Insufferable, infantile idiots.

We've managed to avoid talking about Big Brother so far, but as it's the final tonight we have to get this off our chests.

How in the name of the sweet lord Jesus did Channel 4 manage to find a group of sixteen people without a single redeeming feature to share between them? From Derek's snivelling superiority complex, via Orlaith's immovable tits of stone, to Maxwell's boorish bullying cuntery - every single housemate was an objectionable cretin.

BB6 has also come closer than ever to inducing mental breakdown (Craig) and serious physical harm (what if that bottle had shattered, Kinga?).

And have you noticed that the Sunday night show no longer has 'psychologist's evaluations' of the contestants? Presumably because all the housemates had the psychological profile of a potato chip. Or Myra Hindley.

Anyway, it all ends tonight and despite our better intentions the final is sure to be showing at Discopop Towers. The bookies reckon it's Eugene or Anthony to win. Here's what the Guardian's TV critic, Charlie Brooker, has to say about them:

Anthony: A man so profoundly thick you could sell him a pair of his own socks for £500, even if he was already wearing them.

Eugene: Only a heartless warlord couldn't warm to Eugene, a well-meaning human pylon whose ineptitude and timidity meant he was out of his depth from the off.

Oh, Wait a minute... we forgot Mary. We liked Mary. Whatever happened to her - with her beelzebub stare and her sparkly Irish broomstick? They should give her the fifty grand and pretend this whole thing never happened.

Guardian: Charlie Brooker on BB6

Digital Spy: Columns from BB4's Jon Tickle and Frederico

Tweet