India's got talent

For breaching over two hundred health and safety rules and regulations this can't even be shown on British telly let alone be actually performed here. We've got to lighten up a bit. I'd get a telly if this sort of stuff was on every evening.

Gah

This is Darren. He's the TV license inspector man who's been writing to me these past eight months or so. I have to admit, I haven't read his letters.

He didn't like me taking this picture of him for some reason. Possibly because he's worried some people he knows might find out what he does for a living. Because as we all know, it is possibly to die of shame. It's why there's no old people on regional radio stations.

So anyway, I'm home from the big house. It's not gone well to be fair and this was the last thing I needed. What I wanted was a meatball sammich and a since snooze. I got a TV license poker abouter instead.

He probably thought I couldn't talk cause I felt guilty. No..the joke was on him. I was just trying not to wet myself from fatigue. Joke's on you you silly coont.

Anyway, I don't have a TV, but that still isn't good enough for them. "I'll put you down for a visit this time next sir OK?" says Darren. Ha..you do that fella. It won't be me that answers the door. Hee Hee. Oh, fook.

Dexter season 6

Do you watch Dexter? Do you? I do. I loves it. Season 6 is getting mixed reviews but I think it's been briwyant. There's been a twist and everyone thinks it's terrible as it was predictable but I reckon they're being sold a dummy and there's a double twist.

I think it's Louis the intern who's been doing the killings and he wrote the message on Travis' wall with the hand from the Ice Truck Killer case. He's the nasty bastard in all this.

Did you want me to tell you that? Sorry if you haven't seen it yet. Tee hee.

Also, I reckon eventually we'll discover that young Deb has known all along that her brother is a serial killer. I fancy it would be very difficult as an inquisitive child to grow up in a house with a killer and not know about it. For my money she has known all along her brother likes to cut people up into little pieces and may have even become a cop to protect him.

You heard it here first. Now if you'll excuse me my crumpets are ready.

The end.

WSOP Mein Event

Nice enough chap

Squarehead Pius Heinz has won the WSOP main event and with it the $8.5m first prize (which is approximately €13 by the time the exchange rate and Pius' bank has gotten hold of it thanks to Greece) and there are a few things we need to discuss about this victory so let's get to it shall we. Let's not spare the horses.

Now, he seems a pleasant enough chap. But I have to say I am always unnerved, as I think we all are, when individual Germans are successful in sport as it gives the Teutonic collective sinister ideas.

Especially when the final push, as it were, involves defeating an eastern European nation as was the case here when Pius eventually rolled over Martin Staszko from the Czech Republic echoing Hitler's Panzar tank division's inexorable occupation of the Sudetenland in 1938.

OK technically poker isn't a sport and has a tiny audience in Germany compared to football, Ze X-Factor and Strictly Come Schuhplatter, but it's popular enough to ignite that fire of desire to world domination that is inherent in all of the Bosch.

I can only hope that the fact that we're all doomed and on the brink of financial collapse will mean news of Pius' wictory vill go unnoticed as the Germen press, unlike our own, have not been refrained from reporting the coming of a depression that made the one in the 1930's look like a party made up of a physical manifestation of people's spam email - which is essentially what Las Vegas is really.

As for the poker itself, it might be that I'm just a cranky old man, but given how much money these people are playing for and given how taxing on the mind the game can be at that level, I wonder if ESPN, the WSOP people and Harrahs have really thought the way they stage the final table through properly.

For the purposes of TV they have turned it into a massive game show. People in the crowd shouting and cheering, pouring beer over each other they're not supposed to have and composing appalling chants which are neither clever or funny - no surprise these were coming from the Germans and 'mercans.

I'm wondering in fact if the players don't deserve a bit more respect from the organisers than that? I know TV has its demands and really the first thing that is sacrificed when they get involved in sports is the purity of the sport, but I think their modus operandi, their mantra, that loud is good, big is better, is wrong.

You don't need people screaming utterly banal bullshit to create an atmosphere. Tension creates an atmosphere. Total silence can be deafening. Poker creates these things all by itself. Have these people not seen any horror movies?

What I'm saying is, I reckon their approach to broadcasting this specific poker final table with it's near $10m first prize should have been more classy tuxedo wearing deathly silent chess and less something that involves Graham Norton on a Saturday night.

