[James]

...here I am at ten to nine, tired and bedraggled, standing in a long unmoving queue, in the hope that somebody will pick me out of the snaked throng on the basis of my appearance alone. If anyone does, it’ll be a paramedic.

Oh yes, and it’s freezing. Every time somebody jostles me in the queue, a bit of me falls off. “Sorry!” “That’s OK. It was just an ear that time.” “That’s a relief. Last time that happened to me I lost my left arm.” “Really? Apparently there’s some guy further back walking around looking for his torso.” “This is Big Brother. Would queue members refrain from shedding body parts. We’re picking up the cleaning bill for this, you know.”

Anyway, anyway. Big Brother is in town. It’s the first date of their nationwide tour and the only one in Scotland, and thousands have arrived at the Corn Exchange from all over the nation to embark upon the long and arduous road to fame, superstardom and possibly even a show on Sky One. In order to infiltrate the entire frightening mechanism, I’ve disguised myself as one of them. My mission, which I had absolutely no choice in accepting, is to meet some of them and understand this peculiar phenomenon, whilst trying to get as far as I can before I run out of body parts...

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