Conroy opens the show this week
Can’t believe I drove all the way to fucking London on Saturday thinking London Pride was a beer festival.
Coronation Street’s Reece Dinsdale is quitting the show despite being offered a massive pay rise, un-fucking grateful bastard. He plays the part of Joe McIntyre Gail Platt’s lover and says he’s scared of being typecast. – typecast as what?! This bloke who is on telly and slept with a woman who looks like ET, if I was in charge I would have stuck his head down the bog flushed it several times and then sacked the cunt.
I’m bang up for this Global Warming lark, it was bastard hot last week and the week before. I’m sure it is because I broke a fridge up in my garden last month and I always leave my car in the drive with the engine running.”
So thirteen Michael Jackson songs in the chart on Sunday just because he snuffed it. This unfortunately proves death to be a fucking brilliant marketing tool and with the way record companies are at the moment with the lack of sales etc.. – also fucking dangerous for their artists. Madonna must be shitting herself. Checking her break cables, not eating out or accepting drinks from any fucker, because at fifty it’s the only way she’s gonna shift a lot of tunes and try and equal MJ’s latest chart success with a statement from her record company saying…’she accidentally stabbed herself in the back twenty times with a kitchen knife while making a cup of tea’.
“Sex is like riding a bike…well it is if you take the saddle off”- Will Young 2004
Pictures in the press last week of Kerry Ka-fucking-Tona on a bike at first glance made me think they were re-opening the Mr Blobby theme park in Devon. She’s a proper fat cunt at the moment, it must be great for her kids though thinking their mum is a fucking huge, permanently inflated bouncy castle as well as a big fat cow.
Danny Dire get a fucking grip, if you are going to go round filming the world’s deadliest men, there is no need to look like you are going to shit your pants and start crying. Nobody is going to hurt you as most of the conversations are set up by the show’s producers. Also, these guys you feature aren’t dumb enough to kill you on national fucking telly. If they were it wouldn’t be on fucking Bravo, it would be on BBC1 Saturday night prime fucking time – and I for one would be on the sofa watching with the rest of the fucking country.
A black man, a white man and a weirdo walk into a bar… the barman looks up and says ‘I thought you were dead Mr Jackson?’
“A man is not an Island, unless he is in the bath'” – Bob Geldof 1985
By the way I’m not interested in how much your house is worth, because it’s one of the dullest conversations you can have with me, It’s almost as bad as you telling me about your skiing trip – or worse still, showing me your holiday photographs which are equally as boring… unless I am in them of course, then I will have a little look.”
Didn’t watch any Wimbledon this year, in fact the last Wimbledon I watched on telly featured the fucking Wombles – that’s how long ago it was. Why does everyone who has a tennis interest keep going on about the new centre court roof? I don’t care how much it cost, it looks shit, end of. Put some massive wheels on the side of the building and you got yourself a giant pram. They could even make all players wear nappies and play with dummies in their mouth to keep the theme going.
Dan Prince Let’s One Rip…
Loved seeing on TV the Zambian president Rupiah Banda giving a speech outside of his office when all of a sudden a monkey in the tree above pissed all over him. Well, that’s one way to shut the boring cunt up I thought.
America is one weird place. But I like this strange young man running around naked in Langley, British Columbia stealing food from the plate’s of people eating their dinner in restaurants.
Being a journalist you sometimes get to hear news before it’s been announced, apparently Michael Jackson has sadly died.
How I would have loved to have been at that fancy dress party in Yorkshire last week. Police swooped to arrest two people for dealing cocaine at the bash, one was dressed as Snow White, the other Bo Peep. Can you fucking imagine walking into a police station and then a cell wearing that?
Love the story about the lamb born in Australia with five legs and two feet on the back of his head. Saying that, I’ve been out with girls uglier than that.
Aren’t people fucking moaners in the UK. Shut up already about soddin’ wheelie bins. Shut up. I mean, they’ve been a bloody godsend recently when I’ve lost my front door keys after a night down the pub.
Is it me or is Rod Stewart a nob? For the past twenty years at his concerts he signs 30 footballs and boots them really hard into the crowd. He thinks it’s funny. Well the poor fucking promoter who had to shell out £12,700 in damages to some poor who got twocked in the face by a ball and suffered whiplash injuries didn’t find it funny. And there was no need for him to then sign his hit ‘Foot Loose And Fancy Free’.
Shit myself reading the paper the other morning, I was still a bit bleary from the night before and saw a headline ‘Ladybird UK Threat Of Extinction’. Fucking hell, for one minute I thought I’d read ‘Ladyboy UK Threat Of Extinction. That would have ruined my social life.
Heard about this Chinese airline that have introduced a plane where everyone has to stand up and there are no seats. One – how the fuck do you put a seat belt on then? And two, well at least those tiny folk will now be able to see out of the windows.
Another great poll. Us Brits get the holiday blues just six hours and twenty one minutes after returning home after their hols. So these arseoles who conducted this survey obviously didn’t ask wankers who holidayed in caravans in Great Yarmouth or Skegness then. I bet it was like New Years Eve in their houses’ when they got home and put the kettle on.
