This life’s full of let-downs, we can all agree on that. I can list the major disappointments which have jaded my life. In chronological order.
Firstly, there was no Mr Frosty under the Christmas tree for about three years running despite explicitly turning the corner of page 643 in the Argos catalogue. There was no A La Carte Kitchen either (mum and dad, I haven’t forgotten).
Then there was the ‘D’ in GCSE maths. I was especially crushed because, on receiving the results over the phone, I thought my friend said I had a ‘B’, only for her to sound very perplexed when I started cheering.
Meeting Jude Law in the flesh, there’s another fail. He’s short and he’s mean and therefore struck off my ‘to do list’.
And more recently Heston’s Salted Caramel Popcorn let me down in unimaginable fashion. I was expecting fireworks from Mr Fat Duck, after all he’s the man who has created Willy Wonka-style lickable wallpaper and edible snow. You’d have thought he could elevate humble cinema nibbles with his Michelin-star touch.
But there’s the thing, great expectations are rarely met. I expected a Mr Frosty; I expected Jude Law to be suave. Disappointment could only follow.
I just won’t learn though, and my expectations surged once again on the launch night of the latest series of Celebrity Big Brother. Did you see who went in?
If you are one of the very, very many people who did not tune in, then here’s a brief round-up.
Promising contestants included bendy dance guru Louie Spencr; antiques protégé he/she Lauren Harries; supermodel on the edge Sophie Anderton; Big Ron; Les Battersby; Screech from Saved By The Bell. Yes, people, Screech.
Those clever people on Channel 5 seemingly spent their entire five-year budget securing the best CBB line-up since Pete Burns and Jackie Stallone (yeah, Jackie) disappeared through the all-seeing-eye doorway.
Yes, there were a few no marks but after launch night I trotted off to bed safe in the knowledge that my next three weeks of TV viewing was set.
And then nothing.
I watched and waited, waited and watched.
I expected squabbles, scraps and snogging.
And it’s not the programmer’s fault. Whatever dosh they had left from rounding up this bunch of desperados has been spent plying them with booze.
But to no avail.
There’s been mild amusement at Lauren looking like something out of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and mild delight at the sight of Towie’s Mario Falcone wearing very little.
But that’s it.
Sophie Anderton, who was a wreck on both Love Island and I’m A Celebrity, has been disappointinly stable. Or perhaps her botoxed-within-an-inch-of-its-life face is the ideal preventative measure.
Screech hasn’t screeched; Abz from 5ive is more dosile than Eeyore, and Louie just seems as bored the viewers
I guess the moral of the story is that I shouldn’t have such great expectations.
Not of trash TV, or of cheffy supermarket ranges.
Not of my ability at math, or meeting your idols in the flesh.
But what’s this? Christmas is coming, it’s time to make that list.
I really don’t expect. Much.