Poker needs thought, it needs concentration, it needs conversation between the players, it needs evil stare downs. This event needs more respect. The game itself can create it's own atmosphere. You don't need to try and artificially create one with twats in silly t-shirts who are only there anyway because they hope their guy will buy them something afterwards.

This is what happens when you give something valuable to children, they ruin it. It's a rule everyone knows just like the one about not running with scissors, although to be fair I'm fine with children running with scissors. I'm fine with them drinking bleach too, but anyway I digress.

Poker has been hijacked by children and they have ruined it. They have turned a beautifully atmospheric, nuanced, complex, analytical game and turned it into a weird subculture, with it's own language, uniform and identifiers.

Unless you're a pasty, sunken-eyed, hooded, computron boffin who hasn't been outside for more than twenty minutes this year, can't drive a car or work an oven but can grind twenty tables at once online for eighteen hours a day, the game is dead to you.

I blame the sandal wearing hummus eaters who insist children should be respected and treated as equals. Bearded sexually dysfunctional liberals who think discipline is oppression and would rather let a delinquent stab them to death and steal their wallet than call the police.

I hark back to the days of David Copperfield, the Empire and fighting wars against tribal armies armed only with bits of wood. An age where children were shoved up chimneys and made to feel lucky about it.

If an urchin had found the temerity to four bet shove his elder light in those days he should be lucky if he escaped with his life. Now he gets $8.5m for it. It's enough to make you weep.

Wanker

Ricky Gervais is currently confirming what I always suspected; that's he's actually not very funny at all. It's an Emperor's new clothes moment, or the exposing of the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain. This 'mong' furore clearly illustrates that previously when we assumed he was being ironic, he wasn't.

Here's the thing about this 'mong' business. There's nothing wrong with making jokes about mental disabilities, but the jokes have to be about the condition itself rather than the sufferer. Otherwise you're just taking the piss out of someone with an incredibly complex and misunderstood condition, which has been ignored by those wishing to banish prejudice and discrimination from society.

Referring to this whole controversy Ricky Gervais said to Karl Pinkerton that what doesn't kill him makes him stronger. Karl said "What about Polio?" To me that's funny. That's a joke about Polio, not the sufferer of Polio.

I have a video on the blog at the moment of a man with Tourettes singing Lady in red. This is not about ridiculing those with Tourettes. It's purpose ultimately is to desecrate Chris DeBurgh's masterpiece.

Calling someone a' mong', or making a 'mong' face is just taking the piss out of people with mental illness. His justification that it's no longer associated with Downs Syndrome sufferers and just means idiotic and slow makes it even worse.

It means those things because we still associate those traits with mental illness. He's essentially saying 'mong' no longer refers to those afflicted with Downs syndrome, it's anyone with any kind of mental illness. It's like saying 'Paki' doesn't refer to someone specifically from Pakistan, it's anyone from that region.

I don't think there needs to be any legislation making these kinds of jokes illegal. We really don't want to live in a society where you can be cuffed and taken down town just for having an opinion or making jokes however unfunny.

I think society is intelligent enough to police itself on matters of decency. And on this occasion it appears to be doing so. Back in the 70s the sitcom Till death us do part starring Warren Mitchell as Alf Garnett.

He was racial bigot and the idea was we were meant to laugh at his ridiculous prejudices. People didn't though, the took him literally and laughed along with him rather than at him. Warren Mitchell had people coming up to him in the street and shaking his hand and making coon jokes.

Ricky Gervais is the modern day Alf Garnett. It is of course depressing so many people laugh with him instead of at him, but we can draw comfort from the fact that Till death us do part only ran for seven years. People get it eventually.

Chhaaaariddy

Have you seen Breaking Bad. I have now. I like it...but it highlighted for me one of the many things I don't get about people which I'd like to discuss at this time. But first, are you supposed to like the main dude in the show? Cause I think he's a c**t.

The premise of the show is a Chemistry teacher securing his families financial future in case he dies from recently diagnosed lung cancer by manufacturing awesome crystal meth. But this is horrible stuff as it's so damned good and it will probably kill many many kids or parents with kids and also destroy many many lives.

Selfish much?

