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The Sun
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Sun
How Britain went Big Brother bonkers 25 years ago as ten ordinary people changed face of TV – so what happened to them?
A SKATEBOARDING nun, a pantomime villain who became Britain's most hated man and a cheeky, muscleman builder. All thrown into a dystopian world of surveillance, with the most instantly recognisable theme tune of modern times. 13 13 13 Exactly 25 years ago (yes, really) Big Brother, a televisual experiment that would transform broadcasting for ever, was launched on a once-bold Channel 4. Imported from Holland, this novel formula would pit an initial ten housemates against one another in a constantly monitored compound. And, within days, our nation and many parts of its media were hooked on this fresh Orwellian TV triumph. The internet had started to take a chokehold on our lives, Princess Diana was dead and the Nineties hangover kicked in, with newspapers and the public searching for something new to fill our lives. This never-before-seen social experiment would play a starring role in killing off the Cool Britannia movement that had swept through the nation and its media during the previous decade. And on the evening of July 18, 2000, this group of strangers — chosen from 40,000 applicants — exploded on to our plasma screens from a heavily fortified East London house. As they lived alongside cameras scrutinising their every move, the country, in increasing numbers, could not resist a nose and a poke at these everymen and women competing for the £70,000 prize money. Big Brother certainly dominated my life as the Millennium Bug failed to materialise and the 21st century's first summer dawned. Hi-tech awakening As the then Showbiz Editor of The Sun, I was immediately drawn to this addictive, creative innovation and spotted its potential to spark media debate. And I felt we should try to take ownership of this visual phenomenon and give it unrivalled coverage. Celebrity Big Brother's Sexiest Moments! When we called ourselves ' The official paper of Big Brother ', it prompted a series of irate calls from Channel 4 HQ. As coverage ballooned, so did the newspaper's sales and website traffic, with the average TV audience rating also rising to 4.5million. Britain was growing obsessed with a buff Scouse builder called Craig, a posh bloke called Nick, later Nasty Nick (Copyright: The Sun), Anna the nun and lentil-munching, yogic hippie Sada, among others. All packaged together with the soothing Geordie lilt of narrator Marcus Bentley, histrionic host Davina McCall and a banging theme tune conjured up by the wizard fingers of superstar DJ Paul Oakenfold. Online forums were ignited by forensic analysis of the show, while this paper splashed with the disparate household's twists and turns, relegating coverage of the stuttering Britpop bands and pushing them down the news agenda. The era-defining Big Brother inmates may not have possessed the creative talents of our celebrated, most recent working-class artistic wave. But they came from the same towns and cities, and in their own way, certainly in the first series, embodied a generation of normal people with a curiosity and drive for success and fortune. Big Brother is such a well-trodden formula now but we must remind ourselves of its originality, its technological innovation and deviousness, aped by Love Island and triggering a celebrity spin-off which never measured up to the OG. 13 13 To be able to interact and determine outcomes of a show online and through voting gave the public a feeling of power and control at their fingertips, as if millions of us were collectively directing a show. That hadn't happened before. It was a visual and hi-tech awakening and we felt like we were glimpsing a dystopian future. It was perhaps an uncanny insight into the modern world which we inhabit today, where we ourselves are continually monitored and scrutinised by CCTV and tracked online. In later series, contestants knew the drill and came in as rehearsed and unlikeable wannabes with agendas and agents, focused on carving out media careers and boosting numbers on their social platforms. But in series one, there was a boundless innocence and unknown; a ragtag bunch of unsuspecting people thrown together randomly. That's what made it electric. The first-wave Big Brother collective was a diverse celebration of all that was great about modern Britain, despite sneering cynics claiming the opposite. And Britons have always loved twitching their net curtains, peering over fences and gossiping. Big Brother gave us the ability to do that 24/7 via a revolutionary live feed, forums and episodes which were edited and screened within 24 hours. It felt so live, in and of the moment. And the drama of witnessing unscripted manipulation and argument was breathtaking and unprecedented. Edges of the seat were fully occupied. We all assumed that the box office moment would be if some of the contestants had live sex on television. The original Dutch show had sparked national debate and spiked media scrutiny when a couple slipped under the covers. There was one moment when grainy monochrome images of ultimate victor Craig Phillips and Claire Strutton in bed together emerged, but it wasn't definitive, although it did prompt the memorable headline 'Duvet do it or not?'. However, in the build-up to the show's premiere, there had been a key event — when its producer Ruth Wrigley noticed that, despite the diversity of the selected contestants, something was amiss. She recalled: 'As we got close to signing off on the cast, we realised that the one thing we were missing was a white, heterosexual, posh male. 