in front of your ‘transfixed‘ partner allowing your towel to ‘accidentally‘ drop. Apparently, the resulting ‘action‘ will move to the bedroom.

I don’t think Dr. Pam knows men very well. It is more likely he will ask you to get him a beer before having his way with you smack bang in front of the TV with the remote in one hand and his beer in the other. Welcome to man heaven you silly girls.

I tried it once draped in nothing but an England flag. He didn’t notice so I had to stand right in front of the TV. He missed a goal and we then had a row during which he missed another one. Still talks about it now and that was during the last World Cup.

Anyway, whoever decided to send out free copies of the Sun, thanks, I have had a laugh if nothing else. If anyone out there didn’t get it but wants one, do let me know, you can have mine. It might be worth something one day, there’s only 2 million of them.