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Eleanor With Her Boots On [userpic]
by Eleanor With Her Boots On (legolass20034)
at June 6th, 2006 (03:02 pm)

current mood: chipper
current song: The Night I Lost My Head - Maximo Park

Well, I really genuinely don't know where this idea came from. I think I was half asleep. Anyway, here we are.

Title: Er, Indie Big Brother. Will probably end up as BB!fic.
Fandom: Er, billions. Massive crossover.
Pairing: We'll have to see about that.
Rating: A lotta swearing, but relatively smut-free for the moment.
Summary: All of our favourite indie boys in the Big Brother house. 'Nuff said.
Disclaimer: Big Brother and none of the boys belong to me. Honestly. Endemol, don't sue me.

A much better Big Brother is needed. Only so many relatively good looking lads and girls with straightened hair can grace our screen before getting boring.

I'm gonna start it. And the stars? Well, see below. Alphabetical order, I think.

Carl Barat - Mysterious, mumbling beauty of Dirty Pretty Things, former Libertine. Will probably be 'The Enigmatic One' of the house.
Johnny Borrell - Razorlight chappy with the big mouth. Most likely to start arguements, lots of them, but will provide good telly. Could also get in a fight with Pete. We hope.
Julian Casablancas - American import and can be a bit whiny. But pretty damn significant in the world of music. Alcohol may be a tender subject.
Peter Doherty - Former Libertine, current Babyshamble, the house could do him some good. Except going through turkey on national televison may be a bit stressful.
Keith Murray - Scientist, and necessary comic releif. Will probably be 'The Gorgeous One' that female housemates will attempt to get with. Oh, wait...
Blaine Harrison - Be-crutched Mystery Jet with good hair and nose piercing. Will serve as a catalyst for good, violent telly when his crutches are inevitably stolen/hidden.
Alex Kapranos - Chirpy Franz singer. Will hopefully offer up cooking skills, and ought to encourage sexual ambiguity amongst the others.
Alex Turner - Young, impressionable, and ripe for being torn to pieces in the house for his seemingly effortless success. Either that, get felt up by all those randy.
Paul Smith - Peculiar singer with Maximo Park. Incessant jumping, dancing and unusual hair styling will hopefully perk everyone up. Or really annoy them.
Ricky Wilson - Peculiar singer with Kaiser Cheifs. Incessant jumping, dancing and possible hobbling due to recent accident will hopefully clash very well with similar housemates.

DAY 0 – 21:12

Carl Barat enters the house first, eliciting what can only described as a whimper of fear as the doors slam shut behind him. As well as being searched from head to toe quite meticulously upon entrance, the prospect of being locked in the slinky pad that will become his prison for an undetermined amount of time has given Carl every reason to be afraid. Very Afraid.

He looks around – he’s entered the main social area, roughly oval in shape. To the left is the diary room; a little further away is a large semicircular seating area (magenta and yellow). Beanbags and other bizarre seating innovations are everywhere. To the right of the oval room, there is a kitchen area and a long dining table. Across the other side, past the glass sliding doors, across the decking and outside area, Carl catches a glimpse of the sleeping quarters. But for now, the minibar has gained his full attention. He shrugs off his trademark leather jacket, drops it on one of the innumerable bean bags that litter the place, and grabs a Stella.

The door swings open once more, causing Carl to slop beer over himself as he jumps. However, the surly face of Johnny Borrell does not have calming properties, even if Carl knows him well. Plus, he’s already pissed off at his rather over-intimate searching, no doubt. Carl is wary as he approaches, but brightens up as Johnny does. They look relatively pleased to see each other, embracing warmly, still glancing at the cameras frequently.

Carl : Well, here we are, then…

Johnny : Yep.(coughs) Wonder who’s next? (helps himself to beer)

The door opens again, and a the face of Julian Casablancas peeps round, clearly rather scared. However, as Johnny did before him, he smiles warmly as he approaches, offering hugs all round, nervously taking a beer.

Julian : S’a bit creepy, huh? (receives nods, takes a swig) Normally on these shows, don’t like, the people run around, all excited? (shrugs)

Carl : (mumbling) Yeah, but we got an image to keep up.

Johnny : The miserable ones.

The door swings open again, almost breaking off its hinges. Pete Doherty staggers in, pale, shivering. It’s pretty clear what he’s going through, having been in isolation for two weeks, according to Big Brother Rules. He squints in the bright lights, attempting a feeble wave at whoever it is he sees.