'Nick was our last choice and we weren't really that sure. He ticked a box. Which goes to show how little control you really have!' Hysterical frenzy Enter former City broker Nick Bateman, who was televisual TNT and whose presence transformed the programme. As his scheming, Machiavellian strategy was revealed — attempting to influence housemates' votes by showing them names on pieces of paper — he became the most hated man in Britain, for a sunny week or two, at least. In a hysterical frenzy of speculation, there were also unsubstantiated claims that Nick had smuggled a Motorola flip-phone into the house in his undercrackers and was receiving outside intelligence. Myself and colleague Derek Brown suffered logistical headaches and high expense while masterminding the hiring of a miniature helicopter to drop leaflets into the compound, encouraging housemates to evict Nick. It was all rather silly and, these days, would be so much cheaper and simpler with a drone. Nick was challenged by his fellow housemates about cheating and he was removed from the house by producers after 34 days, with Craig dubbing his strategy 'a very dirty plot'. In retrospect, it wasn't exactly the crime of the century but that moment of confrontation was the most intoxicating TV of our lives. Alas, the show was never quite as captivating after the pantomime villain's exit. Nick's soundbite utterances of 'I made a mistake' and 'If you live by the sword, you die by the sword' became engrained in popular culture and mimicked in pubs and offices across the land. Scouse builder Craig, then 28, gave away his prize money to his friend with Down's syndrome who needed a heart and lung transplant. But he would not take part again, admitting in a recent interview: 'Over the years, people would stop me in the street and say, 'I've applied for Big Brother, what advice would you give me?'. "And I would look at them and go, 'Don't do it!'. 'We'd gone in not really expecting much, but we all got a lot from it. There was no social media then. 'But today, you need to be strong enough to accept you could come out very badly from it. It's a dangerous position to be in. Fame and fortune do not go hand in hand.' Not long ago, I interviewed Nick from his new home in Australia, and he reflected: 'Late-night Channel 4 was kind of what you watched when you got back from the pub, drunk. 'It was an experiment and I didn't think anything would come of it because I didn't think anyone would find it interesting watching ten ordinary British people, who didn't know each other, sitting around in a house. 'There was never an urge to be famous. No one had any idea and that was what made the first series unique. 'Nobody had aspirations to be a magazine writer or an Instagram model. That's where our show had that sweet puerility. 'Emotional terrorism' 'I'd realised this was a gameshow with prize money. How I played the game, in retrospect, was very innocent but caused a furore. 'I was just using emotional terrorism to further my stay in the house and to win the money.' Following his eviction, there was a media feeding frenzy for the now infamous Nick's exclusive story. 13 I secured an exorbitant deal after fierce negotiations with his new-found agent and we were soon holed up together in a hotel in Bagshot, Surrey. In a haze of late-night cigarettes and alcohol, we talked about Nick's boarding school education, his family and his new status as Britain's Mr Nasty. His revelations were splashed across the front pages over the following days and sales went up by north of 100,000 a day as Britons devoured the words of the nation's most detested - and most famous — man at that moment. It's neither hyperbole nor exaggeration to suggest the country had gone Big Brother bonkers. The media circus was absolutely unprecedented and would have made George Orwell lunge for the gin. But it showed the powerful impact of the format. Coincidentally, around that time, I had been invited to the glittering Leicester Square premiere of Guy Ritchie's riotous gangster film Snatch and reckoned it might be a wheeze to bring Nick out of hiding to accompany me. We arrived in style in a chauffeur-driven SUV, he clad in a Sun baseball cap, which was the least he could do after the money we had made him. As we lingered in the foyer, Brad Pitt, Guy — about to marry Madonna at the time — and footballer-turned-actor Vinnie Jones came over to meet Nick. And The Sun's expert photographer Dave Hogan captured a moment in time, when A-list celebrity collided with reality TV's new-found superstar. This was a symbolic image, encapsulating a snatched, fleeting clash of popular culture. Hollywood's elite knew the identity of a dazed former City boy, who had been unknown and jettisoned into a televisual laboratory only weeks before. The image graced Page One the following day under the headline: ' Who's With Nasty Nick? ' It cemented Big Brother's status as the pre-eminent, cutting-edge entertainment innovation of the age, which thrust reality television on to the front pages of Britain's media alongside Hollywood royalty. 13
ABC News
30-06-2025
- ABC News
Murder charge laid over Joshua Bishop's disappearance
Joshua Bishop was last seen by his housemates at their Lalor Crescent property on May 27. (Supplied: Victoria Police) ( Supplied: Victoria Police )
The Independent
17-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Kim Woodburn calls Celebrity Big Brother housemates ‘two-faced' in resurfaced video
A video of Kim Woodburn 's explosive fight in the Celebrity Big Brother house has resurfaced following her death at 83 after a short illness. In January 2017, Woodburn gained notoriety on Celebrity Big Brother after verbally attacking fellow contestants. The conflict peaked when Woodburn accused Jamie O'Hara of being an 'adulterer', leading to her removal from the house by security. During the argument, Woodburn labelled her housemates a 'chicken-livered' group. Watch the video in full above.
