Here we go – it’s the first eviction night and one of the Wedding Task four will get kicked out of the Big Brother house.

Paddy Power think it’s going to be Mario (1-3). In fact, they are so sure, you can already place bets on such things as what he is going to do after leaving the house, how many times he’ll mention girlfriend Lisa in his eviction speech, and who he will say he wants to win. Unsurprisingly, Lisa is the favourite for that.

Give me a break, in fact, we wish it was Lisa leaving tonight. And at 25-1, I’m putting a shiny pound on such an outcome – in hope rather than expectation, admittedly.

Steph is 2-1 and Luke an outsider at 66-1.

To be fair to Luke, who has just begun wearing long trousers, he seems really, quite genuinely, possibly sickly, nice. He might even have that “ahhh” factor that will keep him in the house until the final week.

He couldn’t possibly do anything that would ever offend anybody – apart from blow the odd raspberry. And he must be odds-on to get that all-important mothers vote. Those mothers have quite a say, you know…

But might he be a baby-faced assassin? Might he be Bugsy in disguise? He definitely has comedy value galore, might that be part of his game plan?

Keep in with everyone! Surely that’s Luke’s strategy. If everybody loves him he will never get a nomination. But we’ve seen this before. The straight-edge housemates always come a cropper in the end. Sometimes they even snap. Oh, I do hope Luke snaps one night.

Look, I’m watching him now as he stares at a bottle of milk banging a spoon against his fingers. Ooh, and now he’s making tea. “I’m just having a cup of tea Mario. That’s the way it’s going to continue tonight, drinking tea.”

Is that the actions of a child about to snap?

Oh for fuck’s sake. Do something interesting you boring, boring bastard! Fall over more, that was funny. But perhaps you meant to do that, maybe it was part of your game plan. Perhaps you are the life and soul outside of the house.

Perhaps you drink vodka in bed while wanking off to Essex Babes and Northern Girls. Kick puppies in the street and steal jazz mags from newsagents.

Perhaps, just perhaps, you’re loaded with your cream-pie gun and you’ll suddenly flip, get it out and spray the house with your creamy bullets.

Oh, then you’d be a man, my son! Or perhaps not.

By Richard Hughes