IT AMAZES me that Coolio is not a politician. He's unbelievably manipulative, with a disturbing knack for sniffing out people's weak spots and exploiting them at every opportunity.
I swither between abhorring the man and rather liking him. The other day there was a long, depressing argument between him, Tommy and Mutya on what sort of behaviour does, and does not, constitute that of a "ho". Well, I suppose they've got to pass t
he time in there somehow.
Witness though, his sweetness towards Ulrika on the night of the eviction when, after Lucy left (anyone missing her? No? Me neither), with Ulrika in tears and missing her children desperately, he crept up, patted her on the back, and pointed out that she'd beaten out a woman half her age. Maybe it was a dig at her advancing years, but I don't think so. It was a genuine attempt at kindness, which in Coolio's world equals competitiveness.
Elsewhere, the house's actual politician is not happy. The group has been asked to participate in a task for tokens which involves doing a vigorous exercise regime to the tune of Eric Prydz's Call on Me. "We've got to have fun," states Tommy with the sort of thunderous facial expression he normally reserves for the courtroom.
While Ulrika, Big Brother's chosen choreographer, talks the rest of the group through the moves, he skulks around the corners of the living room like an acne-ridden teenager at a soft-drinks-only school dance. It's remarkably coy behaviour for someone who, just 48 hours before, had been gaily sliding around an ice rink dressed as a giant pepper pot.
Later on in the diary room he vents spleen. Sort of. "I'd rather be playing football," is all he will say on the matter before changing into his fuchsia leg-warmers.
He shouldn't have worried. What with the silver glitter, neon headbands, crimped hair and bottom-skimming leotards the housemates were squeezed into, the dance routine was a damned sight more entertaining than Celtic's 2-1 defeat of Dundee at the weekend.
I still feel there are some housemates who have yet to show their true colours. Terry cracked a little bit the other day, getting teary about his dad, admitting he was missing his kids and squaring up, hilariously, to Ulrika, telling her to her face he thought she was "high handed" (he's right, she is). But I've yet to see Verne really open up, and I can't help but feel Coolio is merely presenting a front, focusing on the image on the outside, rather than the man on the inside.
But then, that's politics for you.
The full article contains 447 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