But anyway I digress..It's not the show I wanted to discuss. It's the decision he takes to refuse the "charity" as he calls it, of his rich friends who offer to pay his medical bills for him and instead become a drug manufacturer. In his head this is apparently the moral thing to do!

Aside from the problems I have with this premise for the show..why as a society are we so reluctant to accept charity? How can there be such a stigma attached to it? Why is it a virtuous thing to do to give to charity, but apparently a shameful thing to do to accept it? Clark's Dad would furiously object to accepting charity yet raised Clark so his whole raison d'être was to help people who couldn't help themselves! Wrrrrong.


What does that say about the people our donations will help and what we think of them? According to this rational, they're shameful people for not making their way under their own steam, but we'll help them anyway?

Apparently, charity is fine as long as no one accepts it? Weeeeird. I know we like to be seen to be virtuous and not needy, but we all accept help from people all the ze time no? So this really is just for show. We want to be seen to be good moral decent people always willing to help others AND independent and in no way in need of any assistance to paddle our way through life's choppy waters.

Why is it only financial charity that has this contradictory stigma attached to it? If you want to make it on your own then do so...that means no help from anyone in any way. No financial help, no intellectual help, no physical help...noffin. Like Tom and Barbara in the Good Life.


Now it may seem at this point that I live my life through telly's inconsistencies, but I've done my research. People are like this and I would argue someone helping you move house for example if you're in a wheelchair is worth more to you than them giving you some money. Or some advice or professional guidance that you then use to make money...how is that not the same as someone just cutting you a cheque? It's all help, it's all chaaridy.

Everyone needs help surely. Why must we make our lives so unnecessarily crappy with these nonsensical social constructs.

Silly rules that are just for show and serve only to burden us like a really old donkey wheezing its way up a mountain with its owner's belongings strapped to it's aching back along with a microwave or something he has no use for at 7,000ft.

GAY! Just stop it OK? Give it a rest.

Now then...now that we've got that sorted out, now that we've ironed out that social crease, can I have £55,000 please? I will not be paying you back.

Colonel of the weekend

Colonel Deering

The horror!

Be careful with this site: http://bullseyecontestants.tumblr.com/ it's left me feeling nostalgic but has also resurrected disturbing memories from my childhood I would have preferred to have remained in the shadows of my subconscious. I've marked your card.

I actually do remember when old ladies looked exactly like this. I think they all did at that time. It's actually a miracle anyone who was brought up in the 70s and 80s can even talk. The horror!


This is beautiful and profoundly disturbing. The choking hairspray fumes even now are overpowering. Dude number 1 is wearing his best stuff, yet flanked by his parents on the left and his nan on the right his cool get up and perm are negated. Person number 2 is either asleep or incredibly well medicated. This couple (3) are awesome and they know it, but still...the horror!

Gone in 60 seconds

I went off Georgie Thompson just now in the minute it took me to read on the Daily Mail website how, pissed as a fart, she had crashed her Porsche while trying to park it.

This is beyond wrong of course and in so many ways. She should not even be earning a wage that would allow her to buy a Porsche as all she does is sit on a chair for a living and look into a camera.

She has set the progress of the blonde woman back at least twenty years with this spectacularly poor attempt to parallel park a powerful motor car.

Now when women, blonde women especially, insist the stereotype bimbo image is ignorant and insulting, they will be reminded of the 5ft tall Sky Sports News presenter who began reverse parking her car in Kensington and ended up somewhere in Camden and was relatively happy about it as she staggered head first into a watching Police officer who suffered bruising to his cock.

The thing than appalled me most about this, over and above the brazen lack of consideration for the public who may have been skittled over as she mounted curb after curb, was how fat she looked.

Don't look at me like that feminists. I think Georgie has demonstrated there is no brain behind the looks so it's fine for us to see her only as a piece of meat. An enormous great chunk of it.

I thought the camera added weight? Sky must have special cameras that take it off. No wonder she crashed, those rolls of neck fat would have prevented her seeing behind her. Urghh.. feel queasy. No wonder Dec ditched her.

Monkey business

Very worrysome dreaming of late. Many times I have been set upon by monkeys. There is nothing on Gah's clean earth more terrifying than an aggressive monkey. Those fingers, the screeching, the sort of fur that isn't quite fur.

