I walked out of the show!

All you need is the power of imagination. So relax your mind, and join me in a daydream: You are walking across the plush carpet of an elegant hotel lobby.

I went into their million-pound mansion, built inside a TV studio, expecting to spend three weeks on camera with 11 other contestants. I thought it would be a psychological challenge. Instead it degenerated into a humiliating series of drunken farragos. There was a lot of heavy alcohol use, and it sickened me.
When the presenters produced ice statues of a naked man and woman, and invited us to lick gin or vodka from their frozen private parts, I walked out. That’s not entertainment.