The Hype with Daniel Corbett

Greetings. As you may know I was invited to write the alternative Christmas message this year, exclusive to this website but, fate stepped in and decided to give me a touch of flu so like melting whipped cream on hot apple pie, I dribble sweet fanciful apologies. Not to fret, though. I've been asked to give you the lowdown on the hot spots and not spots for next year.

When I'm not surveying Great Britain from my domed palace in the clouds, making sure that the evil of weather of 1987 doesn't hurt my children again, I'm quite the connoisseur. My friends will tell you that I adore, simply adore, making jam and baking scones. But I also find popular music and the arts fascinating. When I'm not munching away on my jam and cream scones in my own private weather centre, in between bouts, of shoving the westerly winds back into the north sea, I also adore social networking. So let's have a look at the 'real deals' of 2008. Forget the poppycock of The Guardian, The Sunday Times and the bright young things of The Observer, this is where it will happen. And my predictions are usually right... for now.

Music
The bands to watch out for in 2008 include:

*The Serial Killers (a dubious tribute act of The Killers who had the distinction of actually forming the band and recording whilst on death row in Florida. Originally had five members. Now sadly a trio.)

*The Psuedophiles (Described as a 'bit like the Horrors but without the hairstyles.' And 'kazoos instead of crap guitars'. From Shoreditch.)

*The Mohammeds (Contraversial new act set up about a month ago. So exclusive that they haven't written any songs or learned to play instruments but the word is that they're all dressed as giant teddy bears and are about to go into a studio with Richard X)

*The Fopps (Ah, The Fopps. The new demo CD is already passing under the tables of trendy bars in Camden. Called 'Music Richard Curtis Can Dance To', it's surely, one would have thought, the album Mark Ronson would have made if he wasn't Mark Ronson, but Mark Ronson pretending to be Mick Ronson.)

Television
Ah, television. How I love my television. Forget the blistering waves of disenchantment that will come from attempting to invest 7 years of your life in another US serial, the BIG BIG US series will be the 17 one minute episode mini epic, 'Yalta'. Set on the Russian retreat, 'Yalta' follows the trials of a young Martian as it infiltrates Russia and form a pact with the US and Britain. Gripping stuff. Includes car chases, explosions, time travel, hard sex, and a soundtrack by Faithless.

As for 'Reality television', there's the Bakewell's Tarts series which is already set to be the talk of 2008. I'm rather fond of bakewell tart.

Trends
Facebook was last year's must have bookmark. With its pointless applications and endless daft notifications from friends and countless opportunities for self promotion, self-effacement, self-delusion and one upmanship, it was the only social networking site where no-one actually socially networked. Old wounds opened, new wounds inflicted, it, according to sources, became the cause of 47 suicides last year, 15 in Britain alone. Ah, but you can throw sheep at people! Do you see?

This year's hot web 2.0 application/social networking site that people are already using is WhoreMe.com, developed and maintained by Brian Wilson (not 'thee' Brian Wilson) Among the feature's it boasts is an add on called the 'Fetish Box' where you can type some of the strange fixations you have. Bingo! The Fetish Box will match them with those friends of yours who share the same perverted desires, and thus a mutual understanding will be born, new relationships will arise. The 'Blackmail' application (in conjunction with paypal) is also growing in popularity. What? You've never heard of this site. Where have you been in the last three hours? Everybody you know have already left Facebook ghosts of themselves to emigrate. Get on with it.

Fashion
The thing that girls will pick up, eventually, as they eventually do, after spending six months laughing and dissing it, as they do every year, as they did with tights and shorts combos, boots and jeans combos...and Beth Ditto's dress sense(Come on girls you know who you are!) will be catsuits. Already available in new fabrics and patterns they will kick some serious buttocks. My partner has one. In particular look out for the limited edition D&G Orange Peel number, recently modelled by my colleague Fiona Bruce at the BBC Christmas party. I have to say it didn't suit her. She's too gangly. No sex appeal whatsoever. It was as if Ruth Kelly was modelling it. Come on girls, display those curves.

Weather
My weather tips for next year include a band of rain, some blustery showers, a spot of light drizzle and a sprinkling of sand. Don't be too surprised that you won't encounter some light lemon hail around April. And some disturbed cloudy weather around the summer solstice. As ever, with the weather, and everything else, you never can be too careful and you should carry a brolly at all times.


Well, that's The Hype...for now!

Best Before Bitter Awards 2007

Yet another year, yet another review of about a couple of million reviews you'll skip in the newspapers or websites. But if you're familiar with mine you'd better stop scrolling down and pay attention! Unlike the other reviews I won't bleat too much about how great everything is or even bother to remind you what's happened this year. (I mean if you can't remember what has happened in the last 12 months, you're either too young to take anything in or too senile, or suffer from a mental illness, so it's not your fault, but for those too lazy to think, as ever you can fuck off.) So on with the awards. For me, 2007 has been the year of complete tits, but then again so are most years.

I can't believe it's the Catherine Tate Award
Catherine Tate.

This award was prompted in part from her continual shit sketch show and the venom aimed at her for having the audacity for being chosen to play the Doctor's new companion. It could have been worse, couldn't it? Well, couldn't it? Peter Kay? Kate Nash? The funny thing is that I'd never see someone outclassed and acted into the ground by Tony Blair.