Pete : Ah – er, ‘allo? Who’zat? (totters over to the group, having taken their place on the bean bags. He drops down next to Carl) Shit! Carl! ‘Allo! (virtually pulls Carl off bean bag in bone crunching hug. After a second or two, Carl reciprocates, and a million fangirls squirm with satisfied smiles on their faces. The others look vaguely uncomfortable)

Johnny : Y’right, mate? (looking a little hostile)

Pete : (Lets go of Carl, but instead just sinks down, putting head in his lap) No, I’m fackin’ not. What you expect? I been locked away wiv nuffin for two weeks. I need booze. (Carl passes him his Stella, looking down at the shivering mess in his lap)

Carl : Don’t worry. We’ll look after you. We just…won’t talk about it. Ok? (Pete nods, sinking further into his old friend’s lap, looking as if he would sleep)

Once again, the door is pushed open, delicately, clearly with some trouble. Julian leaps up to help, only to get knocked back by the door pretty rapidly. The grinning face of Blaine Harrison appears, waving as best he can with the crutches. Everyone is slightly alarmed, not knowing entirely who he is. He hops over, rather inelegantly settling down on a polka dot beanbag, unceremoniously dumping his crutches next to him. He offers a hand to shake, looking a little excited.

Blaine : Hello! Er, I’m Blaine. Mystery Jets. Yeah! (The others now realise who he is, and give him handshakes and/or high 5s. Pete, it would seem, has fallen asleep) So, er, I’m not gonna get up again, so what they got ‘round ‘ere?

Johnny : Er, we haven’t actually looked. Anyone wanna go…?

Julian shrugs and gets up. They pretty much run to the glass door, clearly quite eager to see what there is. Camera switches to large grass area, to see the delighted little faces of Johnny and Julian as they see the treats in store.

Julian : Shit! There’s a POOL! And a fucking HOT TUB!

Johnny : Fuck that, check out the RUBBER DUCKS!! (he picks up one of around thirty flashy rubber ducks around the pool, quickly becoming distracted by the mysterious hut thing at the other end of the garden)

Julian : What is that? (Johnny opens the door, camera switches inside)

Johnny : It’s a friggin’ Love Shack! Like, all cushions and fucking candles and other shite!

Julian : We are gonna have to try this out.

Johnny : Pff, with who? No girls here-(Julian raises eyebrows)- oh. Right.

Back in the house, a certain Alex Kapranos has entered the buildings. As always, it’s all stripes and tight trousers, and after some brief greeting, he heads for the fridge

Alex : Ah’m fuckin’ starving! Aaaaand…there’s bugger all decent food. Great.

Carl : (twisting round) Nothing? I think someone in my lap might need some sustenance (Pete shifts a bit, scrunching up the Carl’s jeans like a comfort blanket)

Alex : Uh…cakes. There’s lots and lots of cupcakes. Oh, and- SHIT! They’ve got our NAMES on them!! (Alex brings out the first tray, with cakes for the first five housemates. He’s tempted to look at the names of the housemates to come, but he closes the fridge) There, one for me, one for Blaine, one for Carl, aaaaand…one for lil’ Pete. (rests the cupcake on Carl’s knee) Johnny and Julian? Where are they?

He’s interrupted by another entering housemate, a rather terrified Keith Murray. However, every camera swings in his direction, because they need some totty to get the ratings up. He looks even more scared than before. He wanders towards the others, only to be confronted by a cupcake shoved in his face by a hyperactive Alex Kapranos. It’s going to be a long evening.>

DAY 1 - 00:33

Everyone has now arrived, and happen to be warming up quite well. There haven’t been any fights yet, much to the dismay of the production company. Anyway, for the moment, everyone has made a circle around the seating area, half on the sofa, half on yet more beanbags. They’re halfway through a game of ‘I never…’ and so far, even the most outrageous ideas have caused someone to take a drink or two. So, they’re all pretty wasted already.

Alex T: Uhm, ok, ok…yeah, well. I never…had sex on the tour bus!

Everyone except Blaine drinks. The camera leaps upon the sly little glances Carl and Pete share when they down their shot. The group share a laugh, whilst Alex T and Blaine pull little sad faces.

Paul : (slurring. Who knew he would have done enough of the weird stuff mentioned to get so drunk?) Righty, ok, erm, I can say that…I have never starred in a home made porno. Or taped it, y’know. (Pete, Johnny and Carl flush beet red and take a drink reluctantly. Fangirls continue to cream jeans.)

