Jordan Meets 'Horny Mystery Man' in Secret Hut before Bush Telegraph Rant In I'm A Celebrity

Innocent viewers of smash hit show I'm a celebrity get me out of here only ever see part of what really goes on in the Jungle. Tell us news you say. I shall do just that!

Secret Hut Meetings with Horny Stranger

Today amid fears that Jordan would be leaving the Camp, disgusted by the viewers' terrorist attitude towards her voting her for every bush-tucker trial, I can reveal that all the celebs have been visiting an unseen secret hut in the jungle and have been ensconced in intense conversation with a mysterious dark, reddish stranger. This intrepid reporters was able to gain access unseen to the ICGOH set and set up microphones to hear what went on.

"'ere, you, you fuckin' old Devil, this wasn't what I bargained for, I came 'ere for closure din' I, not all this shit!"

Good evening Jordan, or is it Katie tonight? I have to ask you know, because even I can't tell sometimes. You have become so...., how can I say it? Somewhat, divided in your identity. Sit down and pull yourself together you silly girl.

'I've had all sorts in my gob says Queen of Tarts

"Wot they pickin' on me for, the bastards? Kangaroo cocks, I don't mind; I've had to put all sorts in me gob to get where I am. I call it ''casting couch Caviar in the business."

How colourful. Now, just what is the problem my dear?

"I came on this show for a proper reason. I wanted to sort meself out after Peter gettin' jealous of me 'orses and me dressage teacher and the divorce and everyfink. I wanted to reinvent meself, put it all behind me and just get on wiv lookin' after me kids and be loved by the public. And now all this! Seems to me you ain't keepin' up wiv your part of the bargain!"

Well, Katie, my dear. Firstly, I have to say that I am not guilty of such a profoundly wounding accusation. Let me explain and I think you'll see it my way in the end.

Look at it from the public's point of view. Here you are, successful, model, er.. literary figure, television star, extremely talented horsewoman, celebrity mum of the year, woman of the year, pop er..singer and everything else that you might like the poor misguided masses to perceive you to be.

You 'earn' astronomical sums with apparently little effort for being just who you are and I think that the people see, that unlike many, you are a very astute young woman, with a certain type of ruthless intellect.

But, even though they like you, even though they buy your er... books and the magazines you appear in, they do, I'm afraid, rather resent that you get paid for doing, shall we say, very little more than being 'yourself'. So here in the Celebrity Jungle they are just making sure that you really earn your keep to their satisfaction.

I'd do anything for my kids

"But I have to do it for Harvey and the kids! I'd do anything for them! By the way could you stare at my tits, your eyes give me the creeps."

As you wish.

Ah, the children. As indeed I know my dear, or else why would we be having this conversation? But I think a little recapitulation might be in order at this juncture. Just to clarify matters in your mind, it does help, I wouldn't lie to you.

If you remember Katie, you were well on your way up before we even met. Page three, lads' mags and all the rest and then, calamity, the 'hand of God' stepped in and fucked you up. Literally.

I wish I knew how he does it, it's me who's supposed to be the bad one! What happened? Well, like all girls seeking fame and fortune you made a decision. Remember your motto at the time? The would-be WAG's motto?

"For fame and fortune fuck a footballer."

Once again, very colourful but right! The five 'Fs'. The trouble is, that most footballers are tainted. It's the genes you see. I have no idea how God did it but it seems that they would all be a bunch of insipient criminals, rapists. murderers and monsters if their energies weren't diverted to fast cars, football, and a few other f-words. I'll tell you, you probably got off pretty lightly. However, I'm digressing a little.

Then little Harvey came along, with all his problems, poor little mite. But, that's what happens when you mix your genes with those of footballers. A young girl, bright future ahead of her, and then that! I can understand your desperation. Weeping in that hospital room, what had you done to deserve that? Well, nothing actually, that's how God works, nothing mysterious about it, talk about pure evil!

'What am I going to do?' You shouted to God, but, as usual, no answer. No question of not loving Harvey was there. He was yours. How though were you going to continue a demanding and developing career and look after that beautiful little boy too?

That was when we first met wasn't it. Well, I decided we should, after first speaking with the Grim Reaper and asking him if he and Harvey had an appointment in the near future. He said 'not on my list guvnor', so that's when I thought we should have our little careers advice session.

" 'Ere, by the way why couldn't Harvey have caught pig flu while I was here, I could have had a mercy dash or something, that would have got them on my side!"

Sorry, that's God I'm afraid. I can't do death, destruction, mayhem and unfairness as well as him so I don't even try; I stick to careers advice. But don't complain, it all served to work up a bit of publicity for the Jungle appearance didn't it?

"S'pose so."

