September 30, 2020

'Sálvame okupa': the house of Big Brother at the price of Airbnb | TV

'Sálvame okupa': the house of Big Brother at the price of Airbnb | TV

The House of Big Brother It looks like a simple Airbnb. Guadalix de la Sierra has become one of the hot spots in this global disaster called gentrification. The heads of Telecinco and the producers of the show take advantage of their real estate investment. It seems that they can not enter a season to disinfect because it must be maintained in the market. That's why a sequel has been taken out of the sleeve at the price of tourist housing.

We had not fully digested the effects of Big Brother Duo when they already surprised us with Save me Okupa. It has been a consolation for carrion couch potatoes while waiting for the big bombing that is coming: the Survivors of the Pantoja. In this same paragraph, note the mental cocoa to which the chain takes us. The three flagship programs of Telecinco flow and converge in the same universe of reality TV, skillfully invented by them.

If one of the great discoveries of art is to create its own worlds, why should it be the same in the television medium? The great audacity of the canal is having given birth. But your biggest risk, waste it. Save me squat it's an example. Nothing remarkable has happened in this collusion of subalterns. The stars had been left out. They did not enter Belén Esteban, nor Kiko Matamoros, nor Mila Ximénez … The hardcore, the purest DNA of the concoction. So nothing has changed, neither amazed us, nor scandalized in the dull 72 hours that the Mediaset fauna with its descendants has invaded the house.

Perhaps the most interesting thing has been to see them without makeup. In recent times, Lidia Lozano had on the set a sinister tone on her face that accentuates her image as a witch screaming pelao with fuses. The hours he spent in front of the mirror, magic mirror, along with his showcase of toilets while molded his appearance, has been the highlight.

The momentazos, however, she has not taken them. The three mini summits, in justice, should be left to Carmen Borrego. He already entered badly when Belen Ro read her the letters and announced that clouds of matrimonial rupture were presented to him. She endured the bad gin and tonic drink. Or at least that seemed like the brew with which he sucked the earthquake of love. Then, her sister Terelu named her a maid in that class struggle game that introduced the brains of the program to engage: fraternal crisis in sight. This one keeps it.

Finally, the worst came at the hands of clown … The friend, always disturbing with that aspect of the illegitimate son of the Joker, does not usually hit the target with the tartazos he gives to those who have been censored by the audience. The only one that has hit the right way has been for Ángel Garó. It fails like a possessed one. But this time, on the side, he rode it where it hurts the most. When they saw him appear with the trays, the Borrego exclaimed: "Not that I'm operated on!" Instead of throwing it wrong, as always, over the head, he planted the meringue in the scar of plastic surgery. Llorera and the hospital.

You passed, clown. With what she would have given of herself inside making masterfully the victim and the victim. Not even the narrowness of Víctor Sandoval could have done so much with pathos. And that, according to him, has entered the house because he needs the prize money to face the debts. Among them, four months of rent. A question for the audience about domestic economic priorities: Can not pay the rent of your house but do undergo a hair transplant operation?

This great display of impudence and lack of shame has made, among other things, that the theater with which Angela Pantoja went out of her way to attract attention will turn out to be sympathetic. Entering the confessional to release a living tear that it hurt to have left without a snack is a sign of Spanish tenderness. And sticky immaturity bombproof.

Well, this has been the calico. One meme after another that they had shivering at the remote control. Intractable. Those responsible for all this, from La Fábrica de la Tele to the heads of the channel have sold the brand Save me, for a take me out there a silly weekend. There are still classes. This graft has been an affront even for the most shabby reality of world television. Come back soon to put order, Jorge Javier! That sink it!


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