Celebrity arsehole Gordon Ramsay has not, it transpires, been burning his meatballs. The greens have not been overcooked in his meat and two veg. He remains a novice in the preparation of Grilled Cod Surprise.
I was washing my hair today so unfortunately had to miss the Diana concert at Wembley. However, the BBC has delivered a typically sterling account of proceedings which I’m sure is every bit as rousing as actually being there. Why not join in the fun atmosphere of the day by seeing if you can complete the following extract:
Sir Tom Jones, Sir Elton John, Bryan Ferry, Joss Stone, Lily Allen and Duran Duran are among the eclectic line-up.
It is 10 years since…
The answer, surprisingly, is “the princess died in a car crash in Paris in August 1997”, and not “any of them sold a record”.
Quite why a Dutchman should concern himself with producing a wobbly picture of Paxman with a cat on his head I have no idea, but concern himself he did.
It reminds me of the animation I once did of Wim Kok with an ocelot up his arse: I must dig it out some time. (At least I think that was the title.)
One of the excellent quotes of 2006 from The Observer, which includes an entire Paris Hilton section. But who was referring to whom?
No seriously. Lembit Öpik has left Siân Lloyd for one of the Cheeky Girls.
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.
Genius movie director Guy Ritchie discusses his complex masterpiece Snatch on YouTube, giving us all a rare insight into his high-IQ world:
(There’s a YouTube video here that you won’t see on the RSS feed. View it on the website instead.)
A day of looking at Mrs Osbourne’s evil witchy face (or even just half of it) was too much for me yesterday. Something had to be done.
The girls were more interested in watching last night’s Strictly Come Dancing and were pretty resistant to coercion, but once I hinted that Father Christmas might get involved I soon got some cooperation.
Irish crooner Chris de Burgh has paid 30 grand for the chest-burster from Alien. (Chris is the one at the top.)
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
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 just signed up for MySpace – not for one of their poxy horrible “blog” things, you understand, purely for experimentation purposes. Anyway, you’ve got to admire their efforts to keep the web free of colour blind people. Just imagine that – the colour blind preying on your kiddies and everything. It’s enough to make the flesh creep.
Update: It’s all a con! Celebrity colour blind Dairy-Arse is on there! I take it all back: MySpace is a nest of vipers. The colour blind are EVERYWHERE. Be vigilant.
I often find it helps to have a couple of Emergency Conversation Topics handy for when you hit one of those embarrassing silences amongst a group of friends. ECTs can either be memorised or if, like me, you’re a bit forgetful, you can write them down on a small piece of paper which you keep in your pocket. If you go for the latter I recommend a bit of practice in front of a mirror on your cribbing technique. For example, I usually sneak it out under the table with my right hand whilst exaggeratedly checking my watch with the left – that kind of thing. (Paul Daniels refers to this practice as “palming” – not to be confused with Debbie McGee’s practice of palming, which is something else.)
Anyway, without further ado, here’s the first ECT:
ECT #1: Isn’t that Gordon Burns off The Krypton Factor?
This one’s a cracker – completely fail safe, as you will see. It’s based around a few basic premises:
Just combine any of those facts and I’m sure you can already begin to see what a great ECT this is. Ignoring for now the possibility that you really have just spotted Gordon Burns, in which case all ECTs are unnecessary, you simply have to point at any middle-aged man with his back to you and away you go. Everyone will turn to look, at which point one of two things will happen:
This will then get everyone talking about their favourite sequences in the Krypton Factor (The zip wire? The giant shape puzzles? The general knowledge round? etc.). If you’re in the Manchester/Liverpool area you might also try reminiscing on memorable episodes of North West Tonight. If not, try the conspiracy theory that the Krypton Factor was shut down by Islamo-fascists inside the UK government for being too close to their own training camps.
Went to see The Departed last night. Don’t get me wrong, it was very good, but it did get me thinking: couldn’t they get Ray Winstone to play all the cockneys Don Cheadle‘s supposed to play, and get Don Cheadle to play the Americans Ray Winstone’s supposed to play? It would solve a lot of credibility issues, not to mention saving a fortune in wasted voice coach sessions.
Update: It’s just been suggested to me that Winstone is in fact play a Boston Irish hoodlum who has had a stroke which has left him with a partially Cockney accent. In that case I would like to commend his excellent performance and shift my criticism to Scorcese for losing this crucial back story detail in the editing suite.
What’s this? No sign of Diana on the Express front page??
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.
I had no idea the Daily Express was even sold down under, but clearly it is because these people are Express readers or I’m Mickey Mouse. The Express, of course, plays it all Gordon Brown today and brushes off any suggestions of involvement. Instead it leads where Newsnight will surely follow, with Diana’s tears as she helped bury friend’s baby at palace* and Back at work, the sex change gynaecologist.
* (says Burrell)