Spiders scare me. I'm uncomfortable in the dark, but if I went for a piss in the night and found a monkey in bath tub it must surely be the end of me. I don't know how people in India manage with legions of them pelting through their disease riddled slums all the time. How horrible.

The symbolism is all rather obvious. Or is it? We all know what it means to have a monkey on one's back, but what does it mean to have loads of them swinging about around you and throwing poo about the place?

I would assume it mean chaos, which is funny cause there's anything but chaos in my life as we speak. It's possible though the chaos is Officer Boscorelli's. I am currently living vicariously through him and he's just been shot in the face many many times by some nasty drug dealers. Yes I think that must be it, but I'll let you know if something else turns up.

If you've never seen Third Watch incidentally, seek it out on the You Tubes. It's the most awesome Cop show ever. It's like a combination of NYPD Blue and E.R. They cancelled it after six seasons about five years ago, which was the worst telly decision since the Smallville writers never wrote in a scene where Lois has some difficulty making a cake and gets cream on her tits. That would have been an awesome scene.

* * *

In other news my awesome antique ear trumpet arrived today and I plan to use when people come over who I don't like. I will shout "EH?" at them every time they talk and point the trumpet at them until they feel uncomfortable enough to leave. It's GOLD!

Of my current outstanding 2am eBay purchases I am now just waiting for a charger for an old Panasonic x70 phone, which I will now use not because my iPhone doesn't work and is shit, but because I want to. Cause I feel like it.

Oh I have also taken the decision to start putting pomade in my hair. I want to encourage everyone to return to more traditional hair treatments and jellies.

There's really nothing quite like the smell of lanolin and petrol in the morning.

I forgot what else I wanted to say.

The symptoms of doomdom

Future historians will one day regress the origins of a Europe wide war to the weeks of June 2011 when thousands of Spaniards and Greeks took to the streets and squares of their respective capitals out of frustration and anger at the political corruption that had led their countries to the brink of bankruptcy.

Meanwhile during the same period in the UK, possibly because the mainstream media didn't want anyone to know what was actually happening on the continent in case everyone got the same idea here, everyone was focused instead entirely on the finals of Britain's Got Talent.

A talent show in the loosest possible terms where a kid who looks like a puppy in a syrup and was clearly cloned from another spooky Canadian kid was about win the opportunity of a lifetime to be appalling exploited by a sweaty Simon Cowell. The days when the sun never set on the Empire had never quite felt so long ago.

I'm disgusted at us. If millions and millions of people watched these shows out of a sense of irony, fully aware of how utterly offensively vacuous they are, I wouldn't lose quite so much sleep, but no. These shows have become genuinely important to people. People talk about them at work, on twitter, in queues. Everywhere. Seriously.

So while the European Union begins to break up, a monumental notion no less significant than the collapse of the Soviet Union, everyone in this country is distracted by someone juggling orphans and the news that amateur racist Cheryl Cole might be returning to judge the X-Factor.

We're doomed, we've given up then is what we're saying to ourselves. That's the general conclusion we can draw from these specific symptoms of doomdom. We're the national equivalent of a once beautiful but now fat divorcee who wears track suits all the time with custard stains down the front, smokes 100 cigarettes a day and feeds her seven kids crisps for tea before sending them out to make life a misery for anyone living within a five mile radius.

Call me presumptuous but I don't think Socialism has worked.

* * *

Well if the country can ignore the nightmare that is so clearly approaching with all the inexorable velocity of an out of control Fiat Punto skidding sideways down an icy road towards a group of school children while the female behind the wheel applies her lipstick in her rear view mirror in complete ignorance of the terrified faces of the little cherubs she's about to skittle into a mass grave.

I myself will use the Concacaf Gold Cup which starts tomorrow to take my mind off the fact that we're all doomed and it's every man for himself.

Mexico as we all know are current Champions having given the US of States a 5-0 shellacking in the 2009 final. I see no reason why this can't happen again this year. It being held in 'merca will only add to the humiliation of the host nation as they are slaughtered once again.


Mexico play the might of El Salvador tomorrow night at Cowboys Stadium. The result will be a national embarrassment for El Salvador and many members of their team will never quite be the same again.