ABC News
09-06-2025
- ABC News
Community mourns Queensland teen Phoebe Bishop
Hundreds have gathered in the Queensland town of Gin Gin for a vigil for 17-year-old Pheobe Bishop, who police allege was murdered by her housemates.
News.com.au
29-05-2025
- Business
- News.com.au
Local: Kensington offers speed dating for housemates in bid to tackle roommate horror stories, rental crisis
Tenants desperate to escape Melbourne's rental crisis are being offered an unexpected solution: speed dating for housemates. In a city where one corporate landlord has already offered to waive lease-breaking fees for tenants who decide to shack up with their neighbour, a new build-to-rent operator is planing events to get like-minded tenants partnered up. With the housing crisis and rising rents driving a growing number of Victorians to seek out flatmates, the novel idea of a speed dating-style event was drummed up for the new tenants-only Local: Kensington complex. People looking for the perfect person to share their life with, romance not included, will be given the chance to connect with a group of like-minded individuals in June. Developer Local's marketing general manager Megan Hondromatidis said after an initial online registration, matchmakers would group people with similar interests and needs for scheduled events where they tour the building — then move on to dinner and drinks. 'It will be helping to break the ice, so it's not all just people having awkward conversations,' Ms Hondromatidis said. 'And we will have targeted questions to help them get to know each other. 'Ultimately, we are trying to provide the best experience possible. And hopefully we can mitigate the rental pain points.' Topics at the events dubbed 'Housemate Huddles' are expected to include: how pet friendly you are, whether you're a night or morning person, how you like your home furnished and what your typical day looks like. The goal is to then find someone else to compliment your lifestyle, and minimise the risk of a messy break-up as you fight over custody of the apartment and the Netflix account because one of you gets up at 5am and the other hasn't seen the sun rise in seven years. Ms Hondromatidis said while it would be interesting to see who would attend, they were expecting new arrivals to Melbourne, those looking to move out of their parents' home and others wanting to try sharehousing out for the first time. Specialty women-only nights and queer-friendly events will also be a part of the schedule. Ms Hondromatidis added that with the completion of new build-to-rent projects creating short-term waves of new apartments for the rental market, Melbourne was now primed for more similar events. The 477-apartment complex is the first build-to-rent complex by developer Local, but they have additional sites on their way around Melbourne — and are aiming to have some launched, most likely with similar events for tenants, interstate in the next year or two. 'I don't think house sharing is going anywhere, so I think we will start here and see where we go,' Ms Hondromatidis said. The building's two-bedroom apartments starting from $822 a week and three-bedroom offerings from $1258 a week. Amenities around the building include a cinema, fitness studio, working hub and residents' lounge with its own kitchen. Apartments are furnished with kitchen and laundry appliances, as well as split-system heating and cooling. The build-to-rent complex is very pet friendly, encourages residents to paint walls and live there long term. Events will be held at the 348 Macaulay Rd, Kensington, building on June 17, 18 and 24. Earlier this year, build-to-rent developer Greystar announced an offer to allow tenants who found a romantic partner or their ideal flatmate among their neighbours to make their relationship official and move in together — without a lease break fee. Considered a novel solution to Melbourne's rental crisis, build-to-rent development is defined as a corporate group that creates a new building with the intent of offering it as a long-term rental site. The system is common in other nations, particularly the United States of America. It has had significant backing as part of Victoria's housing solution from both state and federal governments, but remains a small fraction of Melbourne's rental supply.