The 'Fuck You', 'I won't Resign!' Award
Sir Ian Blair.

It's fortunate for him that he's not in the Liberal Democrats.

Permanent Bad Hair Award
Mika

Oh, and his album is still rubbish. But novelties do come and go.
In fact this trend for long hair on blokes, I don't find attractive at all. I'm not on about the Shoreditch mould, rather the fashioned shoulder length hair and big fringes, often sported by young boys on TV. Awful. It's so boring when everyone is metrosexual. (Remember that godawfuls series, 'Metrosexuality'? Probably be a big hit this days.)

The 'Cor blimey Award' for the Mockneys
Lily Allen
Amy Winehouse
George Lamb
Kate Nash
Feist
Example
Jamie T

I know, I know, Lily Allen, please, please fuck off. We are bored of you. No-one gives a shit about your weight, whether you're pregnant, whether you will or won't record again, or even your crappy blogs. Go away. You're a bore. Kate Nash might be better looking, and I'm sure when people in London get bored of mockneys, she can always do some cover poses with that fit woman off 'Heroes' for GQ or something but untill that day lay off the Damon Albarn in Parklife stylee, accent. No-one is convinced, you middle class twerp. You're no more cockney than the late Benazir Bhutto. Example, well, maybe he doesn't mean it, but on that Mike Skinner late night programme, he came across as a 24 carat tool! I'm sure he isn't thick as fuck and I'm sure he doesn't give a fuck but he did come across as a sixth form knobhead. Even Richard Archer was embarrassed. And , finally, George Lamb. Did you know there's a Facebook group that wants you off BBC 6 Music? The way you fawned over Lily Allen, you wanker! Fuck me, you really want to aspire to be Robert Elms? That's the way you're going. I'm sure you're the kinds of tossers who google yourselves for validation! Not from me, mate.

Please Fold Award
The NME
(Conor McNicholas)

Wouldn't it be great if the NME folded? Just think of it. All those wannabe music 'journalists' out of work. All that moronic and unfounded hype laid to rest. Remember The Darkness? What about Fischerspooner? They came good, didn't they? You heard it there first. As with some of the Sunday supplements they are very quick to tell you when their tip offs came good. If only they ran all the failures. Admit when they got it wrong, that their pretend tastes, don't always pay off, we'd have a bit more respect. Dont we love failure in Britain?

The Julie Burchill Predictable Award
David Cameron

You know there are some people whose mind and motives you can read, almost before they even open their big gobs. With Julie Burchill, she often goes against the grain for the sake of it, hence her predictable and not very well argued love of shitty girl bands and chavs. Cameron is similar. The moment the announcement came that he was going to do his speech at the Tory conference without an autocue, it almost gave political editors and commentators orgasms. Fuck the obvious gimmick, this is, they decided, a person who is sooo 2007, he must be a great future prime minister. He's like the twat doing the theatre course at college who decides to go nude to mask the fact that his dissertation has no substance. He's the crowd pleasing headline grabber who is second only to the McCanns, in promoting himself, rather than the message. If he has any policies then Nigella Lawson has real friends.

Earth Is Great. Human Beings Are Better. But My Baddies Are Really Shit Award
Russell T. Davies

Russell T. Davies seems to attract the worst aspects of the new Doctor Who, considering that he brought it back. With accusations of stunt casting (well founded) and the very patchy writing, plotting, duff recurring themes and characterisation, he's heading into Jonathan Harvey territory. He thinks we're all jealous because we're not writing it and we're all bitter queens and we don't hang out with BBC producers in Wales but he's mistaking jealousy for disappointment. We won't mention Torchwood. Shit, I've just done it.

Is it funny? Is it funny if I keep repeating it? Is it? Is it funny? Award
Katy Brand

Yet again BBC 3 has shown that this don't disappoint us this year when it comes to delivering ironically inoffensive cheap sketch show comedy, and Katy Brand delivers basic catchphrase humour at its worst. Congratulations. And by the way, repeating an unfunny phrase over and over again still isn't funny.

The Cheap Lousy Faggot Award
Sudan/Radio 1

Well not all of Sudan but parts of it. All this offence over a teddy bear. Yes, most in the west agree that there was a lot of backward stupidity, yes, fundamentalists agree that some of us in the west are ignorant. But this award is another example of the minorities insensitivity dominating and nannying the opinions and intelligence of everyone else. It was the same of the Jerry Springer the Musical bollocks. I know that the connotations of faggot are offensive. I know that when said by 'characters' they display the characters own prejudices and enable us to make our own judgments. When we seek to censor things because it offends someone we aren't on the yellow brick road to enlightenment, are we? Let people decide for themselves if they are offended. Don't tell us what to be offended by. I find most things offensive. But I won't censor them, I'd allow them dig their own graves. Pity we couldn't censor stupidity.

Bully Me Award
Sean Kingston

I'd hate to have him babysitting my niece. Just look at his face when he ogles the girls in his music videos. It's practically evil.

