Here's your viewing tonight on CBoobies!
22.00 Foreplayschool
Jemima gets upset as Johnny Balls presents his Little Ted while Hamble laughs like a drain. Humpty shows Big Ted his round window.
22.20 Boogie Boobies
With Lesley Judders
22.35 Tellytotties
La-La goes Dipsy while Tanky Wanky does a Po.
23.00 Blue Peter Duncan
Presented by John-Thomas Noakes and Floella Benjamin-Laden. Peter Perves in the Blue Peter Duncan Sunken garden.
23.30 Big Cock Little Cock
Kids will collapse in gales of helpless laughter as our favourite hob-nobs, Big Cock Ben and Little Cock Small, cook up a recipe for disaster, and tidy away their bits and bobs - the things that help them do their jobs - in the most ridiculous cafe in the world.
THEY DON'T KNOW HOW TO COOK, THE STUPID FUCKERS, AND THEY ONLY EVER HAVE ONE DINER PER DAY. WHERE THE FUCK IS FUCKING GORDON FUCKING RAMSAY WHEN YOU NEED HIM? HELL'S FUCKING KITCHEN IS WHERE HE IS, REPEATING ON ITV2 RIGHT NOW - EXCEPT THAT THIS IS FUCKING HELL'S KITCHEN. AND IT'S UTTER SHITE. AND THAT FUCKING CLEAN-UP SONG? JESUS.
Don't bother watching.
23.35 Play Away
Swinging fun with Toni Arthur and Brian C*nt. Songs about meeting new people and making special friends in new and different places.
23.50 Underground Ernie (Special edition)
More action in the dark from everyone's favourite tunnelling chum. This week Underground Ernie discovers a rusty sheriff's badge with the help of his new friend, the Chocolate Speedway Rider, on the Northern Line.
00.00 It's Our Plant!
Sit back and relax, children, it's a marajuana special!
00.15 Animal Tragic
Laughs aplenty at this fish-centred programme which your kids will love. Today we look at stingrays! Presented by Steve Irvine, and with voices by Johnny Morris.
00.30 The Koala Brothers
Antipodean animal action from the two Aussie tree-loving fuckers. They're here to help! ''Helping is so much fun!", they sing... Well, HELP US ALL BY FUCKING OFF AND STAYING IN YOUR FUCKING TREE. Go BACK TO SLEEP. AND FUCK OFF. PLEASE JUST FUCK OFF.
00.45 Come Outside!
Pippin the dog and Auntie Mabel do what they do best: fuck in public. Enjoying themselves and each other, they also manage to come outside at the same time. (rpt)
01.00 Lazytown
Nothing happens. Again. Except to all the hyperactive fucking characters who sing and dance like fucking twats. But still nothing happens. They're fuckers, the lot of them.
01.20 Mary, Mongo and Vadge
Underage fun with the mentally disenfranchised dog, a mouse and Mary. Fun, fun, fun. Especially the bit in the lift. Going down!
(Certificate 18)
01.35 Watch (Educational programme)
Just watch. This week it's about trouser zips and how easy it is for some men to take them down. Just Watch. Jesus H Christ.
01.55 Words and Pictures
The word today is 'fannyflap'. Today's picture is of Margaret Thatcher.
02.05 That's Enough!
Big penises. Mirth, girth but most importantly fun! Desperate Dan is jealous for a bit of cow pie as Roger the Todger talks about his advance into manhood. And about his advance into Minnie The Minx. It's a Beano! And it's Dandy!
02.07 That's More Than Enough!
Vulnerable young girls explain the pain to Jeremy Kyle. They're unaware that despite his initial persona as a nice and friendly man, he's about to verbally kick seven sorts of shite out of them as they try to defend themselves on national television; the ensuing result of which is that none of those people have any sense that once they return to their hometowns, their neighbours will will rip the shit out of them, too.
IT'S A FUCKING DISGRACE - A PROGRAMME IN HIS NAME ON WHICH HE INVITED THEM TO APPEAR IN THE FIRST PLACE TO DEAL WITH THE SHITTING TOOLS OUR FUCKING COUNTRY, GOVERNMENT, SOCIAL SERVICES AND EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM AND EXPERTS COULDN'T DELIVER. WHAT FUCKING SUCKERS THEY MUST SEEM TO YOU, KYLE, AND HOW YOUR PROGRAMME ENJOYS EXPLOITING THEM IN YOUR STUDIO'S LARGELY STUDENT AUDIENCE, WHO FREQUENTLY LAUGH AND, WITH YOU, KYLE, RIP THE PISS AS YOU PROWL LIKE A DOG WOULD, IF IT COULD SEE AN INJURED SQUIRREL. RIP THE PISS, WHY NOT?. LET'S TAKE THE LAST STRIP OF DIGNITY THEY OWN, EH? YOU, WITH BIG BROTHER, ARE AT THE LEAD OF THE FUCKING CHARGE OF TV SHITE, SWANNING AROUND LIKE A FROWNING VULTURE. AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO PUT YOUR NAME ON THE WHOLE SORRY, EXPLOITATIVE ENTERPRISE, WAITING FOR THE KILL, FROM PEOPLE WHO DON'T - OFTEN TROUGH NO FAULT OF THEIR OWN - SAVE THEIR OWN CIRCUMSTANCE, KNOW BETTER. AND YOU KNOW THEY DON'T. YOU UTTER SELFISH TWAT. MAKE YOUR GUESTS FEEL SHIT, WHY DON'T YOU? BECAUSE YOU'RE SO MUCH WHITER THAN WHITE.... NICE SUIT YOU WEAR EVERY DAY. INCIDENTALLY, WHEN DID YOUR PROGRAMME LAST HAVE A BLACK ' GUEST' ( SORRY, 'MANIPULATED AND UNASSUMING, TRUSTING BUT ULTIMATELY FOOLISH IDIOT') ? EVEN OFCOM CALLED THIS SHOWER OF SHIT 'THE EQUIVALENT OT BEAR-BAITING' AFTER SOME GOBSHITE ATTACKED ANOTHER GOBSHITE ON YOUR PROGRAME. HAVE YOU REALLY NO FUCKING SHAME? YOUR NUMBER'S UP, KYLE.
But don't worry viewers, Graham is around to help backstage. Jeremy might take a while to deal with first, though, once I've beaten the crap out of him. Again and again and again. (rpt until necessary) I will. And that's a promise. He does have issues of his own. But by all means call him now if you have family or relationship issues you need resolving in front of a bunch of utter, utter, fucking gormless nobodies in a studio and a TV audience of about one million utter, utter gormless nobodies.. Or you could just go out and get drunk. I would. And that's a promise, too. There's a good BOGOF deal on at Tesco for cheap plonk - and that's exactly what Jeremy Kyle is. Text the word 'TALK' with your name to 63334 or call him now - it's 0845, it's 30 50 60 and remind him who he is. I just did. And it was the best £1 I've ever spent.