Elsewhere in the sporting world, my new MotoGP hero while Valentino Rossi sorts out how to ride his Ducati is Marco Simoncelli and his magic Euro hair-do. He looks remarkably like a 1970s Kevin Keegan in fact, only not quite so gay.

I fancy him to win his first MotoGP race tomorrow in the Catalunya GP. He's been threatening to win one of these things all season, but has up to now, preferred instead to fling himself off his machine or fling other people off theirs.

Marco is not the crowd favourite having destroyed poor little Dani Pedrosa's shoulder in the last race in Le Mans with an overtaking manouevre that required the breaking of up to nine laws of physics and as many racing regulations.

Fantastic stuff. Proper racing. None of this nancy boy F1 business where there's no racing allowed, only prancing about in Gucci sunglasses shouting ciao at the locals.

"I tell you what, I will LOVE IT,
love it if I win tomorrow."

Pointless refutation of the day

While I appreciate Jemima Khan could potentially be stoned to death for infidelity, I don't think there was really any need for her to go to the trouble of opening a Twitter account to refute allegations she had taken out a Super-Injunction to hide sordid details of an affair with Jeremy Clarkson.

Clearly by marrying into the Islamic faith she has a submissive nature, but she would also have to be an incredible masochist to subject herself to an appalling sexual mauling from the Top Gear front man.

I'm keen to believe anything I read on Twitter, but like poor Jemima, there are somethings I just can't swallow.

Quite apart from anything else, Clarkson is obviously as bent as one of Uri Geller's spoons anyway.

Yes

Season 9 of Smallville begins tonight in my little world. I'm a little bit worried about this as there's no more seasons to watch after this one. The final season which is of course season 10 hasn't finished airing in the US of States yet so it'll be November before it's available in these lands on the DVDs.

I could go back and watch it all again, but Clark and I have been through so much over the seasons I don't think I could bring myself to go through it all again. Not knowing as I now do that he never did get a blowie of Lana.

I'll have to worry about that when the time comes. In the meantime I just hope Lois who has gone missing, doesn't come back wearing loser less slutty stuff but indeed continues with those sort of funky PVC outfits she was wearing quite often in season 8 for quite tenuous reasons now I look back on it.

I hear Zod is to be introduced in this season. The most evilest man in the galaxies. Played by an English guy of course. What is it with Mercans and their perception of the English accent as the epitome of evil? Is that why it's so easy to get shags in America cause women get turned on by evil? I never thought of that before, I thought it was always just cause I had nice eyes.

In other news I can still hear that fly.

The climax

It's the finale of season 7 of Smallville tonight in my little world. There's nothing I enjoy more in bed at night than a good climax. Clark hasn't figured out that Kara is in fact Brainiac and this of course is why Lana is still in a coma.

Lex has discovered the Fortress of Solitude and will no doubt attempt to take control of Clark but since he doesn't have tits I can't see him succeeding.

I ordered season 8 on the Amazons a few days ago but it has not arrived yet. What will I do if it still hasn't arrived by tomorrow!? I mean, what else is there to do in bed at night before one goes to sleep, especially on a Friday night?

#PrayForJapan #RIP #Japan

It's entertainment when a giant lizard is tearing up Japan, but
when it's an earthquake it's suddenly not quite so funny? Hypocrites.

I tell you what this whole pray for Japan business has my dander fully erected. People tweeting messages of sympathy to a country? That as far as I'm aware is as insincere a means of conveying condolence as is currently available.

An earthquake, followed by a tsunami and potential nuclear disaster and all people can manage is, #prayforJapan because they're limited to only 140 characters. Sandwiched between tweets about Justin Bieber and Clive Tyldesley an RIP message for the dead in Japan is just a fucking insult.

Just don't bother. You don't care. If a tweet is all you can manage you definitely don't care. There's nothing wrong with not caring. I don't care. I wouldn't care if it happened here. We've all got issues to deal with and I'm more concerned with what Lionel Luthor is up to than what's happening in Japan.

What's going on here?: Lionel and Martha Kent yesterday

We can't help these people, I'm not even sure if they are people, we can't change history and they're the ones who built a series of fucking nuclear facilities on one of the world's most notorious fault lines in the first place. Selfish bastards, take us all down with you.