Cunt of The Year
Mark Ronson

Geek chic has another poster boy this year. This 'producer' is better known and responsible for buggering around and making Radio 2 lite classics. Not only does he also look like a prick and sound like a prick in interviews but arseholes like him who validate the hypes and the fuck ups that are Amy Wino and Lily Allen are sadists in my book. Music for Richard Curtis films is how to best describe this genre.

I'm a a bit tired now and Causality is on. There you go. Happy 2008.

Christmas Special: What's on television?

Every year television in Britain at Christmas is usually a forgettable affair. There's the predictable soap stories where some duff revelation is made and someones festive day is ruined, there's the repeats and there's never anything on the news, unless you have a tsunami to liven things up a bit. But all this is set to change in the next week as I have the real highlights of what's on TV this season. Set your DVD/PVR/VCR's folks.

SEPTEMBER 11TH in 3D (Sky One, 9pm, 20th December)

A moving and thought provoking high definition broadcast putting the viewer inside the picture of those all too familiar devastating events in 2001. Again. It really makes you put things into perspective. Involves tears, insincere ballads and the memories of those who weren't actually there but are famous enough to have their reflections broadcast, in the bizarre form of revolving talking heads around the site of the twin towers. Creepy. Narration by Peter Kay.

SCALING THE FACE OF ZOE WILLIAMS (Channel 5, 20th December, 9.55 pm)

Join Suzi Perry in this unique experiment in Trafalgar square as builders construct a massive roasted potato face of the Guardian's Zoe Williams. Members of the public attempt to scale the effigy and unlock its mystical secrets but will they just find a lot of trivial observations instead? They have an hour to complete it until a controlled explosion is carried out by London Met's bomb disposal unit. Compelling viewing.

CHRISTMAS IN VERSIONLAND with MARK RONSON (E4, 22nd December, 6.02 pm)

Mark Ronson is joined by guests included Lily Allen, Kate Nash, Tommy Steele, Amy Wino, Jamie T, Joe Brown, Buster Blood Vessel and the Doolittle Family to perform Phil Spector Christmas classics and selections from 50s and 60s musicals in a mockney, half arsed generic, psuedo-motown, probably ska-ish kind of way. This is a good one to have turned down while you're having a violent row.

AT HOME WITH SAM TAYLOR-WOOD (BBC 4, 22nd December, 11.15 pm)

Join the artist from the Brit school as she and her guests including Martin Creed attempt to undertake the task of putting together an installation (Home) which sees them attempt to live in various sections and branches of Habitat around the country for a week. After which the waste is sold off and the proceeds are given to Farepack. 'Imagine buying the loo that she's shat or puked in,' notes Wolfgang Tillmans. Thanks for that, Wolfgang. You prick!

BAKEWELL'S TARTS (New series) (Christmas Eve, ITV2, 7-25 pm)

Joan Bakewell presents this weekly 26 part erotic series/slices of life from sex bloggers. This episode features Julie Burchill playing the blogger 'Abby Lee' finding herself in a spot of bother when one of her 'shags' is a learning mentor who has a thing about ants crawling around her orifices. Features stupid and silly observations from self-appointed members of the Cliterati. Still the programme is worth it for the harpy yell at the start, when Bakewell declares 'Get your cocks and clits out!' I'm sure this will be the catchphrase of 2008.

BARRY GEORGE: IF I'D HAVE WASTED DANDO (BBC 1, Christmas Day, 3.30pm)

Talking the lead from OJ Simpson's controversial book imaging how he would have killed his lover, Barry George (played by Richard Hawley) goes back in time and carries out the flawless assassination. The planning and prep are so professional that the lack of evidence actually leads police to George himself. Who he also takes out. Before pulling the gun on himself. Features 'Who wants to live forever' by Queen. Moving stuff.

LOHANS FINAL SCORE (GMTV, Boxing day, 8.30 AM)

A bizarre experimental piece featuring a distorted reflection of Lindsey Lohan in the hall of mirrors begging 'I wanna score...I wanna score badly...come on...I need it!' For two hours. Features a couple of frames of Lorraine Kelly aroused by this.

x

Every Parent's Knightmare

What you get if you cross Thom Yorke, Brad Pitt, Kevin Spacey and Morgan Freeman.

Some light entertainment from Radiohead.

Sudan Impact

200.000 teachers marched across Europe yesterday to demand that Sudan be given 80 lashes after it emerged that President Omar Hasan Ahmad al-Bashir named his teapot 'Jesus Blood'. 'Death to those who insult our teddy bear teapots!' exclaimed one red-faced activist from the teaching union, NUT, yesterday.

Irish Blood On The Carpet

In other news, following NME's interview earlier this week in which they pretended to take the moral high ground over Morrissey's non-racist views about a nostalgic, romantic view of Britain that only existed in 1960's kitchen sink dramas, the NME has come under fire from me, Smirnov Kool. Writing on my own blog this afternoon, I said, 'The NME have a nerve. Not only do they continue to promote the blandest, conservative acts known to man behind their Londoncentric mockney, trans-atlantic 3D glasses, but isn't this the same magazine that constantly fails to be more international? Isn't this the rag that forever runs polls, lists and features on white, English, guitar driven artists, some of who have views for more offensive than Morrissey? The NME in the last 7 years have committed more moral crimes than Morrissey ever did. I wouldn't mind if they were decent journalists or had something new and fresh to say. It's no wonder our kids are shanking and shooting each others faces off when the other alternatives involve spending time reading about and watching Jamie T(wat), Kate Nash (Dido for kids), Thomas Tantrum, Lily Allen and the infestation of boring and inoffensive cunts.'

