Day six in the Celebrity Big Brother house, and I'm afraid I'm no closer to guessing just what some of these people have done to actually constitute being classed as "celebrities". Still, it seems churlish not to join the daily water-cooler discussion of what went on in the previous night's show.

I'd imagine that there are quite a few people relieved to see the next three weeks of telly schedules taken up by the return of BB, especially those who have enjoyed a long Christmas break and been forced to en-dure extended periods with their family. Now people can start the year as they mean to go on: slumped in front of the TV not having to think up conversation.

I'd been almost excited by some of the rumours flying around as to who was going to be in the house prior to the show starting last Thursday.

Sadly, the predicted appearances of boozy comic Johnny Vegas, pop trainwreck Shane MacGowan, Scouse psychic Derek Acorah and TV poo inspector Dr Gillian McKeith were not in evidence.

Instead we got a progression of faceless microcelebrities who seemed to get less and less recognisable as the night wore on, with only Michael Barrymore, Rula Lenska and Respect MP George Galloway coming close to anything like what an old fogey like myself would term "proper celebrities".

Alongside them we've got some bloke out of Welsh comedy rappers Goldie Lookin Chain, some other bloke out of some other band that's had one hit, some lass off Baywatch, basketball player Dennis Rodman (surely a household name in Thackley), and some other people who all look alike.

Even Pete Burns, the former Dead or Alive singer, doesn't look like Pete Burns any more. He looks like ex-Coronation Street wildcat Lynne Perrie doing a Britney Spears turn at the local working men's club.

Into the mix we've also had a "normal" person, Chantelle, who had to pretend to be in a fictional girl band and con the other celebrities that she was, in fact, as famous as the rest of them.

Which, as things went, was not really a major problem. Apart from the Yanks, everyone knew who Mi-chael Barrymore was. The Yanks knew who each other were, probably due to some hanky-panky in the past. Most people, or at least those who had flicked through FHM or Loaded at some point in the past, knew what Jodie Marsh looked like, at least from the neck down. But such was the level of celebrity that few of them actually knew who all of the other people were.

When Gorgeous George walked in, half of them probably thought he was their Dad and the other half pre-sumed he was the cleaner.

So the fact that by Sunday night Chantelle had managed to convince most of the household that she was famous is hardly surprising. When your actual claim to fame is that you had an affair with the England football coach (hello, Bradford-born Faria Alam), the standard of achievement that is necessary to confer celebrity status isn't actually that high.

And in the twisted, bonkers way of the world as it is today, Chantelle now actually is famous. She's been on the front page of the tabloids. She's being talked about on the news. She'll quite likely go on to win Big Brother, get a job as a telly presenter and will more than likely forget that before she went into the Big Brother house she actually wasn't a celebrity at all. Which, as things go, isn't a bad way to make a living. As George Galloway might say, if he wasn't banned by Big Brother from talking politics: "Respect!"