Big Brother

Books on living with distressing illnesses tend to suggest that the conditions will eventually become more manageable: there may even be days when patients forget they are suffering. And, unexpectedly, this turns out to be the case with the most virulent form of reality TV.

Who would imagine it would ever be possible to forget that Big Brother (Channel 4) was even on? But during six weeks of tsunami news stories – swine flu, MPs' expenses, Michael Jackson – the 2009 intake of residential exhibitionists have struggled to make an impact even in the tabloid papers which traditionally have carried a risk of accidental coverage for those who have carefully been avoiding the show.

But a grim sense of TV reviewer duty led me, finally, to tune in this week. The first shock is that this year's competitors seem to be getting their TV criticism in first: there are actually house-mates called Half-wit and Dog-face. Research reveals that this was a result of a re-naming challenge which is one of the ways in which the makers are trying to keep their nine-year-old format fresh.

Indoor headgear also seems to be a feature this year. Whereas real celebrities often use this strategy in a bid to go unrecognised, it seems unlikely these wannabes would risk this outcome, so we have to assume that the titfers were a bid to stand out. The moral tone of the home does not seem to have improved either: Marcus has a propensity for spending all day discussing when and where he might next masturbate.

Is anyone still watching this exhausted format? Figures show that a stubborn 1.8 million viewers still are, although the producers are showing signs of desperation. On Tuesday night, they condemned three contestants to remain silent, which, again, felt more like TV criticism than good viewing. When these people were judged to have peeped, they were put up for eviction.

This clear interference in the electoral process suggests doubts about the way things are going. Starved of its usual publicity, Big Brother feels in big bother.