Ricky : Oh, no fucking way. You’re joking, right? (The three just keep quiet. It’s clearly bringing some bad memories, and Pete is twitching again)

Carl : We were drunk-

Pete : -And high. Completely off our nuts.

Ricky : (aghast at the implications) Wait a sec’, what, ‘we’?-

Johnny : (leaping to his friends’ rescue)- Er, my turn! (glances outside) I never been in a hot tub on live television.

Keith : There’s a hot tub?

A general pause occurs amongst the group. Then, almost simultaneously, everyone gets up and stumbles outside as fast as they can whilst under the influence. Only Blaine and Alex K remain, Alex K having passed out at some stage, and Blaine struggling to get up.

Outside, Pete, Carl, Keith, Ricky and Alex T were the first to strip down fast enough and leap into the tub. The others decided against cramping the lucky ones, and have instead started playing drunken basketball with the rubber ducks. Alex K has woken up and is giving Blaine a hand to get up. Meanwhile, Pete is sleepy again, and is snuggling up to his new best mate Carl. In the hot tub. Mostly naked. In fact, they’re all pretty knackered, and drunken conversation doesn’t seem to stray much beyond ‘so – you alright?’

Ricky : Sooo…we all ok…?


Alex T appears to have found the Jacuzzi settings and has turned it up full blast. There is now a small typhoon in the tub, and it is now difficult to see who is who amongst the steam and bubbles. A small silence, whereas the others continue to play duck basketball.

Johnny : Bollocks! One went over the wall!

Julian : Ah, you idiot! That was the one with flowers on it!

Back in the hot tub/typhoon –

Keith - …Marcoooo…

Carl, Pete, Alex T, Ricky : …What the fuck?

Keith : Oh, seriously, you don’t know how to play Marco Polo?

DAY 1 – 02:03

Everyone is a mess. Johnny has managed to lose seven ducks in total, pissing Julian off no end, but the basketball lot have already gone to bed. However, the hot tub gang are well and truly wrinkled like prunes by now, and are clambering out to go to bed. Carl has to rattle Pete about a bit before he wakes up, but is caring for him like a mother. One by one, they totter towards the sleeping area, which appears to be divided into two rooms. However, most people are not burdened by a half asleep companion, so they take most of the beds pretty rapidly. Ricky, Johnny, Blaine and Alex K have taken four of the five beds in this room, and Carl manages to grab Pete and dump him in the one remaining bed. The camera zooms in as Carl bends down to tuck him in.

Pete : (Muttering, barely audible) Fanks, Carl…s’nice to see you again, y’know.

Carl : (Pretty much always muttering) Yeah, well. S’yer head ok? (gets a vague nod) Alright. I’m goin’ to bed, alright? (Pete thrusts his arms out for a hug, Carl hesitates, but accepts it. They stay there for about a minute. The camera couldn’t zoom in any closer if it tried. They break off at last.) Night, Pete…

Carl leaves the room at last, and falls into the last remaining bed in the other room with Alex T, Paul, Keith and Julian. Someone yells ‘GOODNIGHT’ and is met with irritated groans and random items flung at them.


Posted by: villarosie90 (villarosie90)
Posted at: June 6th, 2006 04:04 pm (UTC)


Posted by: Skinny Tie Sensurround (stickyhips___)
Posted at: June 6th, 2006 06:04 pm (UTC)
keith - loose screws

*flails* LMAO THIS IS FUCKING GENIUS. More plz?!?

Posted by: Chelsea (ceridwen16)
Posted at: June 6th, 2006 08:53 pm (UTC)

Feeling sorry for Ricky because he's nick-less but yay, pete and carl are at it again!

Been needing some all round indie-band-slash since I could no longer waste my days away re-(re-re etc)reading the Carlos Barat Diaries, where everyone happened to be getting it on with everyone else.

Can't wait for more ^_^


Posted by: ((Anonymous))
Posted at: June 7th, 2006 07:22 am (UTC)

Its me hun, your fabulous friend.

I hate you
I wanna burn your brain.
I cant believe your so effin good at writing.
I love it.
We are officially over.
Things could never have worked out between us.

Posted by: Eleanor With Her Boots On (legolass20034)
Posted at: June 7th, 2006 08:07 am (UTC)

aaaaah, hannah, get an LJ. Pleeeeeeeeeease?

It's not that great :D but thankyou for your comment :):):)

Thank you everyone! More is on the way! xxx

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