Here's a couple of qoutes from his ITV website obituary - sorry, profile...
"People ask me how I cope with some of the agonising things I hear," he said. "The truth is that of course some things haunt you – but I have to switch off to survive..."
You're not alone there, Jeremy. Switching off is a very good idea. And next,
"What this show does is to give you perspective on your own life. I often tell myself that I must never complain again about not getting enough kip, or something minor going wrong."
You're not alone there either, Jeremy. Except that when I can't get enough kip and turn on the TV at 4am, whose face to I see? Whose voice do I hear? Yup.
Finally,
"Many of the people I meet face terror and tragedy in their lives – and they keep going. I really admire them." But that's me, Jeremy. YOU are the terror. YOU are the tragedy. And I really admire myself for living close enough to Beachy Head and not throwing myself over the top after watching your furball of TV.
Thank you, Jeremy. Please may I see Graham and the team now?
02.10 That Really Is Fucking Enough! Really! Enough!
Programme about even bigger penises. Dennis the Menace stars. With his Gnasher. And the Bash Street Kids. And Billy Whizz. And Lord Snooty. And Bananaman. And Appleman. And Orange-on-the-end-of-a-baby's-arm Man. Brace yourselves, it's going to be messy. Really fucking messy. And really messy fucking. By Christ this is bad, bad, telly. Don't watch - it's presented by Jeremy Kyle.
02.15 Come Outside Again
(rpt of a rpt of a rpt of a rpt - YOU'VE SEEN THIS SHIT BEFORE, OK???? EVERYONE HAS FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. IT'S ON EVERY GODDAMN FUCKING DAY. )
Auntie Mabel and Pippin have a 'special' adventure in the spotty plane
(May cause offence)
02.30 JESUS FUCKING CHRIST !!
Almost educational fun featuring Auntie Mabel and Pippin, high in a plane.
(Will certainly cause offence)
02.45 Look At Me And Then Get Off My Fucking Stage!
Jeremy Kyle presents this lifestyle reality programme where his socially inadequate children guests are invited to air their differences with their ASBO friends. Don't worry, there's security on hand. And, Christ will you need it watching this ball of arse. Make sure your TV is insured. Shoes and TVs in collision don't agree with each other. If this programme was an animal's poo, it would be cowshit. Common as muck and not something you with to come across. It's shit. Go back to sleep, you sad fuck of a viewer. I should know. I'm one of the people who has to watch this for my incisive reviews. Why do you think I'm writing this? You think this is what I WANT to do?
02.46 It's Birthday Time!
Here's to another year of shite.
02.47 Shag of the Century
Knickerless Parsons presents. Everything. Warts and all. And, Good Lord, are there many warts! Fuck! Fuck Me!! No, don't..
02.50 You And Me
You and me - Me and you - Lots and lots for us to do! Lots and lots for us to see. Me and you, you and me! You and me, me and you! Do-dooo! Do-dooo! Do-Doooo! Do-Doooooooooooooooo you want to come to bed with me?
03.00 After Foreplay School
John Smokes, and Peter Perves in the Blue Peter Duncan Sunken Garden as Lesley Judders.
03.10 Multicolured Twat Shop
With Noel Edmonds
04.00 John's Grave And Newsround
Life as reported from the Other Side with special reports from Keith Chegwin. And Maggie Philbin. And Elvis Presley. And Diana Princess Of Wales. And Gabby Roslin. And Kate Thornton, hopefully.
04.05 Tiswas
No it isn't - and it wasn't. Funny, that is. But Lenny Henry is hilariously reading the news in big, very funny - really funny - really FUCKING FUNNY glassses. And there's a custard pie somewhere in this crud of a cowpat of a mess of a disaster of a waste of my time. I've asked the audience and I'm phoning a friend. He's got a big gun. Watch out, Tarrant. It's 50-50 you'll get to the end of the year. Sally James looks nice though.
05.00 Shaturday Supersore
TV Diarrhoea. Mike Read and chums. That's it. Pain in the arse. But Five Star get called cunts in this one. I'm ringing in myself to make sure.
06.00 Clothesdown
Naked news, travel, weather and entertainment information to take you through the rest of the night ...
Until...
06.01 Rainblow
Geoffrey, George and Zippy are relieved for one night by Rod, Jane and Freddie. Bungle laughs as he watches. And laughs a lot more; his rainbow's climbing high!
06.20. Think of a number
Johnny Balls thinks of number 69 with Janet Ellis.
06.45 Who The Fuck Do You Think you Are?
Brian C*nt finds out the history of why he is a C*nt. Presented by Brian C*nt.
07.00 Trumpton
Windy Miller farts.
07.10 What The Fuck Were You Thinking?
David Icke looks at the works and theories of the world's greatest philosophers. This week - Richard 'punch-me-Judy' Madeley.
07.11 Newsknight / Quest InTime
Around the Round Table this week are Osama Bin-Laden, George W. Bush, Auntie Mabel , Pippin, the wizard Merlin and Doctor Who. K9 presents.
07.30 Spot The Poop!
Can you spot the poop?
07.31 Pages from Ceefux
(Adult content only)
07.40 Six O'Clock Nudes
Fiona Bruce, Huw Edwards and Sophie Raworth present their articles - and testicles - in this hilarious report on the state of the nation's affairs.
(May contain strobe lighting and offensive language)
Followed by...
07.41 The Local Nudes - South East Today
Fat Geoff takes off his suit and delivers another pile of utter shite. This programme may cause offence to some viewers.
Fuck it, if Geoff takes his suit off, there's not one single living soul whose heart might not think of stopping at the sight of his portly torso, wobbling as he tells of the latest nonentity of fatuous crap happening in Maidstone. Please don't watch this. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T WATCH THIS. THINK OF THE HARM TO THE ENVIRONMENT! TURN OFF THE TV AND GO AND FUCK YOUR WIFE! OR YOUR HUSBAND! OR YOUR PARTNER - OF EITHER SEX - IT DOESN'T MATTER, OR A CAT, FOX, SQUIRREL, PEACOCK, HAMSTER OR EVEN A CUCKOO. DO IT NOW. YOUR SANITY DEPENDS ON IT. LEAVE FAT GEOFF OUT OF YOUR LIFE.
With Polly Evans co-presenting. Also naked.
07.45 SCHEISS!!!!! Ve're iz Goin' Down, Baby!
On the 60th anniversary of the event, the ever popular Radio 1 DJ Tim Westwood presents a lighthearted look at the young Welsh boy who perished in the Hindenburg disaster. With music by Aled Zeppelin, singing a particularly poignant recital of Stairweiner Zu Heavenenenen.
