Big Sister

A HUGE monster plug for Ruth Gledhill who has produced a blog post that actually explains very simply what all the fuss over the racism in Big Brother is all about. Brilliant.

Big Brother has done us all a service. It has shown us what this country is really like for gentle folks that come to live here. “She can’t even f*****g speak f*****g English properly,” said the inarticulate Danielle just now of the multi-lingual Shilpa. I am sorry that this is what a Bollywood star has to go through to become known in the West, but it will certainly have helped Shilpa break through the glass wall between us and Bollywood, and should have guaranteed her a starring role in film and television productions in the West, if that is what she wants. It will probably even have enhanced the celebrity status of Jade Goody and the other z-list celebs in her corner, once they’ve come out of the house and been through the inevitable racism rehab 12-step programme. (Step one: I admit I am powerless over racism, and my life has become unmanageable.) It has certainly enhanced the reputation of the near-noble Jermaine Jackson.

But for me, tonight, I am ashamed to be British.

For the record, after a week or two in Bangalore, I am very comfortable eating food (including all kinds of Indian food) with my hands. My local Indian Restaurant adores me. My wife just about handles it.

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