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Hi Big Brother. Today has been a good day because the housemates have stopped screaming in my face. I tried to not take it personally but after the fourth hour of terror ridden shrieks I started to get a bit upset, but I understand that it must be a shock to be sharing the Big Brother house with a ghost.
I eventually floated up to one of the dark corners of the room and waited for them to tire. It wasn’t until they’d calmed down and we were assembled on the bean bags that I finally felt like I might fit in.
But then I went to slip outside and Greg walked through me by accident. He immediately freaked out again and it took half an hour and three cups of camomile tea to stop him hyperventilating.
He kept whispering “as cold as frost, as cold as frost” over and over as he stared at me with the bloodshot eyes of a panicked animal.
I spent the rest of the evening in the garden, floating aimlessly.
The housemates all got drunk last night and Stacey tried to hug me, which was a lovely gesture. Of course I can’t feel anything due to my lack of skin and human body but I pretended so as not to offend her and said “that was nice.”
I hope we become friends. Stacey is the housemate who is topless the least and therefore the person I feel I can relate to the most.
I feel like I am making friends Big Brother. It’s as though everyone has forgotten I last breathed oxygen in the 16th century and knew William Shakespeare intimately.
I helped make dinner last night and everything was going swimmingly. Greg, Hugo and I were dancing to a song Stacey was singing about different body parts and animals which I am guessing is a sort of educational psalm for children.
It went “My neck, my back, my pussy and my nap-sack.”
It was quite catchy and I can imagine the children of my time really enjoying its sparkling rhymes.
Unfortunately I forgot myself in the moment and dropped the carrots all over the floor. They went straight through me.
I retired to the garden in frustration and howled at the moon. No-one came to comfort me. I feel as transparent as I look.
I have a friend! Oh joy to the world and all that is holy! Marie-Claire and I gossiped for a whole hour today about Pocahontas. She was shocked that I lived at the same time as her. Marie-Claire wanted to know all about her because apparently Pocahontas has been depicted in some sort of moving picture. I had to break the news to her that Pocahontas was a right cow. She would walk straight up to me at a ball and tell me my corset was so last season and then when a Royal Court portrait artist would pass our group she would pose with a big smile and her arms around my neck.
“That feeling when you have to stand for an artist for three hours with a woman you hate hugging you, am I right?” I laughed.
“My cousin is always tagging me in ugly pics on instagram.” Marie-Claire replied, and we both went silent, unable to penetrate each other’s worlds.
She told me it was nice to have a clever friend. She said all her other friends talk about is breast surgery and whether they should join Emirates cabin crew.
“It sounds super fancy but in reality you are still sitting on the floor of a plane eating Weetabix out of the lunchbox,” she said.
I feel I am learning a lot about the outside world, which is ironic since I am stuck in a building.
We are having a party tonight Big Brother. I hope I have observed my housemates social behaviours enough to get through it with a little bit of dignity. I have already made a fool of myself when David, the youngster of the house, danced in a circle with some strong alcohol in the air and sang:
“Vodka in, inhibitions out!”
And I gently told him that his bashfulness was endearing and he would one day make a fine husband, father and bank clerk.
He looked at me, confused and said:
“Just wanna get drunk like!”
I aim to use this ball tonight to let my hair down and ‘go mental’ as my housemates say.
Last night was magical. Stacey was throwing up in the sink by 9pm.
“Vodka in, vomit out,” I joked to David, but he pulled up his t-shirt to reveal his nipples and made a loud bellowing sound. I’m pretty sure that means he is fond of me. I used to be so good at telling the character of a person by their demeanour but in here it is a minefield.
Marie-Claire drank three tequila shots out of Greg’s hair belly button then insisted we push the couches back to create a dance floor.
“Great, will we start with the waltz?” I inquired. They all clapped and got me to teach them a classic waltz for an hour. I was dancing with Derek who is the most handsome of the housemates. I noticed during my instruction that we was looking right at me, not through me, but at me. Although I am incapable of feelings, it ignited something inside me. I’m not sure what.
