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I don't think Maxwell has any idea about girls in the slightest. I also think that Sam has only taken up with Maxwell because as everybody here has alread said (I'm always late with the comment) she's just as insecure as Moonpig, and has suddenly found herself propelled spotty-bottom down (if the rumour in the house is to be believed) into the role of utterly devastatingly normalgirlness.
I also feel a bit sorry for her because of this. Thinking you're special and then finding out you're completely ordinary must be far, far worse than thinking you're ordinary and happily finding out you're fairly fascinating to quite a lot of the general public, which is what happened to the lovely Jade.
As for Stary Mary, I've already written what I think about that in the Temple but I think I might re-post it here. (And can I just say that the fact that there's a Big Brother thread in the Temple rocks most wonderfully. )
(From the Temple) On Mary:
I have not yet made my mind up one way or the other, although admittedly the whole arriving with a broomstick and big hooded cloak thing was a completely ridiculous thing to do; the littlest Harry Potter vote having gone to bed a good few hours beforehand.
However.
Regardless of whether Mary is or isn't what she claims to be, one must consider this:
Witchy Mary person:
Dear Gods, Goddesses and Godforms, spirits and deities, random manifestations and mythical winged beasts, please let me perform all my most intimate and personal rituals on national TV, (including that aura thing that I saw on Jane Goldman's psychic programme) and let me be watched by a thousand trillion teenagers all hooked on 'Buffy', 'Charmed', 'Sabrina the teenage witch' (and that other godawful programme made in America depicting a girl with Satan's soul who is desperate to find the Holy-goodness we all know lives deep inside her.)
Oh Gods, Goddesses (etc, etc,): Let me be the one to connect with them in a way no Big Brother contestant yet has, simply because the world is turning to TV dramas and children's books with a Pagan bent, and because all female teenagers everywhere know how to make a love-spell courtesy of their 'little book.'
My Gods, Goddesses (etc, etc,): Please let me scare them witless with my doll-pins and my black eye-liner, let me fool them with my love for Gothic music even though I have never heard the song "She Sells Sanctuary," let me perplex them with my silent, stary looks and let me help them wet their pants with the excitement of seeing a 'real live witch' who can do real live spells and stuff, actually here on actual live television.
My dearest Gods, Goddesses (etc, etc,): Hear my plea. Do not let me waver from my task, no matter how many people call me fake, stupid or 'not-even-kooky' because I am the chosen one. And in the name of all things black-cloak-like, candley, and that five-sided star thingy which I know has something to do with it; I will win that one hundred thousand pounds. For I have even been to Glastonbury once and my Mum and I actually walked up the Tor and back which is quite a long way.
***
Mary's plan is fucking brilliant, if you ask me. |
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