Yes, it's true.
This whole ridiculous exercise was all an elaborate hoax filled to bursting with subliminal advertising aimed at getting you all to buy that new Weetabix cereal bar off the telly, and not purely an enjoyable exercise in bloggety blog weirdness with a bunch of random unconnected people having a laugh just because they can after all!
Or I could be lying.
Okay, I'm lying.
The real surprise is slightly two-fold. Okay, less of the slightly. It is two-fold.
The first fold of the two is that, as I predicted, I will be pushing back the deadline for the first task by one day. This means that everyone can relax with the trifle for a further 24 hours, and I'm sure that if you ask really nicely, or maybe even just ask, Little Blogger will be most welcoming (in more ways than one) and will sort you out good and proper (in more ways than one) and find some plonk for you. Coo-ee!
So to reiterate, first task, deadline, tomorrow night. End of.
The second and best of all the folds is the news that we have a new celebrity housemate! YES! A real-life flesh and blood celebrity! I shit you not. And even more exciting than that is the news that contrary to newspaper predictions it most definitely isn't Rolf Harris.
But it is.... PETER ANDRE!!!
Okay, I'm lying about that too.
But we do have a new housemate.
Big Blogger just felt that the place was a bit empty without old Anx there to keep everyone's spirits up, so I have done the usual, ie. whipped my sombrero out again (wonderful, trusty sombrero that she is) and pulled one final name out of her, and that name is....
*drum roll*
This means that Mr Angry will very shortly be paragliding in from his Canary Wharf penthouse and making a perfect landing in the Big Blogger garden, (hopefully, for him) narrowly avoiding the writhing trifle-covered bodies sprawled about trying to figure out which are cherries and which aren't.
If anyone has any problems with this then tough. Big Blogger makes the rules, and Big Blogger IS the rules.
You're perfectly free to tie Mr Angry up and do unspeakables to him though. Big Blogger doesn't have a problem with that, and Little Blogger practically thrives on that kind of thing, so go nuts...
Thankyou and goodnight.
BB
That's so not funny. Peter Andre is nearly dead and here you are making light of his and Katie/Jordan/I'm-not-Jodie-Marsh's horrible tragedy. Does the happiness of poor, bloated Harvey mean nothing?
Naaah, I don't think so either.
Bring on Mr. Angry!
*waves empty martini scepter, flicks trifle off of nose and staggers toward diary room*
Posted by: bob | Sunday, 03 June 2007 at 21:21
No disrespect to Mr Angry, but I'd have been delighted to welcome Peter Andre. Or Rolf Harris.
Posted by: Cat | Sunday, 03 June 2007 at 21:41
Mr. Angry and Katy?!! Rumours will fly.
Mr. Angry really, really likes big hugs. Can't get enough.
Posted by: clarissa | Sunday, 03 June 2007 at 21:48
This is a first for me. I have never had people disappointed to meet me because I am not Peter Andre. Lots of other reasons, obviously, but not that one.
I am also not James Blunt, Tony Blair, or Jeremy Clarkson, if that helps with the disappointment levels?
Posted by: Mr Angry | Sunday, 03 June 2007 at 22:54
Sorry. Peter Andre is dead. I killed him and a bloody pleasure it was too. Granted I had to heave Jordans tits out of the way to get to the slimy little motherfucker but it's amazing what you can do when you're Goth.
Posted by: SpanishGoth | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 06:59
i feel i'm a bit late to this party... arse.
did anyone take any photos? ;)
Posted by: little bugger | Monday, 04 June 2007 at 09:32
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