That’s how a demented, blue-haired, swivel-eyed, octogenarian maniac might have described David Cameron’s smug, vapid, nauseating, disingenuous, pointless, dessicated husk of an address to the Tory party conference yesterday.

I, on the other hand, might have described it rather differently.

When officers had turned up to investigate they found Batchelor still partially dressed and with his flimsy thong on the wrong way round.

It’s so easily done, and after a few cans of Special Brew I’m told the chafing just doesn’t reach the brain. There are hospitals in Glasgow that specialise in reattaching testicles after just such incidents.

To the untrained eye, just two ordinary guys. Can you spot which one has his thong on back-to-front?

For Halloween, eighteen of us dressed up as the different parts of the Toolbar itself.
- Google blog

I hoped at first that it might be some weird new euphemism, but I’ve now come to the conclusion that they actually dressed as a toolbar.

Turns out that in September I offended a group of Icelandic fundamentalists with my cheap fisting gag. Icelandic fundamentalists are a lot like Islamic fundamentalists but with warmer coats and a fanatical hatred of Kerry Katona. They did some digging and found that I’d recently named my pet cat Björk and after that it was just non-stop hate mail, effigy burning, flaxen-haired trawlermen outside the house demanding my death – you know the sort of thing.

In a last-ditch attempt to placate them I renamed the cat Atomic Kitten and that’s when the shit really hit the fan. Should I have known about the Kerry Katona thing? In retrospect, yeah, perhaps I should. Call me naive if you like – I just thought it was a nice name for a cat. In the end I felt I had no option but to stage my own death, cash in on the life insurance, go to Panama and buy a couple of yachts. Honestly, it’s been a living nightmare.

But now I find myself back in the UK and I’ll say one thing for British prisons: they know how to keep a man safe from Icelandic fundamentalism. I could get used to it in here.

Just one final note for my next-door neighbour (whose identity is obviously best not revealed for her own sake): please tell Atomic Kitten I forgive her for all the trouble she’s caused and I’m not dead after all. And make sure you do it that way round: get her feeling guilty first and then hopefully you can slip the not dead thing in “under the radar” as it were. I know one day she’ll understand.

Timothy McGuckin, of Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts, breaks the world record for buying a telephone whilst being pulled backwards on a giant bungee cord yesterday. It’s the new sport of kings.

It’s hardly the stuff of Ancient Greece, but then they didn’t have a stupid Olympic logo either.

But how about the other guy – the one who didn’t marry the goat? What’s his story? Bet none of you thought of that, did you?

God, just get over the goat.

Britain’s Prince William, who did not marry a goat yesterday

The cost of sending 1.8 million e-mails is about £6,000, estimates Chris Lake, editor of E-consultancy.com which advises people on internet strategy.

“Last week I had lunch with someone who sends out 180,000 a week as a newsletter, which cost him £600,” he says. “That would make it £6,000, but it could be much less or much more. Plus there are the resources to craft it and put it together.”

There are lots of variables so we can’t be sure, he says.

Thank God he had lunch with another idiot in time, otherwise where would we be now? Sheer guesswork from some pillock, that’s where. Imagine that.

I don’t know why they didn’t go straight to Guy Goma.

There we were thinking he was a bit of a dick, but for a 12-year-old he was actually quite mature.

All I need to send her is my bank account details and the money’s mine! She doesn’t even tell me how she knows me, but I’m guessing our great-grandfathers knew each other in the Boer war or something. That’s how I understand it usually happens.

Needless to say I can’t believe my luck. This time next week I’ll be obscenely rich and can finally wave a fond farewell to this fucking blog. Honestly, it’s been a pauper’s game, and never a word of thanks. Good riddance to the lot of you.

It’s the look of panic in those evil piggy little eyes. There’s no question, the guy’s touched cloth.

This Iraq thing must be worse than we thought.

It’ll be amazingness unrivalled!
It’ll be impossible for it to be bad – this is Harry Potter we’re talking about, guys, haha … it’s going to be GREAT! No question.

of course its going to be good
I know of many other people who are sure that Harry Potter and the ???????? will deserve five stars, to find them just type “harry potter fan fiction” into google. I got 1,950,000 results and its probably still growing. click on any harry potter fan fiction site, an look at the lists of authors. Probably every single person there is of the opinion that book 7 will deserve 5 stars and will rate it accordingly as and when it comes out.

the end…
I’m very tempted to give five stars to it, because it’s bound to be great, but it wouldn’t be ABSOLUTELY honest, would it? So i tried just not to rate it, but that’s not allowed. SO, i have to resort to giving it 5 stars…

And just for balance:

dont get me wrong
the book will get five stars from me it will be awsome but the title will get zero

Grade-A nuts, the lot of them. They should be taken out and shot, or at least taught how to spell and punctuate.

Update: More Potter lunacy, this time from Royal Mail. Don’t be surprised when you hear your local post office is closing down this spring. The postal services have spending priorities just like everyone else, it’s just that theirs are informed by the logic of a madman.

We do know each other from two months, but didn’t actually go out together only from two weeks now.

said the Cheeky Girl.

I was going to do a picture or a joke to go with it but then I thought, why should I? Think up your own joke for a change. Go on, piss off.

He was clearly trying it on so without further ado I cut him down to size with a well-chosen machete.

I thoroughly recommend the book to anyone as it’s a jolly good read. Next up: ‘Ave That You Twat by Jimmy the Hatchet.

He also has a £14,000 letter from WWI, special healing hands and Miss World for a daughter. I’m telling you, this guy puts the RRROCK! back into rock star.

Rumour has it that Chris has written a special version of his hit song Lady In Red for his little alien, entitled Lady in John Hurt:

Lady In John Hurt

I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I’ve never seen you shine so bright
Mm-mm mm-mmmm

I’ve never seen so many men have to hold me down while I died
With you bursting out from inside
Then running off to hide

I have never even really noticed
How you look just like a horse’s cock with teeth
You’re beyond belief

The Lady in John Hurt is hatching in me, little freak
There’s nobody here
It’s just you and me, and-some-blokes-and-Sigourney (Weaver)
But I hardly know this beauty in my insides
I’ll never forget the way you made my chest burst open and all my blood squirt out

I didn’t say it was finished yet but it’ll be done for Christmas.

I could barely believe my ears:

Ministers and civil servants when you talk to them privately aren’t thinking about the beginning on today this Queen’s speech, they’re thinking: when’s he off and when’s the nude guy coming.

I’ve always thought very highly of Robinson in the past, but now I can see he’s just as demented and sex-crazed as the rest of them. I can hardly close my eyes without falling prey to the vilest images of him, knocking on my entrance with his Black Rod and such like.

And to think children could have been listening! Thank God ours prefer Radio 3.

I hope you’ll forgive my scepticism, I’ve had a long day. Plus I’ve managed to get hold of a photo of what’s really going on inside Google’s secret hangar, “Building 43″.

UPDATE: DROP EVERYTHING AGAIN! AMAZON’S BOUGHT ONE TOO!

Have they no heart? But wait… what have we over here? Why, if it isn’t the Daily Star, the Express’s special stablemate for those who prefer their daily wad of rat piss unburdened by small print and sentences:

Britain owes a debt of thanks to Richard Desmond for getting this remarkable scoop to us by whatever means available, and bonus points for not cheapening the Express in the process. I do wonder though if anyone’s warned the Star about those £100 fines.

Also, if you play the theme music to Last Of The Summer Wine backwards and turn the sound right up you can clearly hear the words “Africa must revert to what it was before the imperialists divided it”.