Brand Normal

And finally, the Dawn French wannabe, Katy Brand was recovering last night after discovering that her pamphlet of carefully fashioned catchphrases went missing in Whetherspoons. Brand, no relation to archaic Russell, who still has to shoot to fame for her hilarious portrayal of Kate Winslett in her BBC 3 comedy, 'Katy's Fat Anus' as a 'normal' person ad nauseum, long after we've got the joke, is said to be in a state of shock. The rumours of her offering anal sex as a reward are untrue. Lucas and Walliams were unavailable for comment. This recent news comes only hours after it was discovered that Peter Kay has been dead for the past three years, hence the endless DVD reissues.

I've been updating some of the old posts with lovely videos and stuff. Please take some time to work through them. Included are videos from Kate Bush, Goldfrapp, Sparks and Desireless. All better than a pot of cold piss.

Best Before Manifesto, according to Churchill

This piece comes with no notes. It's totally unscripted and therefore transparently sincere. It represents what I believe needs to be done to improve culture, society, media and politics, and importantly what my role will be in this. I intend to present these thoughts to open forums throughout Britain, accompanied by a life size cut out of Robert Wadlow and Maxine Carr's French football shirt with the witty and memorable 'I've Scored' slogan. It helps if you read this in the voice of James Earl- Jones or Winston Churchill.

I promise I will continue to do all in my power to slam the doors of opportunity in the faces of those who might have given me a break in developing a career in the media, theatre or publishing world. I promise to bite the hand that feeds from every literary agent, manager, editor and to remove any scrap of hope they may offer me. If only to save the disappointment of the inevitable. I will do this and more, safe in the knowledge that I will pledge to TRY and not mock soft, easy targets like the Daily Mail, Britney Spears or Vernon Kaye, but have the courage to make unpopular decisions, necessary for the growth of enlightenment among billions of disadvantaged people who have not been challenged or stimulated for many years now. I will be only too pleased to hold Mother Teresa or Martin Luther-King to account. If it's simple bitch slapping and idle uninspired gossip you want, you are welcome to visit the weak Perez Hilton clone sites. I do this because I care. Of course I do.

I want a Britain (and indeed a world) where the term 'aspiration' should no longer go hand in hand with rewarding stupidity, presenting emaciated models as being an acceptable size, owning child killing SUV's as an acceptable mode of transport which best defines your upwardly mobile status, no longer compete with other mediorce people to attain mediorce aspirations, fame and celebrity, absurd hairstyles, saying the word 'Carbon footprints' or emissions because you think it makes you look great, commissioning and transmitting 'aspirational' US teen shows...and Hollyoakes. But one in which your contribution to a progressivley intelligent society not a devolving Britain, part of a devolving world. Becoming a singer or a dancer on some bland talent show is not a credible aspiration. Lots of people sing and dance but with the added bonus that they create their own material not mimick it from the television or radio that transmits the substandard originals. The current elite needs to be dismantled in order to create the new elite. So you better listen up Peaches Geldoff and Nigella Lawson, it ends here. Equal rights for the experimental, for the ugly, for the poor, for the aesthetically challeneged, for the bitter!

I yearn for a Britain where concepts and ideas such as alternative medcine, spiritualism and religion whenever mentioned in polite society are treated as if you've anally abused a pigeon or a pike that has died of old age.

I want to live in a Britain where the very word 'Britain' is not continually misused in the tabloid media, when what they are really referring to is right wing England, and not the whole of the Isles. I want a Britain that is proud to be pedantic, and yes, to some extend proud to be patriotic, but not one where the media constantly patronises its subjects by asking them 'What does it mean to be British?' It's such a daft question anyway, like asking what does it mean to adore cheese spread or what does it mean to hate Gary Linekar?

You know something else? I'd stand for a Britain that is proud to be controversial. What often gets presented as controversy often is no more than a storm in a teacup. In our climate of never ending hypocrisy how are we supposed to have rational, gleeful sometimes, debates about difficult and real subjects for fear of being treated as the non-existent anti-christ? Leave the social construct 'morality' out of the argument, then we'll talk. Being offended isn't a right restricted to the few and it doesn't exist to cloud the subjects underneath. Let's stick a knife into the heart of the matter and twist it a few times. Twist it.

It's time we had a Britain that defines 'chavs' not as the middle-upper classes in society who have questionable dress sense and taste but quite rightly the working class scumbags who haven't the awareness or mentality to realise that the mismatched knock off's they wear look truly ridiculous, before being hi-jacked by style glossies and watered down to look even more comical. And let's not get into the cheap rent-a- limo culture! Come on, the middle classes are embarassing enough without trying to manufacture a cool sub-culture for themselves. Which leads me onto my next point.

