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 'So why write a bitter piece which is five years out of date?'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.

Best Before's Bitter Review of 2006

Oh what a fucking year, eh? youtube, thames whales, suffolk stranglers, bird flue, ecconomic migrants, Iraq bombs, beastly Israeli's, Russian poisoners, gaming, quiz phone in's, sensationalist TV, the descent of Richard Madeley, Cosmic ordering, Noel Edmonds is alive, James Brown is dead, Castro is on the brink, Zidane, Hypocritical Man Utd fans, Man City and their chav manager, death of chavs(?), nah...

But we don't or shouldn't define our year and our lives by what the newspapers and media think is relevant. We are in a strange phase at the moment. We have the virtual power to control our lives. (It is only virtual...someone else is pulling the strings, whether it's the god of Second Life or The Sims, or Murdoch or Gates, it's anyone's guess.) Thus we blog, we 'tube' and google. Of course these are just trends which will get a bit boring, and kids will find something else, and the producers all along will wish they could have charged for these services. But the interest for celebrity gossip and the like will ebb away as we create our own self-obsessed alter egos online, or before the media. (Just as Aerial Leve) So it is in this spirit at this time of year that I host the winners of the Best Before 'Soft Target' Awards, that I came up with a couple of days ago.

THE BEST BEFORE 'SOFT TARGET' AWARDS

Among all the 'times' we are part of, much of it out-dated, let us hope that one tradition that will eventually ebb away are the dreaded Award ceremonies which are just as ubiquitous as the really naff urban myth that kids watch youtube boreathons for longer than they play computer games, watch TV, eat, masturbate and go to school. It's an impossible dream to wish that everyone will wake up from their collective mediorce consciousness and realise that these ceremonies that reward this mediorcrity and popularity as opposed to craft or ANYTHING must stop, but I am a dreamer. Instead I will continue this mockery as a punishment to you all for contributing to yet another mediorce year. So here we go...

LIFETIME UNDER ACHIEVEMENT AWARD FOR BEING AN UNINTENIONALLY UNFUNNY BORE WHO AS LONG AS HE LIVES WILL NEVER BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY- Boris Johnson

MEDIA SATURATED FUCKER- Russel Brand/Jamie Oliver

THE 'OUT OF HER DEPTH' AWARD- Charlotte Church

THE 'NOT REALLY OUTSPOKEN AND WITTY AWARD AND IN FACT SHE'S JUST A GOOD LITTLE MIDDLE CLASS GIRL WITH A FAMOUS DADDY'
- Lily Allen

THE 'BAILEY RAE AND DIDO COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT BETTER' BLAND ALBUM AWARD- Lily Allen

THE LESS POPULAR BUT COINCIDENTALLY LESS MIDDLE CLASS THAT LILY AWARD- Lady Sov

A CUNTY SMUG FACE TO FRONT A SHITTY DERIVAVTIVE BAND THAT MORRISSEY AND PAUL WELLER USED TO LIKE-Preston

The YOKO ONO GOOSEBERRY AWARD-Chantelle

THE YOUTUBE CELEBRATION OF THICKOS OF ALL CLASSES AND AGES AWARD WHO ARE IN FACT THE REAL LAB RATS OF THIS SOCIAL EXPERIMENT-Big Brother Voters

THE BEST ARSE OF THE YEAR- The Saturday girl who works at my off license. Her arse really does hug those Miss Sixty Jeans like her life depends on it. How do I have the heart to ask her to sit on my face?

2006's MOST MEDIORCE PROGRAMME THAT COULDN'T DECIDED IF IT WAS FOR KIDS, FOR A RADIO AUDIENCE OR QUEER AS FOLK?-Torchwood

MOST OVERRATED BAND WITH THE MOST PUNCHABLE COVER ART-Arctic Monkey's

HUMBLE PIES AWARD- Robbie Williams

I DON'T REALLY WRITE OR RESEARCH MY ARTICLES BUT I CAN SNIFF THINGS AWARD-Victoria Newton (The Sun)

FAGHAG OF THE YEAR-Victoria Newton (The Sun)

BORING FACE OF THE YEAR AWARD- This goes to this bespectacled middle-aged Asian woman who sometimes waits at my bus stop. I feel like thumping her in the face just to give it some life and character.

SEXLESS GARMENT- For the fourth year running, the THONG. Girls, pay attention. IT DOES NOT LOOK SEXY PEEKING OUT ABOVE YOUR HIPSTERS no more than heels and jeans look cool!

Happy new year x
Smirnov

The Best Before Christmas Special Selection Box (Bumper Edition!)

