Tuesday, 23 October 2007

• Prev
• Next

The brats are back

Brat camp returns and this time the parents are as bad as their offspring...

I'm a bit bored of Brat Camp. They've changed the format by sending mums and daughters away to the Arizona desert to be surrounded by spiritual people with goatees, but the novelty has worn off.

Natasha was your usual spoilt little, binge-drinking, foul-mouthed ASBO waiting to happen.

Her mum Montana on the other hand was away with the fairies and waited on her daughter hand and foot.

Montana was also so naive that she believed Natasha was playing tag over the park with her mates in the evening rather than glugging down WKD like Charlotte Church on a night out [pre-baby of course].

Despite claiming her daughter had learned the error of her ways she was acting as a butler again as soon as they meet up.

One of the first things she did after weeks seperated by the wilderness was ripping the sleeve from one of her shirts so her daughter could wipe her bum with it. I kid you not.

Then, despite the hippies, sorry camp staff, telling her Natasha needed to stay so her behaviour would really change she decided that she was cured and took her home. Sure enough she reverted to type.

I’m the first to admit I wasn’t exactly a pleasant teenager at times. I rowed with my parents and drank cider over the park, but I was a saint compared to the girls on Brat Camp.

Sadly these days it takes a full on Briutney-style meltdown to hold my attention, which means Brat Camp has had its day.