Vincent Simone. I could almost just write his name and end my diary here. The former Strictly pro is going to be magnificent.
The dancing diva hadn’t even entered the jungle but was already pretty much congratulating fellow new arrival Annabel Giles for getting to spend a night with him.
All the ladies at home will be jealous, he boasted. He’d flirt with his own reflection, I bargain.
Eventually into bush, the pair found themselves on a night shift in the jungle factory, threading corks onto hats in order to win stars for their campmates. A task elevated beyond the simply mind-numbingly boring by the introduction of some of the jungle’s finest.
“The mouses are everywhere. The mouses!” squealed Vincent. They were rats.
“Oh look, they’re having sex, they must be the Italian mouses.” Still rats.
And so it went on. Annabel herself admitted she had to be the more macho of the pair. But finding a bit of George of the Jungle in him somewhere, Vincent rather grandly piggybacked the former model out of the factory so “only two feet had to be on the floor”.
They snuggled in for a night under the stars and Vincent looked as pleased as punch… for Annabel. After all, all of her dreams must have been coming true…
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