I want to contribute to a Britain that doesn't apologise for dysfunctional families and deprived areas as an excuse for criminal activity or the loss of morals in society. This excuse can never wash when many people have come from similar backgrounds, have been abused, have been deprived of opportunity but have gone on to better things. Something else must be at work among these indivduals who defile our world and make it an unbearable place to eat on public transport without having to put up with the tinny tones of shit music, as an advertisement for how boring and shit some people are. Being unwashed really is the least of our worries.

Britain must not be afraid to be ashamed of itself from time to time. We do get it wrong, we do have poor taste, we aren't what we were, and even that was nothing to be proud of. Our public transport is a disgrace, much of our infrastructure is in a mess and the European counterparts which our rags spend so much time dissing have better services, and can speak our language when we can't be arsed and expect to be treated like colonial rulers. When you live in a country where some quarters actually takes seriously Boris Johnson for the candidtate for London Mayor, who feels that his bumbling and winning humour on 'Have I Got News For You?' is enough to get him by, then you know you're in trouble. I'm sure we can all have fun imagining what a London September 11th might be like with him in charge but the issue here is that as with everything else I've mentioned, Boris is almost like the symbol of stupidiy and mediocrity that we've come to rely on too much in this country. It's there in our middling sporting achievments, which accounts for the mass hysterics on Lewis Camelot, sorry Hamelton. Let's get this house in order.

I want a Britain that really stands by equal rights and carries it through to its logical conclusion. One day I'm sure we hope to see someone with special needs or mental illness stand for a member of parliament or even Prime Minister. It would bring great peace of mind to consider that we live in a world where literally ANYONE no matter your circumstances can be the head of the government. Imagine that for a moment.

I demand a Britain that fully realises and understands that Peter Kay is not the comic genius you think he is but a substandard, substitute for the end of the pier acid porridge that spews from the mouth of Roy 'Chubby' Brown, the sort of kid you enjoyed bullying at school, someone who should be laughed AT for his blindingly obvious weak and lazy observations and gags which are older than Jimmy Tarbuk's mid-60s rent boys. I know you will join me in destroying his mother's bungalow and that the good will you once had will be consigned to no more repeats of his show at Blackpool Tower, and placed back in the care of Dave Spiky and the Christmas Crackers he nicked his gags from. Same goes for Jimmy Carr and Alan Davies. No longer should we put up with lame jokes on QI, and the sweeping looks of affection and attention aimed for Stephen Fry's sympathetic approval.

What about a Britain that recognises Pete Doherty not as the misunderstood musical genius who has yet to realise his potential, but as a drug addled fuck up who wastes every chance offered to him, and if he was anyone else he would be rotting in prison? Can we really stand by as we allow this poor, inoffensive victim, with his inoffensive songs be promoted and fed drugs by the media in the hope he will go to an early grave? Can he really be compared to the excitment and talent of Alex 'Hurricane' Higgins, who really did piss and gamble his life away and survived to tell the tale? We must have a Britain that denounces his followers as car crash chasers and not give them the satisfaction that they desire in the effort to tearfully tell the grandparents 'I was there when Doherty burned! I lit candles, played Libertines demos, smoked a spliff with my mates as we all looked at each other and said, 'Mm, Ian Curtis, again.' We must put him in a pullover, forcibly put him in the care of the Val Doonican estate and allow him time to develop his craft as a storyteller, so he is able to give decades of pleasure to our children as a raconteur of nursery rhymes.

We must we live in a country that celebrates the death of Guy Fawkes as the hero that never was, rather than a villain. I know many of you would have more fun burning the stealth murder Dick Cheney or Rumsfeld. Or even Linda Barker for that matter.

So in all my endeavours I will continue to legally I should think, burn the bridges that may have led me to opportunity in the hope that you won't have to, and if during my endeavours, success does come my way again, you can rest assured that I will stand by my views and use my position to carry forward this awareness, which is being neglected by the current figures in entertainment and politics, so pre-occupied with fame and charity and engaged in the stuff that is geared towards inflating their image. Never again do you have to be disappointed or unfulfilled. I accept that this may not have been a speech that will have made Alison Pearson's granny knickers wet nor will it play to the sensibilities of many political commentators or coloumists who got off on the gimmicky speech that David Cameron gave at the Tory conference a couple of months ago, nor will it stop the likes of Russell Brand, Lily Allen. Mika, Kate Nash and publications such as the NME continuing their devolution but it's a start and I know that with your support we can spread the word.

In the words of Luther-King, 'I may not get there witcha.' But I will be watching...Britain is safe in my hands. I thank you.

Start

For those irregular new visitors to this blog and to any new arrivals you won't have noticed that I've actually been working on updating and giving this place a facelift.

You may have noticed (if you paid careful attention) that I haven't posted a new blog for a while now and what I have posted has remained characteristically bitter but hopefully with the intention to entertain, think on the page, wonder, question, despair and all that sort of stuff. And while I do enjoy getting some concerns off my chest there are things that I do genuinely adore and find soft, sensual and cuddly.

But I will not shirk in my responsibility to continue to capture the media and popular culture inside the prism of my bitter glare and to raise my fist at them and go 'Ooh, bad! You bad thing!' But hopefully in a more entertaining way than that. I'm not Perez Hilton. I'm not Popbitch, Holy Moly, Popjustice or the spate of these sites that have been doing this kind of thing far, far later than I or indeed millions of us out there have done for years in one form or another, excpet for The Onion perhaps or Private Eye. So have a browse at some older posts. If you like them, fine. If you don't, 1. I don't care much BUT 2. You could always try again in a week or a month and maybe there'll be something you do like. Now here's something for you to enjoy which is NOT a guilty pleasure.