Once they had mastered the waltz Marie-Claire took it upon herself to teach me her favourite dance. It was titled ‘5, 6, 7, 8’ and is usually performed by a musical consort named Steps. I got incredibly frustrated within three minutes and floated off in a huff. I still can not get the song out of my head. It is a new torture for my unresting soul.
The party wound down with all of us in the hot tub. Stacey had to sit on the edge with a bucket on the ground to wretch into every few minutes, in between sips of champagne.
Big Brother, to feel the tepid water of a hot tub at dusk against my human flesh is all that I crave! Derek told me I looked really pretty tonight. Unfortunately he couldn’t see where I was hovering as the steam was so thick. He was talking to a plant. I couldn’t find the courage to tell him.
Today we talked about what we are going to do when we get out of here. Stacey said she wants to be a soloist and sung us one of her original songs. It involved a buggy which moved without the aid of a horse. I was transfixed. Her talking voice, or as she calls it rapping, was entrancing. I hope she gets to perform for the royal family one day, they would surely employ her as some sort of court player.
I told her this and she said that Prince Harry is well fit. I am glad the current royal family are keeping in shape. It is important they serve as an example to us, their lowly servants. I told my housemates I wanted to write a cookbook and they were really interested.
“I believe everyone should know how to serve a pheasant,” I proclaimed and they gave me a round of applause. It feels good to share what I am passionate about with my new friends.
Obviously things have been tense between me and Derek since the incident in the bedroom last night. I knew he had started to have feelings for me; his longing glances, his whispered words of lust.
“I bet you were real fit when you were alive,” and “I think you would have been wife material if I lived in the 16th century too. Hashtag wifey.”
But when he stole into my bed last night and begged me to make love to him I had to break it to him that due to my shortage of bodily organs I can no longer carry out that act. He was crushed.
“Not even a little hand job?” He whimpered into the cold night air. Oh to be human again and feel true love’s touch!
Stacey was the first to be eliminated. Big Brother, we were all shell shocked! Apart from Marie-Claire who said “let the games begin” and winked at a nearby camera. I had forgotten this was a game, Big Brother. I was a keen billiards player in my time. I need to search deep inside my hollow shell for the competitiveness I once felt. I must remember that I am not here to make friends.
Derek revealed to me today that he doesn’t even want to be famous, he wants to buy a farm in Wales and grow oats to turn into milk. I told him he was a poet and he said:
“No, farmer, F-A-R-M-E-R.”
My loving feelings for him have been replaced by a insatiable need to beat him at this game.
David is gone. He cried and shouted “Why don’t you love me?” at a camera, which then turned away in disgust. The game continues.
In a double eviction shock Marie-Claire and quiet Ursula are both gone to the guillotine. Only me and Derek left. I have never felt so alive!
I let Derek kiss me today, which involved holding a cushion up to my ghostly face and him slobbering all over it. He was clearly invigorated by the event, beaming:
“That was the best kiss of my life,” then jogging around the garden for twenty minutes. I wish I could have felt something; the brush of his tongue, the snap of his lips.
In the 1600s, Derek would have been a noble man who could have had his choice of fine wives to pick from. I wonder would he have asked me to dance at a ball, or made a beeline for Pocahontas like all the bloody men of my time?
Later as he lounged in a beanie bag and I floated on top of his lap, he inquired into my ear what was the sexuality of someone who is in love with a ghost? I said in God’s eyes we are all sinners and he pulled his trousers down to show me his thigh tattoo of Jesus dying on the cross with the words ‘Mo Money, Mo Problems’ inked above.
He is a man of God and therefore deserves to win. If I was alive and not in this house I would dressup like a man and vote for Derek.
Big Brother I am speechless. Derek has gone and I have just been informed I won. I have fifteen minutes before I am joined by Emma Willis, the great minstrel of this era, to interview me on my experience. I have made something of myself, something I failed to do as a human. I finally feel complete. I finally feel whole!
Oh my hand has disappeared, that’s odd. And the other one. My legs are melting away too. I feel full of bliss. I feel like I am being touched by a million Dereks. I can see the light. It is glorious. I am going towards the light.
I see a hot tub. It is beautiful.