07.46 Robbing Hoodie
Dressed in a suit of Lincoln Green, I get out and beat the crap out of the teenage fuck who stole my mobile two weeks ago while my daughter screamed after banging her leg at the playground. I'll rip the clothes of this carbuncle on the backside of humanity, fold them up, put them into a bag, and burn them. That's it, you scummy bastard. And don't think I don't know what you look like. I don't, but don't think I don't. Please. Because I'm scared of you.
07.59 Crash & Burn, Hamster Cock!
Jeremy Clarkson dies in a spectacular 800mph collision with the Space Shuttle Endeavour, proving he was indeed the biggest dick to drive.
08.15 Strange Hill
More classroom highjinks as Zammo kills Mr bronson with his lawn mower. Pogo Patterson tries to intervene but Bullet Baxter has other ideas as Roland's Browning himself.
08.32 Emmerdale Fart
Jack Sugden, his family and all the sheep in Yorkshire - the whole fucking lot of them - come close to death as the landlord of the Woolpack, Amos Brierly, lets another of his trouser trumps out into the glorious open of the Yorkshire countryside.
(If you are affected by any of the flatulant issues depicted in today's programme go fuck yourself you stupid idiot. Or call GMTV. Or better still, Jeremy Kyle. Text the word 'TALK' and your name to 63334 or call him now. It's 0901 30 50 60)
08.59 The Sky at Night
Well it's daytime now so why on earth anyone should care is a mystery. Check your watch you stupid fucking couch potato. Anyway, The-Soon-To-Be-Dead-Sir-Patrick-Moore explains what heaven is like.
(Terrestrial viewers only)
09.00 Dickhead and Judy
New series. Richard 'Punch-Me-Judy' Madeley and Judy Finnegan talk utter crap with Denise Robinson who offers her usual good advice. Today they talk about how easy it can be to walk out of a supermarket with a trolley full of vodka. Is it because I is wack? We find out today ! You say - we don't pay!
(May contain severe episodes of extreme carnage. And Judy Finnegan.)
10.15 Camberwell Green
Pew, Pew, Bariey McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub find the ethical way to create the largest spliff ever created with Camberwell Green Rizzlas. Then they have to put out the ensuing fire after the village is destroyed. Brian C*nt narrates.
10.25 Person of the Day
It's you, Doreen!
10.26 Can You Tell What It Is Yet?
Get ready to laugh youself silly! Rolf Harris is stripped naked in the Putney Veterinary Centre, blindfolded, and tied to the operating table. Then Kate Humble dons her surgical gloves, excites Rolf's 'Jake The Peg' , and forces him to make happy sex with an array of sick animals. But - heh, heh, heh - can Rolf tell what they are yet? If he can, he gets to keep his paintbrushes on the condition that he creates a portrait of each creature - and will then present them - and his arse - to Her Royal Highness The Queen. If he can't identify the animals with whom he's been making happy sex, a shock of 1,000 volts will be applied via syringe up his bum. This week - Rodents!
(Please note no animals were harmed in the filming of this programme. Just Rolf Harris.)
(And if you are affected by any of the events or acts featured, you know what to do. Call Jeremy Kyle now - text "TALK" and your name - to 63334 or call him now. It's 01901. It's 30 50 60.)
10.56 Thunderturds Are Go!
Thunderturd number two has a very messy accident and crashes into Tracy Island. And she's none too happy about it.
11.26 Loo Swimmin'
The irritating gobby ITV harridans are forcibly pushed into an enormous toilet and have one minute to do the breaststroke to the side before they are flushed away. For good. Fucking good to the intellectual potential of our country, that is - a proportion of whom, larger than you'd think, actually PUT TIME ASIDE TO WATCH THIS FAECAL MESS. Stuart Hall laughs uncontrollably as the madcap fun ensues. With special guest Will Young.
11.31 Get Your Tits Out!
Cheeky Bill Oddie encouages some lovely young birds into his garden and makes them happy by feeding them his seed.
(May contain nuts)
12.00 Vorderman's Vital Constipation Conundrum
Carol sits on her stool after working it out with a pencil.
12.10 Get Off My Stage!
Jeremy Kyle is killed.
(Have you been affected by the slaughter of Jeremy Kyle? No? Good. But if you have, call Denise Robertson on This Morning. Or better still perhaps - think of your own shite of a similar show and do us all a favour and kill yourself now. It will save me the bother.)
12.11 Nagpuss
The pink, saggy old cloth cat is away on holiday to Chigley this week, while the Mice on the Mouse Organ are asleep. Professor Yaffle is dead. So Madeleine the Rag Doll presents this programme and beats Gabriel the Toad with a brick. And then she attacks, maims and eventually kills Emily for bringing so much fucking shite into the shop all the time. A bit loose at the seams, maybe.
12.30 Game For A Bath
Madcap fun as Jeremy Beadle, in disguise, washes some partridges - unaware they're being filmed on hidden camera!
Sarah Kennedy and Matthew Kelly don't do anything in this special edition, nor does Henry Kelly. But Rustie Lee just keeps laughing!
13.00 Anti-Cunt
The ever orange David Dickinson (whom I like) finds some old tat at a car boot sale. I hate this. People encouraged to embarrass themselves by seeking out - in coloured T-shirts - the most stupid items onsale on a Sunday morning . And then - get this - they have to turn up at auction to see the products they bought, sold on. At YOUR EXPENSE, VIEWER. So who's the cunt? Me. For watching this congealed mess of utter twatness. I should know better. it's a shame of a production. The website - www.bbc.co.uk/lifestyle , is it? Why bother typing that wretched series of letters into your computer? Why is there not one devoted to cunts? www.bbc.co.uk/cunt ? Or Anti-Cunt? Just 'Lifestyle'. Hmmmmmm.. Well, trust me because I know, I really genuinely know what a pile of poop it is working for a BBC webshite. Dispirited people asked - if not forced - to write trite for very little money. Again and again and again and again. So now you know, who's the cunt? IT'S YOU FOR WATCHING, LISTENING TO AND READING THIS UTTER HEAP OF SHITE WHICH YOU PAID FOR WITH YOUR TV LICENCE. I'm pro-cunt. But this exposes the reason to be anti. Bring back the old days of British TV. Antique Hunt indeed.
13.30 Bod
PC Plod forces his way into Aunt Flo's apartment and exposes Farmer Barleymow's bod. Frank the Postman giggles at Alberto Frog's amazing animal
(Banned)
13.40 Twat's Life
Jeremy Kyle biopic. The talking vegetables invited onto his show remember the legend of daytime TV.And then forget him instantly, as should we all. Rest in piss, Kyle.