Ten Years Naked

There's something wrong in this country when we allow style and improvement programmes who take their lead from tacky glossies and dubious fashion events dictate the way we eat, look, dress, undress, parent, decorate, spend money and rip off house buyers. Of course I, as so many before me, have made our views known on this subject and met with a wall of vacant silence. 'So why write a bitter piece which is five years out of date?' Er... because god made me do it, guv!

What is particularly hateful about hiring Gok Wan and according to Channel 4 the 'cool and collected' Miss Nicky Hambleton-Jones (who by the way looks at least in her late 40s. Maybe she's actually 58. Result!) is that some sadistic fuckers have looked at these new media reprobates, their lack of style and thought, 'Cool. Let's give them a series! Let's show the dumpy, frumpy public how to look good,' and then go and get it spectacularly wrong...everytime. Believe me in the media it is who you know if you want to get on. I've been there and back. I'm not adverse to confidence boosting makeovers or shopping jaunts but please spare me the condescending tone from so called experts who leave much to be desired. Mica Paris is no great example as well. She could probably scratch living for some poor souls as a BBW prostitute, or rather a BW.

But going back to 10 Years Younger there's a very naive and patronising notion where when selecting garments and accessories these Hambleton types base their decisions on the fact that just because the air-headed OK magazine wearing anorexics are being seen with them, such as beach bags for example, or that Ana Mantronic has supposedly made red hair fashionable, then these are decent, stylish measuring sticks. Honestly, it's all rather loathsome! I'd be highly dubious of anyone who takes their lead from WAG-inspired glossies. Maybe if it was a programme called 'How To fuck Up Your Life', or 'How To Become Dependent on Class A Drugs', or 'How To Look Like a Complete Laughable Fuckwitt in Public With your Faux Mrs Beckham Postboxed Mouth Posturing' then you'd have a reasonable point.

'Well if you don't like it, don't watch it...ner ner ner...' defenders of this shite might well say. 'I love it. It's car crash tele. It's harmless bit of fun!' Well, so is strangling IT girls but I wouldn't necessarily want to watch it on TV. Actually...

As for Gok Wan, you may wonder why he doesn't go naked. But let's be fair, fully clothed he still looks like the plastic surgery went very wrong following a train wreck. It's all very sad.

Open Heart Bitterness

In a new approach to interviews here's some answers I gave to the recently defunct Italian-English style magazine 'La Fashionata Espresso'. (It folded after two days on sale) To make it marginally more fun I've held back the questions.

It's hateful. Monkey TV and Will McDonald should be sent to the Hague for crimes against humanity. I thought Channel 4 couldn't get any lower than Balls of Steel or the Minipops but they've clearly proved everyone wrong. I've offered Channel 4 a way out with my sit-com 'Hart and Soul' starring Tony Hart and David Soul but are they interested?

Well she was always a natural successor to the stooge comedy of Bella Emberg, was Dawn. As for Pam Ann, she's crap as well. Lip Service are far better female entertainers.

I blame the concept of regeneration. I think we should have MORE Poles over here in the UK. We're not European enough. Even better why don't we kick all our scumbags out or swap Warrington for Kracow. The Salford dossers should go to Gdansk or Zimbabwe. Let Mugabe feed them.

I never saw anyone in 2006 wearing a trilby that didn't look like a complete shit.

Sonia from Eastenders inspires a harder erection than Nelly Retardo ever could.

Poor Edith Bowman.

He should design council estates, should Jonathan Ives. But it'd look good for about 2 days before it all gets pissed on, scrawled on and smashed to bits like the cheekbones of an abused whippet. I can see the streets now. There'd be shards of cider bottles scattered everywhere and tear stains left over from the insignificant lives of teenagers with their petty relationship woes. It's all ery sad.

Peaches Geldoff. Writer and DJ? OK then...

I'm bored with labels. The future is Primark.

There's not enough Jack Klugman's in the NHS.

I think Dolphin's have always been laughing at us. It's nothing to do wuth the structure of their mouths.

I've always found him a repulsive laughing stock. There's nothing endearing about him. It's an act, like he's pretend routine of jogging and cycling. He's also a nasty piece of work as that business with Kimberly Quin clearly displayed. If Cameron had down syndrome and wore a mop on his head you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the two.

Bitterness is great. It's far from self-destructive. It's creative. Without it you wouldn't have had Kafka, Dosteovsky, David Icke or Shaylar. Bitterness keeps me going. It's my fuel. And it's green in more ways than one.

Findus have served up far superior meals than some of the shit I've tasted at the hands of Ramsey, Worral-Thompson and Oliver.

Who care's about Ariel Leve's hang-up's? I'm sure Sunday Times readers don't.You may think I'm an attention seeker but she gives the words 'attention' and 'seeking' substance.

I still don't know who Rod Liddle shagged to be so ubiquitous.

