Am I the only person in the world who thinks George Galloway is cool? Man, I love that guy - what a freaking rock star! I mean, balls of steel. Galloway for PM!
Everybody I speak to thinks he's a dick, but that's only because they read The Sun, subscribe to the herd mentality, and are completely incapable of any form of independent thought whatsoever.
I find it amusing how the gutter press and his fellow parliamentarians had to wait until he was out of the way for 21 days to launch criticism against him, yet now that he's out of the Big Brother house they're cowering in the corner like common fly larvae.
Sure, Galloway's antics in the BB house were controversial - if not occasionally embarassing - but Jesus, imagine how much of a twat any one of us would look if cameras were to be trained on us 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for three monotonous weeks.
Normally I despise reality TV shows like Big Brother, but this time - for some peculiar reason - I was glued to the tube every night of the week like a video game retard.
The fact that all the interesting people were voted out of the house first, to leave a selection of insignificant nonentities, makes for a fascinating social observation about the mentality of the British public.
Clearly people don't appreciate provocation or controversy and would rather subscribe to dull conversation and unthreatening normality than have their reality tunnels challenged or their blinkered ideology advanced.
Galloway may have looked like a dick on many an occasion over the past three weeks, but that was only because the show did its utmost to emphasise those occasions and highlight the moments that they knew would be cringeworthy. That's television. That's showbiz, baby. That's what reality TV is all about.
When all is said and done, at least Galloway threw himself into the challenge positively and got involved in all the tasks regardless of how degrading and humiliating they might have been. That's more than I could ever say for myself, who if put in a similar situation would probably spend the entire duration of the stay segregated in self-impossed isolation, insulating myself from the clowns in the house and remaining perpetually paranoid about any public condemnation or opinion.
Then again, maybe I'd just burn the goddamned house to the ground on the first night and become famous for being the guy that destroyed reality television.
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