To get back. Well we had our little chat and it all started to happen, thanks to the decisions you made after weighing up the alternatives I gave you. Remember? I said you could be a till girl in a supermarket, a groom in a stables, a dress shop assistant; all fine careers for the struggling mother of a handicapped child. Living with your mum, getting by on the minimum wage, forever contemplating suicide, yet, not without its moral rewards. Remember your religious instruction lessons at school?

I then pointed out the other alternatives that you already knew well anyway, having got on to the minor celebrity circuit. It's amazing how baring one's bosoms can open doors. So you made your choice. To continue, more of the same only better. It was the best you could do for Harvey. We made no bargains, you sold me nothing. Although I do wish...

"Wot?"

It's just that er... your taste in men. I did try to do you a favour with Peter last time you were in the jungle because I do like you. There he was nice, gentle type, I thought you would like him. Just to keep your feet on the ground a little. A touch of ordinariness, a man of mediocre talent and intelligence but well-meaning nevertheless. You had a husband just like those that all your fans have, they could identify with you even more, sympathise even. I was only doing you a favour, but you had to go and entrain him in the star rigmarole. He would have gladly stayed at home all day with the kids. But I see the lure of the Gorilla has got the better of you again.


I had to dump Peter says Gorilla loving Tart

"I had to dump him, the fans were losing interest there's only so much of our home life they can take anyway someone like me has to date musclemen. He can't complain, he's done well out of it and the divorce should kick start his career again. Anyway don't forget I done all this, I made the decisions not you, I've written books..."

Katie dear, I feel that I must disabuse you of a misapprehension. I have little real interest in your soul personally. If you have entered into literary circles, it was only a device on my part to claim the souls of some washed up writers desperate to do anything for a bit of work. The souls I claim are many but they are mainly anonymous. I don't go public on the famous ones unless they start getting too big for their boots, like Tony and Cherie Blair. I wouldn't want to add you to the list. I can't, because the decisions you made were yours not mine. I even think you knew what you were going to do before you met me.

So far you have not sold your soul to me you have sold it to the public. That is why they are making you do all those trials. They want to see you really earn your money; how low you will sink and what you will not do for it. Walk out and see what happens. Stay and see what happens. What will be will be.

"Fuck 'em fuck you too you red goatee-bearded bastard, I'll never sell my soul to you!"


Bugner so punch dunk he forgot to save for a pension

Katie, Katie! They all do in the end! If I so wish. Look at that fat cleaning woman. Look at the two queer painter/decorators. Look at the rest of them. Desperation personified. Sold their souls for the vagaries of fashion. When the fashion for voyeurism of the disgusting way some people live, fancy food, medieval castle decor in council houses and all the rest of the tawdry, ephemeral hokum they peddle dies, so do they. They are addicted to celebrity now, they can't go back to the hum drum existence they led before. Unless they sell their souls to get by. Can you really see Kim going back to ironing clothes in a dress shop or as a live-in cleaner? Not now she has someone to do all that for her.

"But Joe Bugner was a successful boxer!"

True, true! Although success is a relative thing in such a sport. But what do expect to happen with somebody whose brain is so mixed up, having stopped so many punches. Too stupid even to put enough away for a decent pension. Now he's prepared to eat shit for a few grand.


You will NOT have me!

"But you won't have my soul! You won't you bad bastard! I'm my own woman. A successful businesswoman."

One day, one day, my dear. In the small hours, when you are alone and tearful and wondering what happened. When the taste for caviar has evaporated. With all that money, and little Harvey gone, as he most surely will be one sad day. You will be desperate, wondering why you feel so bad, suicidal, wondering why you didn't go for the cashier's job at Tesco instead. Believe me dear Katie, I shall be there at your side, with an offer you can't refuse.

But don't fret, it would have ended the same even as a till girl, the same dark night, the same tears, no money, no Harvey. Wondering why all that sacrifice had led to that small sad coffin. All that effort expended. What is dignity worth? What is the use of it all? I would still be there by your side but with the lure of couch caviar.

"But how can I avoid that? Is everything lost?"

Look. Oh dammit why am I such a bloody great softy? Look, don't tell those puny little empty souls out there in the queue to waiting to see me what I am going to tell you.

"Wouldn't give them the time of day if I wasn't stuck here with them."

Atta girl! Get back out there. Remember who you sold your soul to. Eat the shit they want you to eat. Pay your dues. Take the cash they give you, put it with the rest, invest it wisely and don't gamble. Then when you leave this God-forsaken place, retire, open some stables, buy a string of horses and then let them forget you. You'll be happy doing something that you are really good at. You'll have real satisfaction, real success. Don't market your own perfume or lingerie and don't get religion, it's cheap and not worthy of you. You'll really be in heaven! Now off you go dear, I have others, less fortunate ones, waiting outside and then I have some desperate flood victims in the Lake District to attend to.