My notebook and my limit

A while ago Rob passed me the meme stick with a couple of questions deriving from Big Brother:

Tell your readers three things about you that would make you the Ideal Housemate if you were imprisoned in a house with ten random strangers for weeks on end. Then three things that’d make you the Housemate From Hell.

I’ll take them in reverse order.

I would be the Housemate from Hell, in any imaginable Big Brother-type scenario, because:

a) I hate being thrown together with strangers
b) I really hate being under surveillance
c) I really, really hate Big Brother and all its derivatives. When I first read about Zimbardo’s Stanford prison experiment I was fascinated but simultaneously disgusted and alarmed. I felt that Zimbardo’s experiment, like the Milgram obedience experiment, prompted some large and troubling questions about 20th-century American society, which we haven’t yet managed to answer. (The question of whether Milgram’s or Zimbardo’s findings related only to American society – or only to capitalist societies, or only to the twentieth century – is obviously one of the largest and most troubling.) I don’t know what Big Brother is if it’s not the Stanford experiment, fine-tuned and played for laughs.

Ideal Housemate is going to be a bit of a sticky wicket, in the circumstances, but let’s give it a go.

a) Sometimes what you really want from a housemate is that they leave you alone. This suggests that a really good housemate would really leave you alone, for hours or even days at a time, occuping themself instead by reading a book somewhere quiet.
b) I tell you what I can do: I can keep my head when all about me, etc. When people start flapping I’m quite good at staying calm and working out what actually needs to be done. This isn’t always popular.
c) Conversely, I can flap – sometimes to the point of losing it completely – when those about me are perfectly calm. Which, I don’t know, might have a certain entertainment value if nothing else.

On balance I think ‘Housemate from Hell’ has it.

Meanwhile, Philippe has passed me the ‘eight random things’ meme. Here goes:

1) When I was 12 I fell off a cliff I was attempting to climb and landed headfirst. I was unconscious for 36 hours.

2) I once went to France at GMTV’s expense; one morning in June 2004 I appeared on screen for approximately 30 seconds, standing on the beach at Arromanches and talking about the landings. I was credited as a ‘military historian’. (I’d specifically asked them not to credit me as a military historian.) My travelling expenses came to between three and four times my fee.

3) My father’s father was a miner; my mother’s mother was in domestic service. I get a bit peeved when people deny the relevance of class.

4) I have no knee reflex; my knee does not jerk. This was first noticed after 1) and may be a result.

5) Raymond Williams liked my poetry.

6) I used to be a regular contributor to some Usenet groups, in particular alt.folklore.urban, soc.history.what-if and comp.software.year-2000; at one time contributors to c.s.y2k periodically gave their opinion on how bad it would be, using the ‘Edwards Scale’. (Most of us were miles out.)

7) I know Cobol.

8) I also know French, Spanish and Italian, although I can’t hold up a conversation in any of them.

There you have it. As for who’s next, as flattering as it was to get an actual nomination, I think I’m going to take the easy way out and offer a general invitation. If you feel like telling us your own eight random personal facts, have at it.

Update Will writes:

An ‘honest’ reality television would be self-defeating; you might as well stare at your own flatmates for 45 minutes. Instead, reality television distorts, manipulates, refers to itself, because the objectifying properties of television equipment are brought within the frame of entertainment.

What is worse is that reality television not only deliberately plays with form, it laughingly denigrates content. In the same way that Heat magazine revels in using telephoto lenses to reduce film stars to specimens of celulite, reality television uses television equipment to turn people, famous or not, into emotional wrecks. Loss of emotional self-control is the leveller and main spectacle, with rage as the most sought-after. Be it on Big Brother, cooking programmes, home improvement or whatever else, it is the tears, the shouting the breakdown or – yes – the storming out from a photo session over a tiara, that bankroll this cultural vacuum.

So maybe I would be a ‘good’ housemate after all. Wot larx, eh?

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One Trackback

  1. By Burningbird [pingback] on 16 July 2007 at 16:25

    […] people who write on real technology, or gentle stories, postpretty pictures, write about their cat, housemates from hell, inert gases, or when they can, on what they want, I would go mad. At a minimum, I would just […]

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