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job, right? I was dead unhappy with my self-image before, and my new tits have really empowered me as a person in my own right, right? Which at the end of the day is what it’s all about, in’t it? Quite frankly, at the end of the day, I feel that these are the boobs I was supposed to have.’
    ‘Gi’s a look, then, darling, and I’ll tell you if you’re right!’ Gazzer shouted.
    ‘Easy, tiger!’ Moon shrieked, revelling in the attention.
    ‘Take it easy. We’ve got nine fookin’ weeks in here, don’t want to peak too soon. Oh God, though, what have I said? I feel terrible. Me mum never knew ‘bout me being a stripper, she thinks I’m dead proper, me. So-rry, Mum!’
    ‘I’ve got nothing against a bit of cosmetic surgery,’ Jazz reflected.
    ‘I’ve never regretted my nob reduction, at least now it don’t poke out the bottom of me trousers!’ The housemates laughed and shrieked and said ‘Wicked!’ But there were some who laughed more than others. A quiet-looking girl with raven-dark hair and green eyes only smiled. Sitting beside her was a rather straight-looking young man dressed in smart but casual Timberland.
Hamish . Real job: junior doctor. Star sign: Leo.
    ‘He doesn’t look happy,’ Coleridge observed, staring at Hamish’s handsome face, which was caught in a rather sullen expression.
    ‘He’s thinking about winning,’ said Hooper.
    ‘He went in with a strategy. Keep your head down, don’t get noticed, that’s his little motto. ‘Only the noticed get nominated.’ He went into the confession box every night and said that. It’s a very complex game,’ Hooper continued.
    ‘They have to play their fellow housemates one way and the public another. Be unobtrusive enough not to get nominated but interesting enough not to get evicted if they do get nominated. I think that’s why people find the programme so fascinating. It’s a genuine psychological study. Like a human zoo.’
    ‘Is it?’ Coleridge snapped caustically.
    ‘In that case I wonder why the producers never seem to miss a single opportunity to broadcast sex talk or to display breasts.’
    ‘Well, breasts are fascinating too, aren’t they, sir? People like looking at them. I know I do. Besides which, when people go to the real zoo, what do they like looking at most? Monkeys’ burns and rumpo, that’s what.’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
    ‘I’m not being ridiculous at all, sir. If you had the choice of watching two elephants either having their tea or having it off, which would you choose? People are interested in sex. You might as well face it.’
    ‘I think we’re straying from the point.’
    ‘Do you, sir?’ Said Trisha, who was looking at Hamish’s face on the screen.
    ‘I don’t. This house was riddled with sexual tension and that’s got to be relevant, hasn’t it? For instance, just look who Hamish is staring at.’
    ‘It’s impossible to say.’
    ‘You’ll see in the wide shot, it’s coming up next.’ Trisha touched the play button on the ancient VCR and, sure enough, the picture cut to a wide shot of the laughing, slightly drunken group lolling about on the couches.
    ‘He’s looking at Kelly now, sir, and then he starts staring at Layla. He’s checking them out. The psychologist on the show says that during the first hours in the house the group will be thinking principally about who they’re attracted to.’
    ‘Now that is a surprise, constable! And there was me imagining that they were thinking about the value of their immortal souls and the definition of God.’ Coleridge regretted his outburst. He did not approve of sarcasm and he liked Trisha and valued her as an officer. He knew that she did not speculate idly.
    ‘I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m still having some difficulty getting over my exasperation with these people.’
    ‘That’s all right, sir. They certainly are a bunch of pains. But I do think it’s important that we find out who fancies whom. I mean, in this unique murder