13.41 Dickweed Nobface Superfuck
Seamus the cow mounts a pig in Farmer Jake's field. Hilarity ensuses as Father Christmas delivers presents and the tooth fairy finds a pubic hair whilst flossing her woo-woo.. Lenny Kravitz sings songs about plop and Suede perform their latest single about bisexual intercourse. Philip Schofield laughs. Fearne Cotton and Fern Britten get confused about which of them is which! (Clue: Fern you're the fat one married to the greying arse of a chef, and Fearne, you're the hopelessly talentless one who uses the words 'surreal' and 'amazing' too frequently. I like Reggie on your Radio 1 programme though. But not you.) . Both Sir Bob Geldof and Sir Richard Branson ride camels naked and joust over who has the rights to most self righteous person in the world today. It's an Anglo-Irish war viewers, and Martin McGuiness is on hand with the results. Eric the Donkey does his puppet show as Jim Davidson sings songs in a desperate attempt to do anything. Grass grows and time passes. Christ returns (rpt) and Simon Cowell cooks spaghetti. And has a cup of tea with Fish from Marillion. The universe impacts and everone dies. Except for Timmy Mallet. Life sucks, doesn't it?
13.42 GMTV
Now, where in the name of The Father, The Son and the Holy Fucking Ghost do we begin with this, viewers? Well, let's get the good stuff out of the way first. Penny Smith and John Stapleton do a fine job on the News Hour, even though their smiles on the opening tiltles look as forced as the difficult shit I delivered to my toilet bowl during their ad-break this morning. They work well together and the news is presented - unlike the BBC's 1 O'clock and Six - as the stuff its audience wants to know about. Don't get me started on Bill Turnbull and Sian Williams on the BBC Breakfast programme, by the way. Oh fuck; just writing their names is enough to turn my cheeks a foul shade of crimson - and I'm not talking about the cheeks on my face. Anyway. The GMTV NewsHour does what it needs to do, nothing less and nothing more. No pretence that it's the most important news programme on the air (are you reading this, Newsnigh producers? ) so no quarrel with that... but then - Oh Mary, Loving Mother of the Living Lord Jesus, we get Fiona Phillips and Andrew Castle presenting the rest of the morning's crap. And Lorraine Kelly afterwards. Fucking hell. I need to do another difficult shit. Which is what viewing this pile of congealed detrium amounts to. Come back Eamonn Holmes, diffucult shit as you were to watch on this colourful expedition into television arsefulness, all is forgiven.
Sorry. I haven't even started but I have to take a breather here. And take another dump while I'm at it. It will smell of Richard Arnold. Though it's my guess that nothing quite smells of Richard Arnold. Except Richarld Arnold. In days to come, there will be rhyming slang which incorporates the words 'Richard Arnold' and the notion of 'turd' but that's for the future and I'll leave that to our children to invent. And Richard Arnold, I've not finished with you. Not by a long fucking shot (which incidentally is what you need and the nation deserves ). I'm dealing with you properyl in a minute, after I shit.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah............... Better now. I flushed Andrea and Claire (my sizeable shits I named after the two GMTV weather 'presenters' - not 'forecasters', note) down the loo. They, like the programe, will stain my toilet. Enough said. Except that Andrea leaves a bigger mess as she is involved with Loose Women. I have dealt with this already but I shall return to it again; make no mistake about that. And you should be quaking in your boots, ladies - I am not holding back. There are a lot more weather 'presenters' I am going to get my teeth into.
Anyway, let's get serious. Never in the history of television - or indeed in the senses of sound and of vision - and furthermore human understanding, has there been something as abhorrent as Fiona Phillips. This woman silently screams at anyone she interviews - thought she sounds of stable mind - throwing her head forward, jutting it at angles which no sane person would contemplate. No sane person does that , Fiona. No-one makes themselves look as fartingly foolish as you. NO-ONE. Not even Noel Edmonds.. She has a problem. The problem is that she has a problem. Continously leaning forward so frequently, aggressively, unnecessarily and stupidly means that any genuine attempt to engage with her guests - be they politicians, Hollywood superstars (and I'm about to deal with these wastes of my space) or politicians falls flat on its arse. She has made my shit turn black and my TV start to burn at its sides - and I've only had it for six months - not funny; I'm going to sue. You make me more angry than anyone on British TV. But it's not because of your incompetence. And it's not because of the utter drivel which comes out of your cakehole. It's because people like you. The people who like you are cretins. And actually they don't like you - the have simply nothing better to do in the morning than watch your bottom-of-the-ladder of a TV presentation. Rent a presenter? I'd rather rent my arse - and I'm looking for viewers. Fiona Philips, you are welcome to inspect it at any time. Kiss it while you're at it. It's there to be vacuously interviewed. You know what that means - you do it every morning.
Which brings me neatly to Andrew Castle.
(Rpt as above you fuckhole. Fifteen love? I wouldn't give you one.)
Lorraine Kelly - I shan't mean to Lorrraine on your parade. However, Like Judy 'punch-me-Richard' Finnegan, you were good in your day. But your bubbly nature is really starting to grate. You're not great - you're shite. Your programe is utter, utter, utter shite. Take your shoe display, your dreadful wardrobe, your hapless line-up of cuntish nonentities and piss off right now. NOW. Lorraine. I mean it. Piss off. Fuck off, Even if it's just out of respect for Jesus, the son of God - who must be crying at the amount of time that people watching your programme could have been doing something creative and could, by chance, have shaped the way our nation is looking. Right now it's looking utter crap. And don't think you have nothing to do with it. You have a heavy weight on your shoulders, Kelly. It's the weight of two million despondant souls wishing the fuck they'd never seen your wretched image in their living-rooms. Humans have better things to do than watch your trollop-basket of poop. JUST GO AWAY. AND WHEREVER YOU END UP, ERECT A TENT AND FUCKING STAY IN IT, YOU MARKLESS BINT.
But now here's the big one. A real fucking big one. A huge, circumnavigational journey around the globe to find the worl's biggest twat. And yes, you've guessed it viewers, it's not Jeremy Kyle. A dollop of slime on the creation of the universe he may have been. But he is not the champion of total cuntness. Not by a long chalk. For where Kyle I think genuinely tried to help people, despite his look of a thankless bloodthirsty wolf, this man has not even that recognition. He doesn't even know he is a fuckwit twat of the highest order. He hasn't a fucking clue. About anything. It's 7.53am, viewers, and I'm offering you a challenge. There is a choice. Choose. Please. You have the chance to live. Or watch Richard Arnold's TV preview slot. If you choose to live, you will live. If you choose to watch Richard Arnold's TV preview slot at 7.53am you won't. Not because I would take your life (though I would galdly if I ever met you and found you watching it) - it's not that level of Russian roulette - but because you should in every manner of decency do it yourself. Because the world is better off without you if you have any time to spare for this bothersome, worthless shite of a waste of DNA.
