I'm forming opinions, man. No good can come of this motherfucking development, but it was too late is what I'm guessing.

Then the female housemates were introduced, and I'm saying "She seems a bit boring" and "I wonder what she'll say when she finds out so-and-so said such-and-such" and thinking about how explosive it might be when the racist homosexual meets up with the homophobic asylum seeker.

But the most bizarre occurrence was that I then ran downstairs and started that night's instalment recording. As far as I know, I wasn't asked to do so by anybody. This was one of those free-will type affairs. I was of sound mind and slightly battered, but nonetheless functional body, and I was taping Big Brother, because I didn't want to miss anything.

What? Like one of them might roll over and fart or some such motherfucking mundane toss?

That's what The Duke Of Old would have been hissing. Fuck you, The Duke Of Old, is what the new, relaxed, comfortable The Duke would like to say to that hypothetical motherfucker.

Next thing I know, when I'm leaving the house, unsure of when I might return that evening, I'm saying things like "Tape Big Brother for me if I'm not back."

I'm watching things called Diary Room -Uncut! just to see if there's a sentence or two of tremendous import that I might have missed in the nightly round-ups. As if they would leave anything out.

I'm watching Big Brother's Little Brother, I'm having conversations about The Housemates, I'm finding myself really really attached to these people.

I find that I like them. I like sharing a bit of my telly-viewing with them. I like that every day brings its own mini-calamities and triumphs. I find that I love the idea of the game, how it's probably the most innovative game show of the last twenty years. I like the illusion of interactivity created by it all, like it's a communal thing, just because you can watch them sleeping all night on E4. Like that channel you used to get on Sky in the UK that was just a fireplace the whole damn night. Except this time, there's more chance of some of the folks getting up and having a shit or a sex or something.

I find that I really like some of the folks here, and even better, I really don't like some of them. There are heroes, heroines, villains and motherfuckers, and I get to spend the whole day observing them if I want. I don't, necessarily, finding for the most part that the hour or half-hour on channel four at night is more than enough.

I love that Jay, the butch, muscular jock-type from Scotland, I love that although he at first seemed to be the run-of-the-mill "lad" type, he somehow became one of my favourites. He seems sensitive, compassionate, a little bruised beneath the surface. I love the relationship he has carved with Dan, the lanky, impossibly cool gay fella, and I'm hoping they get it on, man.