And bollocks to giving them money too. Jesus. What's wrong with people in this country?? They're the third largest economy in the world. They can cope with this. We can't even afford to put petrol in our children. Or feed our cars.

I swear we're all living in dream land where the UK still owns the planet and we have inexhaustible funds to sort everyone's shit out and we're just choosing not to finance the rebuilding of our own country and voluntarily live in a stinking shit hole with no education system or health care or police force or transport network and bread that costs more than a fucking rolex. Japan could have six more of these disasters this week and they're still in better shape than us.

And what good is a fucking prayer anyway? Urgh, I hate it when people say that. Some one develops aggressive brain cancer and a sanctimonious sandal wearing cunt in a sarong offers to pray for them. Yeah cheers cause that'll help. If there was a God and he was going to help, he wouldn't have mashed the persons brains up in the first place.

I'm of the opinion a massive nuclear disaster wiping out pretty much everyone is about the only thing that'll save the species. Sort of like re-booting. We need to start again and this time not invent telly and instead of wasting time trying to keep hold of India we need to divert military resources across the Atlantic to win the war of Independence and stop America from ever happening. All the shit in the world can be regressed back to the birth of America.

Alright well I've said my piece, I'll bid you good day.

Fat Tuesday

Today was a roller coaster of emotions. I'm quite exhausted and I should think I'll have to sleep until probably Thursday now to recover. I was up early doors as Denis Wise would say. It was cold outside. A harsh cold, but I was even colder on the inside.

Only a few hours hence I had sat in tears and watched while Lex seduced Lana. I was so wrong about her. She is nothing but a tease. She doesn't deserve Clark anyway. He sacrificed so much for her. He just wanted Lana to be safe and she repays him by jumping straight onto the cock of the man who could destroy him forever. Oh that poor boy.


Well Lex will come to regret his betrayal. Not literally however as Lana is obviously a precious cock tease. The kind of girls you meet in Merca who are all tight buns and soft seductive voice, but would rather suck the venom from a rattle snake than an honest to goodness penis. Orphan bitch. I bet her parents jumped in front of those meteor rocks out of despair for spawning such a heartless wench.

Clark will be much happier with Lois. She definitely knows her way around a set of bollocks. He'll have much more fun with her. And Lex and Lana can live a life of misery and abstinence together. I'd rather live in a barn and have my arse licked three or four times a week than have billions of monies and not even be pulled off on my birthday, that's what I always say and you can quote me.


So yes, I was a mess emotionally as I set off for the big house to have my IV removed and perform a kind of oral sex on a lung function machine. I thought of Lana and how bad her score would have been. I was able to manage it without any wee leaking out and that was good enough for me. Something odd then occurred which hasn't happened to me since I was about 15, it was curious and not at all unpleasant, but I'm afraid the details are un-bloggable.

The rest of my day was spent eating Ploughman's cheese sammiches, napping and preparing myself for the inevitable frustrations from Barcelona. If I ever meet Nicklas Bendtner I'm going to spit in his face. He is everything I detest about Premier League footballers. An enormous ego and equally disproportionately inflated bank account yet no more than an average professional at best.

If you put him in a Sheffield Wednesday shirt without telling anyone, stuck an arbitrary English name on the back, Wilson for example, and gave him a run out at the weekend would anyone notice him? Would he stand out? He'd stand out, but only as the tall c*nt who can't finish.


I just don't understand why the Gods don't want me to be happy for longer than twenty minutes per calendar month. What have I done wrong? I never go out, how can I have angered them so much that I am punished so relentlessly? Is it cause I follow Richard Dawkins on Twitter? Is that what it is? Are the Gods' egos so fragile I'm not even allowed to read the tweets of atheists?

Please forgive me. I just want to have one day where you don't make me cry. Would it help if I burnt some animals? Email me. Let me know.

Heroes and villains

Today's man of the day is Rupert Murdoch. Our spirits were low this morning as we had to go the big house and that's always a depressing time, but they were lifted when we heard howls of outrage from the lefty media and the BBC in particular over the BskyB take-over.

How the BBC has the neck to whinge about supposed media monopolies when they are funded by a compulsory tax is beyond me. Unless they have the cheekiest driest sense of humour or have no understanding of irony I can only assume they're just the miserable pinko fuckers I always assumed they were and they can get the fuck out. I'm right too about Bagpuss being a euphemism for communism.