I'm nothing like Perez Hilton. Whoever they are. I get the feeling he LOVES the subjects he discusses, almost to an unhealthy sexual degree. His targets are far too soft and predictable, whereas with me everyone's a target, everyone's a bastard out to screw you.

The Ronsons: A fairytale that never was

I never told this anyone before but it's true. In the mid 90s, before I met Fritz, I used to be in a band called 'The Ronsons'. We were basically a crappy covers act doing what we thought were quirky, jazzy, cover versions of ska/post punk and new wave. Our look was a punky meeting between Edwardian and Victorian, with a touch of neo gothic thrown in...mixing it up...and everytime we spoke to anyone in this guise we'd always say 'yeah' at the end of every sentence.

We thought we were so cool and post modern. I'm positive George Lamb would have loved us. We were working on an album that would change the world, full of covers of 'yeah, yeah' pop, 70s disco, Manchester indie...but keeping it ever so LDN real. Record companies told us we were shit and our style and image would never work. Of course one of the members Mark left, made a really shitty annoying version of a Radiohead song and made an album of awful, awful covers with some dreadful people. (He couldn't sing then either) And currently George Lamb and every LDN record exec are spunking over him and his coke headed mates.

It's a funny old world.

Mind That Child!

For heaven's sake won't somebody please think of the children, please! It's been a while since my last post as I , like most of you, have been engaged in the hunt for Maddie, which MUST take priority over everything in our lives. Fears are now escalating since the recent sightings of the poor child in Greece. You wonder if only Elvis has had more false sightings for all the good it does anyone. It's clear that this campaign to reunite this blonde , white, middle class, christian aspiring girl to her painfully dedicated parents hasn't gone FAR enough. The banner ads, the avatars, the websites, visits to the pope, the FA cup final, the planned charity single and the projection on the moon are all very well but will it raise awareness to inspire a crook to go 'fair cop, guv!' Indeed, will anything? Perhaps a reward should go to the abductors. That seems to be the only way we might get a breakthrough and it seems no less cynical than the alternatives we've seen over last couple of months.

No, it's clear. We're not pretending to care enough? We're not releasing enough balloons! Has anyone contacted the UN? And what the hell are the witchunters on the Sky News Forums doing about it? Don't they realise that it's the sacred duty of the stupid and misguided to continually post how concerned and caring they are and marry it with the brutality and suspicion they give to anyone who 'may' be a suspect? If we want to raise awareness, and it's very well, appearing to 'mean well' but what about the hundreds of missing kids every week, who don't have or get access to the media, that don't have the same opportunities? 'Maddie' is not a mere symbol of all the missing kids and 'every parents worst nightmare'. She's become yet another example of media hype, moral panic and the drive to sell more copy, the cynical trophy of the newsworthy girl with well to do parents with looks to match. She encapsulates the cosy, perfect idea of the nuclear family, which is more heightened than that of the kids from the streets, the black kids, those from broken homes and council estates and all the other poor sods who get abducted, murdered and god knows what every day. I'm not suggesting they deserve out sympathy any more or any less but you probably don't need a 'blogger' like me to say that there should be balance, and yeah, it's shit that there isn't, but for fuck's sake, those of you, who haven't realised the other agendas going on are the ones to wake up, instead of posting your fucking banners to show what a great human being you are. In fact why not fill every single web page of all the banners of all the missing people of the world who undoubtedly have parents no matter what age they are? But hey, I guess I'm not saying anything that you haven't already read or thought about anyway.

What's the deal, Noel?

When Deal or No Deal first came onto our screens a couple of years ago now it was a strange and curious, not to mention addictive little novelty for all the dole scum and housewives, and an interesting alternative to the majority of shitty middle class childrens television (apart from My Parents Are Aliens which is actually very amusing).

Yes, it was theatrical TV, there was an unseen banker, greedy contestants and Noel was back! Hey! It was like 1993 again, if you forgive 1997's Brass Eye gaff where he came across as a bit pompus and childish just because he chose to condem a non-existent drug called cake. Then there was the end of the series where it was reported that he killed Clive Anderson and escaped in a helicopter. So for a while it's been nice to have him back. was all nice. A honeymoon of sorts. But I don't think he's ever had a day off.

I'm fucking bored of it now. It's on EVERY DAY. I stopped watching about a month or so after it started but whenever I'm at home and I catch a bit of it, I realise that it's got more pathetic. In another great example of SPS (Stupid Public Syndrome) contestants bring all their little photos, teddies and cards and mascots in the daft and their shitty systems, in the belief that it'll have some impact on how much money they go away with. They even think by being 'positive' and cheering, inducing audience applause and hysterics it makes a FUCKING DIFFERENCE! (I'm so glad when they get next to fuck all. I'm almost erect.) And when the rest of the contestants link hands I just want to cut their arms off. Stupid fucking cunts!

One culprit, among many of this stupid spiritual approach to positive thinking has to be this jism called 'Cosmic Ordering' which evidently has made many people a lot of money, like all other fads, which is positive of course for your Edmonds', McKenna's of the world. The idea that you ask the cosmos to bring your vague dreams is of course bullshit, Astrology at best, and like all these arseholes with dreamcatcher's and fucking tarot cards, and astral projection and those who believe in the abstract 'spiritualism', it's just quackery. Do me a favour, if you meet anyone who describes themselves as being 'spiritual' just kick them between the legs. These fuckers only say this shit to appear all sensitive and to get laid.

