Happy days. After six weeks of f*cking about and jogging on, Maxwell is finally out of the Big Brother house. And that, dear readers, is off the hook.
In the words of Kemal, "he's a lazy, cheating waste of space, good for nothing thug, beer-drinking, lager-louting, woman-shagging waste of space." Anything else? "And he is a vile pig." Oh yeah, that too.
Not that that's necessarily enough to evict him - some of the finest Big Brother housemates in history have been vile pigs. But Maxwell was always just a little too full of himself, a little too sure of the inevitability of his own success, and having insisted that the boos he heard last week weren't boos for Saskia, they were people booing the fact that she'd been evicted, the man needed taking down a peg or two, as Enid Blyton would have said.
Besides which, there was no way we could afford to lose Kieren. Sorry, I mean Science. The man's a genius, and he knows how to run a chicken under the cold tap. You have to admire someone who'll happily try to piss people off while they're waiting to go and nominate. And the man's obsessed with salad cream. And germs. What more do you want?
In contrast, Maxwell spent his time swinging wildly between vicious thuggery and "absolute fromage" (his words, not mine). Sadly his fromage wasn't particularly frais, and tended to curdle my stomach. So there was really no competition. The Trotter had to go.