He may have destroyed the substance of every sport his silly sports channels have any gotten hold of, but we can forgive Mr Murdoch these ills so long as he's busting up egos at the Beeb. It's about time the right side of the political debate was represented more robustly anyway and if a few newspapers on the other side happen to fall by the wayside in the process well we'll just have to manage without them.

It's precisely because no one is reading them that they're in a position to go bust anyway that's what I always say. If the Guardian's parent company for example hadn't been so efficient with it's tax evasion they couldn't possibly survive given their pathetic 200,000 readership. Most of whom are too busy eating humus and congratulating themselves on being so friggin' superior to read it all anyway.

* * *

In other news I'm now beginning season 5 of Smallville. I still think Clark should have told Lex ages ago about his abilities. He could have protected him. I'd like to be Lex. Unhinged, but with billions of monies so it's OK. Like Murdoch just less wrinkles. I mean he might experiment on people without always asking them first, but it's all for the greater good. He's the real hero of the show.

Most heroes are flawed anyway. We just choose to ignore those flaws. As Lex rightly pointed out earlier today even King David one of the earliest of heroes who defeated Goliath with his sling was a duplicitous adulterous whore monger. But they don't tell you that in Bible school.

They don't say, now then children after defeating Goliath King David went on to mutilate the genitals of a couple hundred Philistines, then got his mates wife up the duff and sent him off to fight in the most dangerous battle occurring at the time so he'd die and he could have his Keithy Cheggers widow all to himself. They skate around that part.

Even JFK almost missed getting shot in Dallas because he was hanging out the back of a strumpet earlier in the day as Richard Keys would say and almost missed his bus to the airport. One man's hero is another man's sandwich. I think you know what I'm trying to say.

Anyway, I digress...so yes. Season 5. Smallville. Good stuff. Lois had to work as a lap dancer as well today and that also raised my spirits and I became semi-erect.

* * *

Chapter 4, how Gordon fucked the English forever: Gordon
enjoying wife Sarah's book yesterday

Thursday's villain was in fact Sarah Brown. She was a guest on the Richard Bacon radio show to promote her book which details her experiences as she sat idly by and watched her husband fulfill his life long ambition to fuck England up forever.

She apparently is OK with making money out of her husbands hapless mismanagement of the economy over 13 years. She sees no problem exploiting Gordon Brown's annihilation of Britain's ability to function as a going concern, so while the next few generations live off bread and water without a police force, education system, proper energy reserves or a health service to speak off, the Browns will be quite comfortable thank you very much living off his gigantic pension, the money he stole from the nation in the form of a salary he so obviously did not deserve plus all the other millions he's squirreled away via networks of complex fraudulent embezzlement.

TV or not TV

Over the past few weeks I've tried to keep a record of what I watch on television to try and give me a realistic idea of how often I watch it because there's something on I really want to watch as opposed to just being too lazy to do something more constructive. My records do not make for good reading. But rather than not read them and watch telly instead I'm going to accept their findings.

I do not need a television. And the £930 a year I spend to watch it and cause irreparable damage to my poor brain could be better invested in my health if I spent it on crack. Not once over the past few weeks have I switched my TV on because there was something specific on I wanted to watch. I just switch it on and sit there watching and watching and watching.

Television is surely addictive. Possibly more so than heroine and just as difficult a habit to break. It has destroyed my ability to read a book properly because I have the attention span of a nine year old who only eats candy floss and also because television has made me uncomfortable with silence.

This is an appalling state of affairs. Silence is golden as the saying goes and it should be cherished, but television has made silence feel uncomfortable, probably because on TV it is usually followed by something horrific and loud.

And it's not just simply a matter of turning the thing off anyway. It's the canceling of subscriptions and the actual removing of the equipment from ones property that adds to the difficulty in beating ones TV habit.

Take for example the canceling of the TV license. Just cancel your direct debit and email into the TV license people that you no longer have a TV yes? Noooo. From what I understand it's no where near as simple as this and I can expect a letter once a month every month for a least the rest of my life...computer generated letters in various serious looking colours Blacks, reds, yellows that don't actually have any legal powers behind them...but still quite annoying nonetheless and the assumption of guilt over innocence which is always an insult.

