Big Brother, solitary confinement and choking the chicken

Ok. I admit it. I was at home alone. I was desperate. It was either watch Big Brother, or watch yet another tedious fucking home improvement programme with ‘oh so plucky and whimsical music’ and Carol Voderman dragging her increasingly flabby arse around the screen…

So I ended up watching Big Brother. I kmow: the shame. The SHAME.
However, whilst i was half watching/half contemplating throwing myself out the window, a thought struck me. These poor bastards have been stuck in this house for about 60 days.
That’s 60 days with no privacy. 60 days with cameras following their every movement and action. Every gesture and nuance. Every room you visit and every word you say.
Nothing, it would seem escapes the glare of the cameras.
So, this got me to thinking. These poor sods have been stuck in this Max Clifford-like dystopian nightmare for almost two months without a moment alone. None of them are having relationships with each other. None of them have shagged.
So, to come to the point: how do these people have a wank? I mean come on? Seriously. How do they? If I went 60 days without cranking one out, I can safely say I would be a mass murderer. Most men would. It’s not a unreasonable thing to say. It’s not an unreasonable thing to ask about.
So, to get to the crux of the matter: does the Big Bruvva house have a whacking room? You know, a room with no cameras, no microphones and nobody watching. A room where house mates can go and grind one out whilst watching dodgy german porn and hoovering Pot Noodle down yer gullet?
Answers on a comment please…

damien

Damien DeBarra was born in the late 20th century and grew up in Dublin, Ireland. He now lives in London, England where he shares a house with four laptops, three bikes and a large collection of chairs.