I think that's just about done it for GMTV. Be strong, viewers. There are counselling sessions to help you if you enjoy this heap of a carcrash of television. It's 01901 30 50 60. Oh shit, that's Jeremy Kyle's number and of course he's dead. Ooops. Well, you'll find help elsewhere. Call Doctor Hilary on GMTV. SHIT - WHAT I THINKING? THE PROGRAMME REEKS OF PUTRESCENT SCUM - DON'T CALL HIM. CALL ANYONE - YOUR SISTER, YOUR MUM, YOUR DAD, YOUR NEIGHBOUR, YOUR GREAT AUNT HATTIE, YOUR GOLDFISH, RICHARD ARNOLD (SHIT AGAIN - HE IS THE ESSENCE OF EVIL, DON'T PHONE HIM) JUST TALK TO THE TRAMP AT THE END OF YOUR STREET; YOU'LL GET MORE SENSE AND FIND IT MUCH MORE REWARDING THAT WATCHING THIS DISPLAY OF PLOP. GOD HELP YOU. I HOPE HE WILL. IF HE'S THERE YOU'LL FIND A WAY TO HIM. MAKE THAT JOURNEY. THERE IS NO DEVIL. BUT THERE IS EVIL. IT JUST HAPPENS TO BE SPELT ' GMTV' . BE WARNED.
But I haven't dealt with the weather 'presenters' yet.
13.41 The State Funeral of Saint Sir Lord King Jeremy Kyle
Talking vegetables who were his guests on his programme remember the life of this great statesman. Great statesman in that he showed us the true state of the nation. Tony Blackburn and Keith Chegwin ease us through this terrible time and narrate as the cortege wends its way from Manchester - where his programmes were filmed so frequently - to Plymoutth, Inverness, then Liverpool, Ipswich, Dover, Carlisle, Twatton, Cunthorpe, Shittyville and Chavborough. His limp and flailing carcass will then be kicked into a ditch next to a filthy, stinking, brown and muddy river and left there for ever as will the memory of one of the biggest arseholes ever to have disgraced our screens. This will be in memory of the way he kicked the shite of the sorry array of walking dross he had on his show. Maybe someone would kick him into the river so he can float away from my memory. I might even make the journey myself, but - look at me - (oh you can't, you're dead) I wouldn't waste the money. Viewers are asked by me not to send flowers but instead to find a large brick and hurl it at the hearse as it makes its dreary way past you.
I need another crap. And this one has your name on it, Kyle. I'll be right back after the break;
don't go away.
13.42 Fingerjobs
Wank along with David Bellamy and Terry Wogan!
13.52 The Why Factor
Why the fuck does Simon Cowell command such a presence on our cuntry's music scene? I'll tell you why - it's because twats like you watch this arse of a format. I have a friend / fiend who is a camera person for it. I would rather he took his clothes off, shoved an onion up his backside and sat on it for a week until that person's eyes start to bleed. I'd give that person twice the amount they earn to STAY AWAY AND NOT MAKE MY LIFE A MISERY BY FILMING THS MUDDY SMELLY MESS OF WANK. What a fucking jalopy of a programme - and yet you allow yourselves to see this grey dog's turd of a lump of shit. And that Sharon Osbourne's no better either. And Louis Walsh ? I rather fancy you. But Dannii Minogue, you have no chance. So put me out of your mind and get on with making yourself look like an utter fucking idiot. Because you're very good at it. If this programme is about seeking out the best talent in this country, I and thousands of right-minded people who have better things to do with the small amount of autumns left to us would turn up at the auditions, pull out the AK-47, pull the trigger and destroy the idea of 'talent' by shifting the weed of this great nation's lumpenproliteriat who - by some unbelievable conviction in themselves, or by having been told by ther sorry examples of pushy parents - actually trust their lies. They are lies. That's the only thing you get right, Cowell, but then I could do that and make a better job of it. I wouldn't insult them like you. I'd just tell them to fuck off. The fact that you don't means I'd make sure there's one more round in my gun to turn it on you and blast your brains all over the clueless cunts who think you are of any importance. You need to die. I need you to die. YOU WILL DIE.
-
(Hosted by Steve Brookstein. Kate Thornton has sadly been killed with an anonymous assasin holding an AK-47. Be warned. I know the killer.)
14.52 Tickle My Trumphole!
You know what's coming - and so does Richard Arnold! Yes, the Grand Old Duke Of Pork has three blind mice run up his cock, the cock strikes one but then other two pleasure him by charging up his anus. Little does he know that these mice have miniature explosives attached to their tiny torsos. But he's about to have the thrill of his life - and mine if the little rodents finish him off. Which I hope to fuck they will. And they will. Thank the Lord for this small mercy. No, make it a large one. More than he could do for me, but it's what he would have wanted.
15.00 Star Was
With Mark Hamill
15.01 275 and 285 - It's Dickwad Nobface Faecal Splatterfest !
Tony Blackburn and Peter Powell each collect a lump of Arnold's poo and throw them at each other. Welcome to the brand new sound of Radio 1. It's shit on the air. Hot air, the lot of it.
Woof woof!
15.44 Witchhunt Twatsnot Megadunk (New series)
Richard Bacon continues his journey around the UK in his golf buggy trying to find the most evil witches alive. Once one is found, he carries on the fine English tradition of subjecting them to the torture they deserve on our behalf. If they sink, they are certainly a witch - and they die. If they float they are also definitely a witch and put instantly to death. Unlike the horror of the olden days though, where the witch is lowered screaming into a pond, in this inventive new format they are plunged from 60,000 feet into a small bucket of shit. Today Richard catches up with Vanessa Feltz. Bye bye Vanessa. Next week - Fiona Phillips.
(Narrated by Peter Sallis)
16.00 To Buy Or Not To Buy
Now this is a tricky one, viewers, and here's why. Despite myself I actually enjoyed watching this for a while. Not because of its content specifcally but because I rub my hands at the prospect of viewing the hapless twats who volunteer themselves to be exposed to one of BBC One's poorest excuses of commissioning. Are we really to believe that the fat bald one and the camp skinny one actually DO go round Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Maidenhead, Stratford or wherever the fuck they are, and interview these estate agents on spec? I don't think so. IT'S ALL A SHAM. DON'T EXCITE YOURSELF WITH THIS. I HAVE LEARNED FROM MY MISTAKE. AND IF YOU DON'T OR HAVEN'T, THEN YOU'RE AS SORRY AS THE POOR EXAMPLES OF OUR GREAT NATION'S PEOPLE OF WHOM THIS DISGUSTING AND HUMILIATING, REVOLTING, NAUSEOUS, REPULSIVE, ODIOUS, ABHORRENT AND REPUGNANT PROGRAMME TAKE ADVANTAGE. AND THEY ARE NOT REALLY LISTENING IN TO CONVERSATIONS ON THOSE HEADPHONES. EVEN THE BBC - IN ALL IT'S DELAPIDATED FORM OF A SO-CALLED 'CORPORATION' - WOULD NOT ALLOW PRESENTERS, HOWEVER MUCH OF A LUMP OF RUSTY DOG POO THEY MAY BE, TO LISTEN IN ON THE HAPLESS TWATS WITH THAT SORRY LEVEL OF EQUIPMENT. IT'S SO FUCKING OBVIOUS YOU GORMLESS BUNCH OF FUC...........