Sky TV are even worse. Just trying to get through to the cancellation of subscription desk is designed to be a test of wills. It's all about whether I'll get through to someone before I lose the will to live. And even when you get through to one of those women you've got to say no to all their enticing discounts they offer you to remain as a customer before you're allowed to escape their clutches.

'We can offer you a six month free subscription sir, and my colleague Tiffany and I will come over and lick custard off your ball sack." ARRGHHHHHHH nooooooooooooooo I want to cancel my subscript... Oh fuck it OK then, I'll see you tomorrow. If Ulysses thought those Sirens were hard to resist he ought to try canceling his Sky subscription.


One has to proceed with caution. The best way to approach this mammoth task is to ditch your actual equipment first then all their offers of discounts and manual relief can be refused relatively painlessly. Although to be fair when your TV weighs the same as a small horse even this is easier said than done.

It's a long road, but even the longest journeys begin with a single step. I will begin my journey this evening by not watching telly and spending the time instead trying on all of my hats.

It's not funny because it's not funny

Jeremy Clarkson just doesn't get it

Here's the thing that offends me about Jeremy Clarkson; he thinks he's funny, but he's not. He has a psuedo-sense of humour if you will. He doesn't get what funny is and I believe this is why his interpretation of what's funny causes so much offense. That and being such an ugly bigot.

Having no sense of humour coupled with his bigotry and fancying himself as some sort of crusader for the anti-PC cause makes for such an unpleasant man you have to wonder how he's so popular. The reason of course does not reflect well on the nation.

Jeremy Clarkson said you can't have humour without offense. This is demonstrably not true and symptomatic of his inability to understand anything you can't put petrol in. Good quality comedy just has to be original, spontaneous and intelligent. Some offensive jokes are very funny, but the offensive part is usually either ironic or necessary for the joke. Jeremy Clarkson is just offensive for the sake of being offensive.

His entire sense of humour revolves around perpetuating stereotypes of various groups of people. Green campaigners, feminists, the disabled, etc etc. Usually it's nationalities though, usually the Germans. The Germans reek of sausage, Mexicans are always asleep, the French don't wash and the Italians are cowards and so on..

Everyone has prejudices of course and it's silly to take the moral high ground over them. But we must understand purely from a comedic point of view that stereotypes are not funny. They're not funny because by definition they're not original as they're just the repetition of various caricatured foibles and they're also not intelligent as anyone can repeat something they've heard somewhere else. And they can't be spontaneous either.

Perpetuating stereotypes is comedy cheating in my opinion. It's lazy and cheap and a lower form of wit than sarcasm. Clarkson's crimes against humour are worse in fact than those of Bob Monkhouse. He was an awful man. Awful. Someone so desperate for fame he was prepared to do anything to achieve it.

Bob Monkhouse had no sense of humour so he simply chose to memorise about 50,000 jokes. He had massive joke books and he'd pour over them each night so that no matter what the conversation he'd always have an amusing joke ready that fit the subject.

This gave the impression of spontaneity, but was the complete opposite. Eventually the general public couldn't take it anymore and someone volunteered to bust into his house and steel his joke books. He was devastated of course because he appreciated the consequences. This rendered him jokeless. It's no coincidence he died soon after.

It is for similar reasons Jeremy Clarkson is so vociferous about political correctness. He knows it is the panacea for his sense of humour. Without the freedom to remind us the Australians are descendants of criminals he'd only have his knowledge of cars to fall back on which is fine when he's presenting Top Gear, but would render him speechless in all other walks of life.

It is for this single reason I can't quite muster the same howls of outrage over political correctness as the rest of the nation.

NO!

For the BBC's sake they better hope Top Gear presenter and dwarf Richard Hammond will come to feel so ashamed by his disparaging and racist comments towards Mexicans last week that he'll take his own life. Unless he's found swinging from his coffee table in the very near future I'll be forced to email into the BBC with a sternly worded complaint. And they don't want that.

Perhaps he's just lashing out as despite obviously caring a great deal about his appearance he is routinely mistaken for a lesbian green campaigner and removed from the Top Gear set by security, but that is no justification for racial prejudice and I want it stopped.