Why I want to check into crazy Failte Towers
The B-list celebrities on RTE's reality show actually have to work hard, says Andrea Byrne, who is hooked
Much like a good series of Big Brother, this week at Failte Towers (pronounce that Foy-ill-teh unless you want to endure the ire of Bibi Baskin) we've seen tears, tantrums, egos, tussles and public humiliation. It has made for really decent TV.
You see sadistic though it is, there's something immensely gratifying in watching a group of desperate demi-celebs dressed in repugnant outfits, cleaning up puke, unblocking toilets, waiting hand and foot on overweight, hairy and bollock-naked old men (naturists popped into Failte Towers for a night) and other such undignified acts.
The genius of Failte Towers (FT) is that the contestants actually have to do a bit of work and what makes it even better is that they really don't like it. It's amazing the insight you're given when you take these people away from the carefully cocooned environments they're accustomed to. They're far less attractive than you'd imagine, and much more whiney. Moaning is a constant, as is pathetic child-like blubbering. Michelle Heaton started it off. Minutes later, Donna and Joe McCaul (they of Eurovision Nul points misery) sobbed loudly. Seriously though, you'd think given their tenuous claims to fame that they'd be beaming ear-to-ear at having their mugs on prime-time television.