Is it a bee? Is it a plane? No, it’s a Vuvuzela.

For the past week millions of households across the UK, or even the world for that matter, could have been forgiven for thinking that a swarm of bees had nestled in the back of their TV sets while they watched the World Cup. This has consequently put a sting in the tail of the British public, who have found this incessant droning quite irritating, and made the competition not as entertaining as they’d hoped.

However, as we all discovered, it was not a giant frenzy of bees hidden inside the stadium, it was a mass of people playing an African horn called a vuvuzela. I mean, I had heard of them before the tournament started but did I think you’d be able to hear them right throughout the match?! No, is the answer. Neither did I think they’d cause so much controversy that a request was sent to FIFA to get them banned, although this was declined.

Most people can’t stand the noise, my mum and sister included, and it would be so easy to agree with them. I have to admit it’s not the most pleasant of sounds, and if you’re like me who aims to watch most of the matches, it threatens to make your viewing of the World Cup pretty tedious. It also gives my mum some ammunition to convince me that the Coronation Street theme tune would be much better to listen to in the evenings, however I’ve started to forget the vuvuzelas are even there.

I’m all for tradition as well, and if this is how South Africa expresses itself throughout football matches, then let them. This is the first World Cup on African soil, so we’re bound to experience something new and different during matches. Even though you may not be able to hear fans chanting throughout World Cup matches, I think the vuvuzela adds a new dimension to the atmosphere.

Anyway, what are us Brits complaining about?! Thousands of us have already bought the plastic version that has been exported over here, and are quite happy to test it out in our homes and on the streets. Even my good friend Lou magically found one lurking in her house, so who knows, you may also find a vuvuzela under your stairs or in your garden shed.

The vuvuzelas have also given us an opportunity to crack endless jokes at our own nations expense. After the game against Algeria, lots of quips surfaced, some of my favourites being, “That’s not vuvuzelas, that’s the grass snoring”; or, “That’s not vuvuzelas, that’s the sound of a whole nation booing”. So, the vuvuzelas in a sense have given us some comedic relief from England’s poor performances on the pitch.

It seems that slowly everyone is warming to the African horn, and hopefully this World Cup will be remembered for the right reasons on the field, and not just for that annoying noise that got on everyones nerves.

We’ve spent enough time blowing our own trumpets about England’s World Cup chances, so why not let Africa blow theirs?

RA

You are live on Channel 4, please do not swear

I’m quite the sucker for reality television. From watching beautiful people with ugly lives in The Hills to the search of Sir Alan’s (or should I say Lord Sugar) next employee on the Apprentice. I watch them all. So it comes as no surprise that my first blog post should be about this year’s (and final) Big Brother. It finishes after 11 series and over 1000 episodes with 182 people competing for that ‘all important’ 30 seconds of fame.

So is it your big brother or all just a big bother?

I have always been told not to watch it by disapproving parents and friends who think better. All in all, they’re probably right. I mean, you’re essentially spending hours and days watching 12 or so unknown fame seekers in a house. I like to tell them that I watch it out of mere curiosity to justify myself. I still to this day believe it to be a social experiment like no other and as a psychologist and linguist at university, I can’t help but be fascinated.

The housemates are selected based on how ‘interesting’ they appear when really we all know it’s how ‘weird’ they are. This naturally, makes for better viewing. This year is no exception with 14 budding eccentrics with a desperate desire for their claim to fame entering the house.

Episode 1 saw 81 hopefuls standing outside the circus themed house (how appropriate) based in Borehamwood, Hertfordshire. Big Brother then proceeded to announce the 13 who had made it with the remaining candidate being picked randomly from a tombola like draw.

And what a bunch they are. There’s ever so posh Ben, 30 (or is it 27?) from London. Irish beauty Caoimhe (pronounced Kee-va), 22 from Dublin. Katie Price lookalikey Corin, 29 from Stockport. Drunk on love man, Dave, 39 from South Wales. Serial gossip Govan, 21 from Leicester. Gorgeous Aussie, John James, 24 from Melbourne. Country girl (with the best accent ever), Josie, 25 from Bristol. Dancer (with a superb collection of wigs), Ife, 25 from Milton Keynes. Mario, 28 from Essex who entered as ‘the mole’ (a story for another time, non?). Noel Gallagher look a like, sporting a 6 inch eyebrow, Nathan from Yorkshire. Shabby, 24 the straightalking lesbian from London. Father of 8, ex BA soldier, Steve, 40 from Leicester. Sunshine, a whiney 24 medic student from Peterborough. Not forgetting, curvaceous and self proclaimed beauty and Beyoncé look a like, Rachael, who sadly, has left us already.

So far, we’ve had rows, blossoming romances, twists and turns like no other and of course the inevitable backstabbing and bitching. And that’s only after week one. 


So there you have it, your circus is complete. With the promise of imminent twists and even a rumour that Davina, BB royalty, is set to enter the house herself, it looks like this summer is set to be a good one. LR