Big Brother is an infuriating enterprise. And no, this is not a tirade against the evil of 'reality TV' taking up precious scripted content hours on the world's most powerful medium, nor is it a scoff-scoff-snigger at the transparently ridiculous labelling of the genre to suggest that its programs bring us the reality of others' experiences when we all know, don't we darlings, that the events depicted are not naturally occurring, der. No. That is not what I am saying. What I am saying is that this particular show that is on the tele in Australia that I watch and that I find myself getting invested in with its particular people and their particular behaviour under the watchful eyes of particular programmers who play with us...IS BLOODY INFURIATING! The promise this show makes us is that - provided that we closely observe the housemates, and provided that we make judgments about them, and provided that we make our dislikes known - when Sunday rolls around we will be rewarded with the elation of victory when the housemate we dislike most gets his or her comeuppance. This is the show's appeal, but I have come to see that it is a sham. You see, comeuppance is the whole point of the show, and yet, that is precisely what Big Brother fails to deliver. Actually, that's not quite true. A truer statement to make would be that Big Brother does deliver comeuppance, but it is so fleeting a moment that it fails to satisfy. You see, for comeuppance to be satisfying, it needs to have a sustained existence. We need time to savour it. But Big Brother only apportions a three-minute window of time each week, between the announcement of the evictee's name and his/her appearance on stage, in which we are free to bask unhindered and happy, victorious, and certain of remaining so. This short time, which spans a commercial break, is the only opportunity we are given to glimpse the promised land of the show. Once this window is gone, events conspire to make us realise that, if we want to feel satisfied by Big Brother, we should be sure to remember for next time that those three minutes will be our only time to revel in the comeuppance we have administered. It is all the satisfaction we get. And then our dreams get crushed. We should know that by now. And yet, no matter how many times the cycle repeats itself, we never know that. We never remember for next time. So as each week delivers to us this packet of time, we use it in a way that will most likely compound and exacerbate our inevitable disappointment. We use it in a way that banks on there being other time - although experience has given us no proof of its existence - which will later allow us to savour this cherished comeuppance.

So, foolishly, this is what we do in those three minutes. We imagine all the delightfully horrible ways that the evictee will be made to realise the intolerable wrongness of their behaviour. How might it be done? A curly question from Gretel perhaps? Or perhaps a targeted statement would work better. Yes, yes. One that knocks the wind right out of them, revealing to them for the first excruciating time, the very horror of their inner natures. We close our eyes, lean back, and drink in the scene. We try to concoct the perfect package of words, a veritable dram of poison, and then we test out the variety of ways this juicy treat might be delivered, before settling on the perfect tone, whose perfection resides in our evaluation that it is the one best suited to violently wake the evictees up to themselves. And then, we scan our memories, and edit together a video package that will act as corroborating evidence to the character assessment that precedes it. We will jeer at them. We will say, "Now do you see? Huh? Punk?" And then, our mouth will curl menacingly as we deliver our scathing cherry; a hushed, emphatic, decisive and scornful "This is who you are".

The above is what our heads are full of. It is what we have prepared ourselves for. We are ready... trembling... luxuriating in anticipation of the imminent fulfillment of all our desires. However, what we don't know, though at this point we really should - come on people! - is that a transformation has occurred, and the change it has wrought cannot be unmade. And it is this; the instant that housemates leave the Big Brother house, they forget their behaviour in it. It is stunning, simple, and irrevocable. They cannot now, nor ever again, be drawn into any response other than, "It was a great experience. All the housemates are fantastic people. I learned so much about myself. Despite any difficulties we might have had inside the house, I know we'll all get together for a friendly beer and a chat as soon as this is all over. Wow, this is so amazing. Hi mum." Blah blah blah. So fucking jovial now. Even those who do mention the cruelties and bickerings in which they participated, who do allude to the emotional battery they either gave or received, who do fire a parting shot at their nemesis in the house by predicting their presence on the eviction stage a week later, yes, even these ones, these dissidents, nonetheless make the same staggering shift as the super-grateful-and-positive people. All somehow tailor their tone, speech and thinking, to deliver a summation of themselves and their time in the house that plainly misremembers the tone of the place, and their behaviour in it. And, just in case that won't fly, they are at pains to point out that somehow, though they stayed true to themselves, the 'unreality' of the house may have made them do things and have a personality and opinions and a self and core beliefs, that you know, aren't part of their everyday existence, in the 'real' world. Which pretty much means, "Anything that you didn't like was a result of the environment and anything you did like was me being true to myself". This whitewashing has been a characteristic of every single leave-taking that has ever occurred on Big Brother. And it is so empty.

And it doesn't seem to matter whether you're experience in the house has been as 'the bully' or 'the victim' or the many ways in between. No matter what, it all sounds the same in the end. A case in point is that of Belinda, who chose to leave the house. During her stay she was bullied by some and little supported by the rest. Her personality was a bit of a blank, so I think the bullies picked on her not out of rivalry, but just as an exercise for the benefit of others to demonstrate the power they could wield. Thus, she had great reasons to leave. She had been under more pressure than anyone else in the house, she had borne more harm and elicited less kindness from her fellow housemates than any person has in any Big Brother series to date. She was vehemently dismissed. It was unfathomable. So, with powerful feelings driving her to action, she chose to leave. And still, once she was out she exhibited exactly the same behaviour as any who get evicted. "It was a valuable experience". "I hope we can all get together once this is over". Seriously, it was as if, as soon as she was out, the unique factors of her own experience were forgotten, and, as with everyone before her, she misremembered her story to a point where it could be enveloped without much consternation into the more common story of experiences shared, lessons learnt, and friends made. Her leave-taking should have been a departure from the norm, it should have at least contained a remonstration of people other than herself, considering the individual nature and potency of her experience. But, of course, it didn't.

You see. It's all so unsatisfying. Leave-taking baddies should deliver, as part of their final summation, a convincing remonstration of themselves that is borne out by events. Likewise, leave-taking goodies should deliver a final summation of their time in the house that includes a convincing remonstration of others that is also borne out by events. Aaaaaah. It feels good, don’t it? This kind of behaviour is actually satisfying, because it allows us to sense and to feel in our bones that all is right with things... at the end of the day. It packs far more punch than simply being breathlessly told that all is right, in a manner that our bones can feel is a matter of course rather than truth. Oh, why must it be so? Can we really be stuck with this powerful letdown that unfalteringly rallies itself to kick us every week, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel? Well, yes, we can. And here's the rub. The very reason we tune in, week in and week out, is precisely because Big Brother disappoints our comeuppance expectations. And it is probably cannily set up to do so. Picture yourself. It is Sunday night. Your rage and your glee has been cut short, muted, forgotten in the wake of empty pleasantries. It has nothing to show for itself. So you are disappointed. You are frustrated. You were sure that this time, you were going to receive a much anticipated gift, an assurance of some kind that the disgust would be lasting and shared, that there would be judgment, consequences. You were sure that this time it would last. How could it not? But you know that it isn't going to. All the signs are there. So you think to yourself, "Okay. Fine. Today, it's not going to stick. But next week. Yes! Next week. Next week's comeuppance'll be a keeper. Hah! Yes my pretties. Next week, it will be different. It will. I know it. It has to be. There's no way we'll let them wriggle out of it next week." And so, we are all mugs. Tra-la-la.