"Gossip columns, magazines and websites are going to lose a great chunk of their content, and the men's magazines are going to lose half of their pin-up girls."

Tim Brunero

The thing about the end of Big Brother, of course, is that it is also the end of me. Eye will be, no more. In a bizarre way, that makes me somewhat more akin to the BB boys and BB girls, who now grieve - almost violently - on forumboards across the nation, than you would think. I expected the emotion among the fans - I, of all people, would never underestimate the emotion of Big Brother world (it's one of the reasons I chose it) - but, even though it was no "shock", it was amazing to behold some of it, scrolling through the forumboards, today. "I must HOPE! I must HOPE!!" one fan chanted, clinging to a futile mantra. "What am I going to do with my life?" asked another, so unaware of how blatant she was being, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It meant something to these people. Through it, they had lived. That was the dream for the audience - quite separate to the dreams of the housemates: they would live, vicariously, and they would have a place, an avenue, through which to connect to and express their lives and emotions. And, yes, in that, they ultimately connected to their darker emotions - their fears, their insecurities and ignorance - through a "reality" that was incredibly corrupted by commercial agendas and a big business that was constantly exploiting them; that's what made it so wrong, as the phenomenon grew on. But what a bond. They had become addicted to Big Brother - to the meaning they make within it - and they, quite obviously, are shattered. A part of them is to die.