TO BUY OR NOT TO BUY?
BUY-BUY.
Sorry I can't be bothered any more. Just switch over to BBC 2.
Christ, what have I just said?!! It's Schools' programmes on BBC 2! I haven't even started with them!!. Schools' programmes. I do know a bit about these programmes and the duckpond milldew of utter twunkness they can be, as I helped make some of them many years ago . Give me some time. I'm coming back to them later. After I've dealt with weather 'forecasters'. And weather 'presenters'. Showers, the majority of them, and no sunny spells. Or brightness.
All that's to come!
Meanwhile, it's........
16.30 Mallet's Mallet"It's Whack-A-Gay, No school today, Here's what you got to do...! Forget the post, put down the toast We're waiting here for you! "
Yes! That's how the theme tune runs!In this hilarious word association game Timmy Mallet roams the streets, lethally hitting homosexual people with a sledgehammer if they can't think of a word connected with the previous interviewee's suggestion. (Lesbians and Gay Men are treated equally - there's no thought of mis-inclusion here, viewers - everyone has a chance to live). The rules are simple: You mustn't pause, you mustn't hesitate or else you get a bang on the head like this! (Cue silly BBC sound effect) Or like this!! (Cue same silly BBC sound effect.) The one with the most bruises loses!. Look at each other and go Bleugh! Look at everyone at home and go Bleugh! Everyone at home look at them and go Bleugh! ( Hint: It's pronounced BLAIR. )
So let's try it out now!
And let's say we start with the word.... 'Cook'? Hmmm... Your answer could be 'Pan'! Correct! The words 'cook' and 'pan' are indeed related, and you will therefore get to live and not have your head smashed to smithereens viciously by this psycopathically evil man who was once so rude to me on the telephone. Now then. Let's find another sucker of a twat down the road.... Hello, Madam! ' Pan', you say? 'Hmmm... Let me think. How about 'Wok?!' Correct! You too get to live and enjoy the short amount of summers allowed to you by the omniscient God who watches over us day and night, yet who, lest we forget, decrees unto us the ability to create wars resulting in the total devestating destruction of life and livelihood. ( He, in the good book I am told - which He professes to have as his CV by his fans - is responsible for Jeremy Kyle, a hatred of people who happen to love others of the same sex - proper, genuine LOVE - and the ability of people to whack each other over the head with a sledgehammer). And Timmy Mallet. But don't worry about that for now, viewers, not for that at the moment do we have the time to ponder the theory of creation by an omnipient dickweed master of the Universe! Let's meet the next contestant.... ' Wok'? Hmmm... 'Ive got a connection! 'Bus Station!' Noooooo.., my sad and camp and sorry friend. SPLAT!!. Your head's contents will run dribbling around town because you were literally too brain dead to come up with a more sensible answer. Fucking fool.
Mallet's on his way to you. So is God. So be warned. It's Whack a-Gay! We're wide awake!! You'd better be, Gays, because let's rermind ourselves of the last fucking noise which will pass through your mind, should this excuse for humanity make his colourful way to you, with his fucking stupid glasses, those fuck-off comedy shirts and that wretched, annoying heap of birdlife - a cockatiel named 'Magic' for Christ's sake - on his shoulder, shitting down his back like Timmy 'I wouldn't mind bludgeoning you to death one day' Mallet, as well as God shits on my memory of childhood... It's a crappy BBC sound effect. That's right - you've got it -
it's Eek Eek Eek Bonk, Ding!!!
16.40 Universally Challenged
It's disappointing isn't it viewers, when those under-represented sections of our society, under its proud and important flag, the symbollocks standard for all that should be great and good in the world, are misrepresented and let down by the very people elected to serve in their best interests. That's why Jeremy Paxman has laid down the gauntlet and is presenting this special edition of the taxing general knowlege quiz!
Students with Downs' Syndrome are laid bare to his ruthless, savage, barbarous, cruel, sinful, depraved, malicious, spiteful, rancorous, venomous, and evil manner of questioning. He will, if necessary, ask the same question 117 times if he needs to, to make sure he gets the fucking answer he wants from his intelligent and beautiful contestants .And they are . Paxman doesn't need it, he just fucking wants it. 'COME ON', he will scream at the unknowing and enfeeble contestants. They will cower. As the staff at the BBC often do in the face of similar questioning about whether they wish to continue serving the terms of their contract in that shameful regime. Like them, they will feel fear. And they won't understand when they get home whether they were on the first or second level of the on-screen stage. Been there. Time's running out. But, oh my! Don't those zoom-ins, "CLARKSON, ST. MARY'S', really make you scared? They do me.
OK, this isn't a real programme. But everyone on it would be a winner except for its producers
and anyone apart from the contestants associated with it - because in fact this really is not too far away as a concept. Why not exploit the people who need protecting, loving and who need a sholuder to cry on rather than a ridiculous format where those same people who need help and trust simply fall under the same spell of fame, of the lure of exposure to a world and a media which simply doesn't care save for the skin on their backs? Either by their own disenfranchised inabilty to make a choice or by the force of their pushy, self-loving parents? Trust me, a so-called 'disabled' version of a programme like this really is just around the corner and it may have nothing to do with the BBC or ITV but it's just a matter of time. Exploit the exploitable - that's the trick. And the trick will work, because people like you may want to watch it. Think. It's your farter for ten. And we're all universally challenged if anything like this gets made. Don't let it happen.
15.10 Adverts
Barry Scott spends another shiny penny in his new clean toilet - clean thanks to the power of CLIT BANG! I'll be banging a clit tonight, viewers, and there - BANG! The dirt is gone!
15.11 Shit For Sale
Oh in the name of your god, stop watching auction programmes. Just shovel your fetid crap into your garden and leave it there. Birds will appreciate the chance to place their guano on your awful furniture. You're doing them a favour. And that reminds me, I need to do another crap. And while I strain to excrete the smelly brown matter descending its troublesome way into the toilet, I shall think of all the presenters of this scatological disgrace who waste the world's time and resources by showing people of sound mind and greater judgement the hole of shit where the whole of my shit drops.