Welcome to a special edition of this blog entry. It's my Christmas special. Yes I realise that it's a bit premature but fuck it, if I was a retail establishment I'd be almost three months too late. Might as well get my office party out the way. Not that I have a real office but I suppose a desk is enough. But it still doesn't stop me feeling a little abnormal because I don't have an office to party in, or indeed any office staff to party with, or seduce them in the stock cupboard. So it's difficult to not feel left out, because, according to the national press that's where all the action is, everyone's having office parties, they've always had office parties, well at least ever since This Life. Maybe the whole world is an illusion and we're all living inside one gigantic office or a photocopier...floating inside the water cooler...You know that thing, where everyone meets to have a 'moment', anything from Bluetooth, to the shite that Catherine Tate passes off as humour. So what can you expect during this Christmas special? Well, as well as exclusive access to my office party, you will have the opportunity during my christmas special to go panic buying. Make sure you've enough petrol first. You can NEVER have enough petrol. Just join a queue somewhere. Doesn't matter if you'll be using the car that much, just make sure you've enough to last you for a couple of months. Fuck everyone else. Now that you're all tanked up you will have the chance to unreasonably empty every supermarket of bread and burn it somewhere. Stop the fat families buying fifteen loaves for two days.

And I've been neglecting something. Perhaps you can help me with something. I've got some empty can of diet coke, some empty bottles as well, and I've emptied the toilet duck plastic bottles I've been collecting. I'm looking to using them as makeshift baubles and bells for the tree and perimeter of the house. Ideally, I'd like to light the toilet duck bottles from the inside. Any piece of crap that you can get your hands on would be much appreciated. Fuck the electric bill. They can sing for it! I'd like to put underfloor lighting to the paving stones that lead to my house, like Michael Jackson's Beat it video. If we can't over-indulged now then why bother?

My christmas special doesn't end here. You can also join me as I compose a review and a schedule of television, and we must include the tired old jokes about Wizard of Oz, Bond films, emaciated fairies, smelly grandparents, left over turkey sandwiches, Santa's tooth decay, deceased monarchs, nightmares about mummies eyes composed of big shiny blood soaked baubles, and how, in this time of goodwill, we hope and pray that Charles Saatchi collection will go the same way as Hemel Hempstead Oil refinery.

Finally, join me later on, wine and mince pies nearby, by the lights of my Christmas tree as we reminisce about the season in times passed, when, as a child, we loved bells and candles made of of clay and candy, how we made our own party crowns at school from crepe paper, and ate jelly and flirted with our teachers. And we sang Little Donkey and felt sorry for the mule humping fatty Mary all the way to Bethlehem. How odd we thought camels were, well before they names some cigarettes after them and how we secretly hoped we'd see that big guiding light in the sky. And everyone of us felt special and protected. Yes, we'll talk about those old christmas discos where they play Wizzard, Shaky and even Gary Glitter and shed little nostalgic tears at the innocence of it all, and the pointlessness of adulthood. Then we'll clink our wine glasses as we listen to Holes by Mercury Rev.

I think my christmas special is almost over. Thank you for joining me. And you can relive this christmas with me as much as you like by scrolling down. Maybe this isn't enough, I should leave you with a some chocolates or a black and white film, so you can curl up in your Ikea sofa as it pisses freezing rain against the window, and you can consider how lucky and blessed you are, that you're born in the west, and all those freezing people in the Indian earthquake are not as spiritual as you, or you aren't any woman in Ipswich who have to contend with the biggest threat in this difficult period: The panic stricken media. Is that what you want? Perhaps I could hold up some mistletoe, offer you a cracker, seduce your partner...In the meantime until 25th December, don't let all those people keep whinging to you how commercial christmas is getting. Was there ever a time when it wasn't commercial in your life? If they want to supplement their feelings and spend hundreds or thousands of pounds, no-one is forcing them. I have to dash now. I must look at the research on the new big conspiracy, the one that will shake the foundations of the Royal Family to the core. The one you might have heard of. Was it they who arranged the death of the Thames Whale?

Goodnight and seasons greetings. x

Breaking News...fear and loathing everywhere

At 3.35 p.m, an American Airlines flight from Bristol has been diverted due to fears fears that an asian trolley dolly wearing a crucifix, and a veil, refused to smile at a leering scumbag, who had his finger up her ass. The leading American airline which was thought to have carried a contraversial cargo which also included, Heather Mills' suitcases of false legs and cash and cracked potraits of Linda McCartney, vials of bird flu and the sars virus, deceased pedos, Romanian immigrants, a smug Russell T. Davies reading 'Heat' magazine, cancer sufferers, Matthew Kelly, crying racist girls, Jack Straw, Jewish evening standard journalists and one single magpie, had to to be diverted to Lebanon where it is thought a controlled explosion will later be carried out by a Sky news reporter with a shoulder held missle launcher, accompanied by studio laughter lifted from a Keith Baron moment in 1980's TV series 'Duty Free'. For obvious security reasons the as yet unnamed reporter will then be expected to turn the gun on themselves for all to see on youtube. A myspace page then will be set up to receive messages of condolence from well wishers and haters.

Moving on...plans are also afoot to create the country's first ASBO estate, where persistant anti-social families will be re-housed and given its very own community of black children to murder, cars to damage, its owners to also murder, and bus stops to piss and puke in, and to smash, and shag over the shards. Just in case they were under any delusion that there's fuck all to do in an estate.