During the First World War, soldiers would often endure days of warfare in the most atrocious conditions imaginable, and emerge from it all having gained or lost just a few yards for their team.

Which is a hideously overblown and offensively inappropriate metaphor for this year’s I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here, the show that last night ended its interminable run on NBC. Who has covered themselves in glory? Who has covered themselves in shame? Who has apparently covered themselves from head-to-toe in the offcuts from a leather warehouse? (Hint: it’s not Holly, it’s not Torrie, and it’s Janice). Find out after the jump.

We can’t tell you how long we’ve waited for this (our instinct says it’s been about 1,800 years, but logic dictates that maybe it was a bit less than that). Either way: Yay!  Because this is the last week of IACGMOOH. No more of John Salley‘s quite frightening competitiveness. No more of Speidi‘s televised egowank. No more of Torrie Wilson‘s glorious boobies in a wet camo swimsuit. No more… wait, what? This is the end of our weekly viewings of Torrie’s silicon mines? We have to survive on the 38,812 Google images of “Torrie Wilson swimsuit” until she gets herself naked in Playboy in, ooh, three minutes or so? Curses!

Okay then, before we give you the news you already know, let’s take a quick look at this year’s most memorable contestants:

Speidi (Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt): insufferable tosstards. They came, they annoyed, they left. They came back, they annoyed again, they got scared, they left again. They got verbally assaulted by Al Roker, they came back again again,they smugged through last night’s interview, they hopefully were buried somewhere in the Costa Rican jungle.

Janice Dickinson: leather-faced, sandpaper-voiced harridan. Oh Janice, you sure know how to make friends in difficult situations. You alone know that when a bunch of people are thrown into a tropical jungle with limited food supplies, the best way to make yourself popular is to steal their food, refuse to do any work and just sit around squawking like a tasered chicken.

Sanjaya Malakar: peacock-haired singing ninny. When we first saw that the boy who spent an improbably long time on American Idol had got this gig, we assumed he would be chased from the jungle within a week by a pack of monkeys desperate for the secret to his preposterous hairstyling. How wrong we were (the monkeys, in fact, became fascinated with trying to climb Janice, who they’d mistaken for an ancient oak). Sanjaya turned out to be quite the stoic little jungle dweller. In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise: the lad looks just like Mowgli after all.

Lou Diamond Phillips: hammer-faced pain lover and worthy I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here winner. Lou started the show as a has-been actor, trying to start a career revival. He ended it as a has-been actor with thirteen thousand mosquito bites, trying to start a career revival. Never afraid to man up to a challenge, and always ready to tell Janice that she is a totally unlikable leatherfaced skank, Lou won the hearts of the voting public.

And is currently holding them in a safe place, their return dependent on someone agreeing to make La Bamba II: Rock n Roll But With Guns ‘n’ Bombs ‘n’ Shit.

So there you are. Another year passes, another person you vaguely remember from that film twenty years ago is about to be on the cover of all the world’s magazines for a week before shuffling, embarrassed, back to the High School Reunion Special Guest circuit.

Have strength, dear viewers: it shall return. And hopefully with someone better able to approximate a real human being than Myleene Klass. Hmm, what’s C3PO up to these days?

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The Americans, having nicked IASGMOOH from us, have failed to understand what makes the thing watchable: instead of cheeky Ant and Dec, they’ve got Myleene Klass hosting. A woman who donates sap, rather than blood.

Desperate as we are to witness talentless unknowns humiliate themselves on the telly, we genuinely can’t wait for the news season of America’s Got Talent. That doesn’t start until June 23rd, but NBC love us so much they’ve provided a little bit of televisual methadone, pending the arrival of the heroin shipment.

After the jump, we introduce you to one half of the stale celebrity idiots. Today: the boys.

The initial teams have been formed by reference to contestants’ sexual organs. You’ve got boobs and a froo-froo? Girls’ team. You own a todger? Boys’ team for you.

Which caused some confusion when it came time to allocate Janice Dickinson, but the producers have gone with ‘lady’.

Lou Diamond Phillips. Star of La Bamba, Young Guns and Extreme Justice. Show Highlight: beating a crooked politician’s wife in a game of ‘Eat The Tarantula’. Little Known Fact: LDP rarely smiles because, in accord with ancient Cherokee custom, his teeth were replaced with eagles’ beaks when he was a child.

John Salley. Apparently used to play in the NBA, which is some kind of American netball league. Show Highlight: sorry, big John, you were so inoffensive – and we care so little for American sportspeople – that we failed at any point to register your presence. Take it as a compliment: it means you weren’t the kind of horrible little wanksplash who gets voted into having to drink snake venom from a lizard’s arsehole. Speaking of which…

Spencer Pratt. Vainglorious puddle of sleaze from MTV’s The Hills. Show Highlight: Was given a plate with a stick insect on it and challenged to eat the beastie quicker than the fat little lady from the other team could. Decided to ram the insect, and the decorative flower it was sat on, into his mouth and gagged a bit. Thus he achieved the almost impossible and made himself look a bigger tool than The Hills did. Little Known Fact: scientists use Spencer as a fixed marker on the “Self-Regarding Celebrity Turds” scale. He lies exactly halfway between Chris Martin and The Other Ones From Coldplay.

Stephen Baldwin. No, not the one from 30 Rock. No, no, no, not him out of Backdraft, either. Stephen, lots of tattoos, starred in The Flintstones In Viva Rock Vegas. Okay, you’ve got him now. Seems like he’ll be good value here, though. Show Highlight: being bitten by a ‘bullet ant’ seconds before going live on air for the Trauma Tank. Manned it out like a true pro.

Sanjaya Malakar. Oh, go on, you do. Him with the daft hair off of American Idol last year. Show Highlight: when challenged to eat a huge chunk of iguana’s tail, he simply flung the thing into the back of his gob and swallowed. We are finding it so hard not to connect that last sentence with his surprisingly extended stint on Idol, judged of course by Simon Cowell. Damn you, libel laws. Little Known Fact: Sanjaya says that his hair heroes include Robert Pattinson (“mmm, silky”), Donald Trump (“aah, flappy”) and Susan Boyle (“ooh, pubey”).

That’s it for the boys. Tomorrow we shall bring you the female contestants. And we’ll go with the producers, and chuck Janice in there, too.

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