Turn your television off and throw it in the garden.
(May rpt on you)
15.30 I'm Being Sick!
Jeremy Vine is sick.
15.31 Moira Stuart's Ex-Factor
Moira Stuart - one of the best ever newscasters to grace our screens, explains exactly why she 'left the BBC to pursue other projects'. I think you know what I'm going to say, don't you viewers. So I shan't say it. Except that any corporation who treats its staff - long serving, hard-working and talented individuals who care passionately about their role, who are not driven solely by the ambitions of meeting its (in my opinion) misguided targets is best shot of those people as they are the ones who can forge a career elsewhere based on the tradition of realising their standards are worth bearing. Moira, the BBC is worse off without you. And me.
20.00 Casualty
It's car-crash telly, viewers.
21.00 I'm Going To Blow My Nose On Your Face
Natasha Kaplinski rubs her snotty tissues all over Dermot Murghananananan. And then Bill Turnbull. And then Huw Edwards. And then Fat Geoff from South East Today. And then, in the finale, Kate Silverton gets a wipe including Kaplinski's messy shit-stained issue with the help of Michael Buerk. And Martyn Lewis.
21.30 The National Lottery - Your Number's Up!
Dale Winton hosts this amazing drivel while Alan Dedicote - The Voice Of The Balls - talks bollocks. And is subsequently decapitated. The bonus ball is number two. I need say no more.
21.45 Pillbox
Across the glorious coastal countryside of southern England, there are dotted a collection of historical curios called Pillboxes. These were designed and erected to help defend our nation from invasion. Well, as our army rests itself in Iraq and Afghanistan, we'd better hope we're not invaded again. However in the meantime these Pillboxes have another purpose, aside from being used as a urinal by the selfish wastrels who couldn't work out whether they needed a piss before they set out on a lovely walk. Now the gun holes in these small buildings will be used for Challenge Aneka! Her task is to build a house for impoverished, undernourished, brittle and soulless, destitute offspring of single mothers on the route from the sea to the carpark near an educational visitors' centre, whilst all the time coming under heavy fire from the training Territorial Army, using these Pillboxes in the spirit in which they stand - as shooting posts to rid England of its unnecessary and unwelcome visitors. Get what I mean, Aneka Rice? you soon will. Despite the loss of opportunity this could mean to our defenseless kiddies I hope you fail. They'll be better off if they reach adulthood without having seen your wobbly arse and oversized teeth running around on telly.
22.10 Supernanny
A goat learns the art of flying dressed in a red cloak and blue silken costume but has trouble bringing up her unruly kids. Jo Frost is on hand to help out, spitting her parental advice despite not having any children herself. The blind leading the blind here, I suspect. Nevertheless, she sucks seeds and grows a sunflower between her sizeable breasts.
Leading us nicely into...
22.30 Supermarket Sheep
A sheep goes shopping in a supermarket FOR SOME WOOL.. They're rather stupid like that.
22.50 Why Don't You?
'Why Don't you just switch off your television set and go out and do something less boring instead?' Whoever wrote this theme tune needs to meet the Queen, kneel in front of her and accept the knighthood he so richly deserves. This should be our National Anthem instead of the turgid drone we currently have - Come on UK! Make a difference, why don't you?
23.00 Animals Do The Clumsiest Things!
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. A rabbit drops his balls whilst juggling, a fox gets caught red handed by the Shrew Police as he tries to rob a riverbank, a sloth falls out of her tree and can't stop laughing, a stingray harpoons Steve Irvine by mistake causing his untimely death, Emu accidentally pushes Rod Hull off a roof causing his untimely death, a bear eats Ann Widdecome causing her long overdue death, and the whole of Norfolk is set ablaze by Timmy Mallet's cockatiel who - as if by Magic - drops its cigarette into a reedbed. A worm drills through the Iran-Iraq oil pipeline, the Clintons' Presidential Cat, Socks, unintentionally returns from the dead, and a crow gets stoned. An Urang-Utan becomes the prime minister of France without being elected, a baboon shits itself on an aeroplane and a mouse called Malcolm Golightly causes a car crash. A cuckoo causes international outrage by smuggling illegal immigrants from Latvia to Brazil, a donkey crashes the Space Shuttle into Canary Wharf, a lizard gets into a pickle with a speedboat, a Jack Russell loses at bingo, a gerbil overcooks some cabbage, Bernard the Shirehorse gets a note wrong at a piano recital ceasing its transmission on Radio 3, a cow called Arsenal loses his game of table football and causes the collapse of the betting industry. The moon is swallowed by a swallow, a toad falls off a shelf, a snail gets done for speeding and farts uncontrollably, a monkey invents time travel by mistake and accidentally types the complete works of Shakespeare into his laptop. Whoops! The fun increases as a rat solves a murder, a budgerigar cooks a lemon in duckfat instead of olive oil, Tracy Emin's Bed is cut to shreds by an angry moose and the world is held to ransom by a cat called Neddy. A watervole burns down a factory, a meerkat leaves the iron on and a duck can't open the door because its beak is firmly lodged up Cyril the Goat's arse. The universe ceases to exist thanks to its thermonuclear destruction and its consequent impolsion as Figgly the pig mistakes the red button for the blue one.
And a guinea-pig spills his tea!!
Presented by Rolf Harris.
23.30 Ugly Botty
The title of this series rather gives the concept away, doesn't it, viewers?
(Due to the current controversy surrounding television phone votes, we are unable to provide our normal provision of viewer choice of winner. But please find enclosed in this week's CBoobies Magazine your free Scratch'n'Sniff rubbing card which which you can join in with the arse displaying lack of action! Number one is Tony Hart, Number two (tee hee !) is the late Jeremy Kyle, number three is Esther Rantzen, number four is John Major, number five is Tintin, number six is Dave Lee Travis, number seven is Topol, number eight is Barney, that fucking wretcthed Purple Dinosaur, number nine is Richard 'punch-me-Judy' Madeley and number ten is Judy 'remember-to-accidentally-steal-some-vodka-for-me-Richard' Finnegan!
Normal service will resume next week when the idiots who have cocked up your enjoyment of the interactive element of this series have been arrested, tried for treason and, despite their ridiculous workload, have been shot in the head. Who dies first? You Decide! It's Viewercide!!)
00.00 Jeremys At War!
Achtung, Achtung! Wie komme ich am besten zum Bahnhof bitte? Ich haben zu mein haus gefahrt!
Yes, that's right viewers! It's all out war between Jeremys Paxman, Vine, Fisher and Kyle (making a rare post-death appearance from the Dark Side) as they slug it out in Berlin for the title of Britian's champion Jeremy!