Speaking of damb squibs, how long must Ricky Gervais act like his 'dance' is an albatross to try to elicit a transparent response so he can do the tiresome routine AGAIN! Message to Rick: Write some new fucking new funny new material and stop riding on the coatails of past successes and past comedians. Better still, give it up. You make Peter Kay seem quite good.

SONY vs Religion

Sony bosses last night have called for a ban of all religious icons, products and its 'a-hem...teachings', citing, its 'corruption of youth, the naive, the gullible and stupid weak people.' A spokesperson for some company or other said 'Here we go again. Yawn,yawn, double standards. Crusdades an everything...' The scientist, Professor Richard Dawkins was unavailable for comment.

Why I should be the new Director-General of the BBC by Smirnov Kool

As the new boss of the BBC I would push for the license fee to be raised to £2,000 a year. Which is a fair amount when you consider what it will fund.

-a continuation of massive pay rises for key staff and media personalities, including BBC institutions such as Terry Wogan, Jonathan Ross, Graham Norton and Natasha Kaplinksy. Oh, and Fiona Bruce, since the 10pm News slot is SO important.

- More self-satisfying adverts for the BBC channels at EVERY OPPORTUNITY.

-Drama and Comedy will continue to be produced at a fraction of our US counterparts. And it will show.

-More game shows like Strictly Come Dancing and spin off's featuring F-list celebrities, funded by YOU, the license payers, and those who pay the telephone bills, whether or not you are able to have your vote counted, you pigs.

-More money will be plunged into delivering MORE formulaic half-hearted dramas and comedy programmes, esepcially for BBC3 to further the careers of the unfunny and uninspired writers and actors and creatives, who have fuelled the rage of many a bitter student rag and blog writer.

-More cash for Russel T. Davies and his producer friends for them to have massive piss up's, and for their sex orgies to take place at various penthouse flats where coke and swinging will go on in front of 70" plasma screens, running loops of Torchwood. Perhaps there is enough scope for yet ANOTHER spin off of Doctor Who called ROSEWOOD or CASSANDRAWOOD. Or even a Doctor Who spin off channel called WHO CARES, BBC?

-More cash for BBC new stationery, some new offices, carpets, desks, water coolers (for those essential water cooler moments the BBC dream of producing) and more desks, and offices, and nifty Apple desktop computers and MacBook pros. (Put me down for a Titanium one with the Super Combo drive)

-An increase in my personal salary, at least 250% which is reasonable for an executive like me who has to do all the really hard work, putting in more overtime, delivering more presentations, planning, researching, meetings, getting my PA to get my banana bread delivered on time. It's tough, making tough decisions. Money's not everything you know.

-Even though the rivers of cash we've had flowing for years and the profits we've amassed could afford us the opportunity to give something back that we lack in quality such as a successful Digital Switchover, which we already know won't happen untill 2015, certainly after the 2012 Olympics, we won't foot the bill for license payers to arrange LCD/plasma screens, digital set-top boxes or anything, we'll plunge some of it towards MORE and MORE pointless costume dramas of the most mediorce British novelists and writers.

-We're planning a mandate that doesn't only require householders to pay the TV license but ANYONE who watches television. I am sure that everyone is only too pleased to contribute to our beautiful and talented institution which brings you quality television like Comic Relief, the National Lottery and all those programmes that allow you to interact with your too generous financial contributions ON TOP OF YOUR LICENCE FEE. That's why we give you something back like Planet Earth and Walking With Dinosaurs. The awards we win are YOUR awards, but obviously you don't get to keep them. And because we remain a FORWARD THINKING company, as a treat to you this is what we shall propose.

-4 new channels. (Subscription obviously. Which is compulsary)

BBC FETISH. Dedicated to soft core porn. (£399 per year)

BBC DEMIX
youtube for television. A channel that broadcasts your three mins of pranks, meaningless monologues, dance routines, car surfing and mindless stupidity. (£30.00 per month.)

BBC ELITE
a channel dedicated to chin stroking reviews of cultural events featuring Mark Lawson interviewing a question mark, during the forthcoming Italin Futurist season.

BBC REGIONAL
Why only have an hour or so of news bulletins and reports from your own regional area when you can have rolling 24 hour news footage of mundane happenings and the odd pointless stabbing for the Region AS IT HAPPENS? BBC REGIONAL is the answer.

We may also rethink our strategy on the National Lottery. Maybe we could lose 'Casuality' and dedicate Saturday evenings to three hour long programs to gaming, phone in's and quizzes. Channel Five are welcome to their fucking Prison Break's and CSI's.

In the spirit of the new technology and lust for the nostalgic, which was exemplified by the pilot for 'Duet Impossible;. where through the magic of television classic deceased artists were unitied with 'living' by musically deceased artists, maybe we could bring back classic BBC shows and presenters. Imagine Nick Ross with Jill Dando, together again, as Crimewatch, is on the case for some immigrant crackhead.

So there you are. Keep funding the BBC. Without your input we couldn't possibly continue make challenging, daring programmes that set us apart from the rest. We really are great. Really. Everything's great.