Leave Germany and enjoy this wonderful programme at home. The grandscale lightsabre uberfight occurs on the roof of the Brandenburg Gate as the climax of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, 'Ode To Joy', will be playing at impossible volume to deter each of them from success! So who will you place at the top of your list of winners?
My money's on the frog.
Prize presented by John Humphreys.
00.30 Glitterbollocks / Make Your Playdough
Now here's an easy target. Simply pick some of the most vacuuous young turks ever shown as presenters and let them run riot on your screens talking absolute bullshit as the producers try and con you out of the money you may have striven to have earned hard, or the money you have borrowed - in order to have a hope-in-hell's chance of winning. Note that these programmes are shown late at night on ITV 1 and there are no commercial breaks. Why do you think this might be when every call to the show - and there are I have noticed approximately 245 calls per minute at 75p from a BT landline (other networks may charge more)? The simple answer is that you don't need an advert break when you get all your revenue by fleecing your viewers under false pretence. Calls limited to 150 per night per phone number, you say? How generous, knowing that there are people gullible and desperate who would be prepared to pay for the hopeless chance of winning anything. And remember viewers (and if you have to watch this, please remain just that - VIEWERS - not particpants) every call you make to this enterprise is charged at full rate, whether you get through to the programme or not. Face it you have on average a one in 490 chance of getting through - every minute - of your potential success. So save your cash and buy enough milk and bread to feed yourself.
These people on your television are the sort who could feasibly rob your poor and helpless grandmother. You ought to check with her they haven't been round to her care home and tried to squeeze every penny out of her for no reason, for that is what this utter disgrace of programming amounts to. Cowboy programming. They stare at the camera in an effor to bribe any hapless viewer vulnerable enough to think the £1,000 prize - or whatever the amount - is theirs for the taking. THEY KNOW IT ISN'T.
Because of the Ofcom investigation into this sham, the producers are obliged to force these arseholes to constantly repeat (in veiled terms) that the viewers realistically don't actually stand a chance of winning anything.
They only take one call every two or three minutes (except when it's a so-called 'Turbo Round' , when after wasting the almost non-existent chances of anyone winning anything at these ridiculous 'games', raising the hopes of the losers watching, they drop the amount of pize money, having ensured the money in the ITV coffers is therefore sufficient to spoil the party.) "Set yourself a limit" they say, as if this is enough.
This is, in my opinion, the worst and most exploitative sort of television. This and Kyle. And Big Brother. And Strictly Come Prancing, X-Factor. Get people to spend cash on meaningless crap. God knows there's enough of that in almost every shop on the High Street.
Just go and play Bingo, get extremely drunk, buy and smoke some fags and pray you wake up with no memory of your actions. It's far better you do that than waking up actually remembering you saw this on your TV, didn't change channels and phoned up in the ludicrous faith that you'd be able to 'join in '.
DON'T LET ITV ROB YOU. GET A FUCKING LIFE, PEOPLE.
"You gotta be on the right line at the right time", eh?
Well. The right line is the Euston to Manchester Piccadilly line, on my way to meet you bunch of wankers. The right time is after I've tied you up and strapped you to 'the right line' as I travel over you warm and comfy in a Pendolino, completely satisfied that I am a winner, on my way home..
04.00 No More Balamory
(This series has been cancelled after PC Plum and Miss Hooley were found in a compromising position in the Nursery cupboard. We apologise for any distress this may have caused)
So instead...
04.00 Scooby Don't!
Scooby is arrested after feeling Shaggy and on heat, mounts Scrappy Doo. Luckily Thelma can't see without her glasses. Fred and Daphne are strangely missing. Scooby would have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for some meddling kids, I expect. Bloody kids.
04.15 Top Gear !
Richard Hammond tries out the latest speed. And lives again.
04.45 Eating Poo!
Doctor Gillian McKeith is forcefed her own bottomvomit as she is so annoying.
05.00 I'm A Celebrity, Give Me Gonnorhea!
Ant and Dec present the new series of the celebrity reality show! This time, instead of eating Witchetty Grubs and the like, the contestants will be given sexually transmitted dieases. The one who gets most wins! (Contestants TBC but in my ideal, heavenly scenario they would include ANY OF THE TOTAL FUCKERS WHO'VE PUT THEMSELVES FORWARDS FOR THIS TURGID WASTE-DISPOSAL-UNIT OF YOUR TIME it would be Peter Andre. Insania, the lot of it. Tony Blackbum was OK though - more about him later.
BUT THE REST OF THEM. Never mind the bollocks, DIE. I can't STanD SEEING THEM STANDING FOR ANOTHER DAY - ESPECIALLY YOU, ANDRE. ) Feed him insects and make sure they're venomous. I am. JUST DON'T WATCH THIS. HAVEN'T YOU ANY LAST THOUGHT IN YOUR IRRELEVANT LIVES ANYTHING BETTER TO DO? I HAVE - IT'S REMINDING YOU THAT YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER IN YOUR LIVES TO DO.
SO JUST GO AND DO IT!
FOR FUCK'S SAKE GET OUT AND DO SOMETHING. YOU CAN BORROW MY BIKE IF YOU WANT. CYCLE TO THE LAKE DISTRICT, FROM JOHN O'GROATS TO LAND'S END. GO AND SEE FAT GEOFF IN MAIDSTONE FOR ALL I CARE. OR JUST GO FOR A DAY OUT TO CARLISLE, THE SCILLY ISLES, NORWICH OR BELFAST.
OR GLASGOW, DOVER, PETERBOROUGH, SLEAFORD, ST. IVES, WATFORD, TOSSPOT WANKSTREET OR ALBERT SQUARE. , BUT DON'T, BY THE WAY, EVER COME BY MY HOUSE. THAT BIKE - MINE - WILL FIND ITSELF AROUND YOUR UNDERSERVED HEAD, CONTAINED WITHIN IT UNDOUBTEDLY AN UNDERSERVED AND UNDERNOURISHED MIND. AND I SHALL LAUGH. AT GREAT VOLUME AND GREAT LENGTH AND GIRTH AT THAT BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WITH YOUR POTENTIAL IF I FIND YOU HAVE BEEN WATCHING THIS PROGRAMME.EVEN ENJOYING THE PLEASURE OF SPLAYING YOUR ARSECHEEKS AND ALLOWING YOUR POO-HOLE - POSSIBLY FARTING COPIOUSLY DOWN THE BOWL EXPRESSING ITS DISPLEASURE OF THE BILE-RIDDEN EXCREMENT PREVIOUSLY STUCK WITHIN YOUR BOWEL COMES NOWHERE NEAR AS CLOSE AS ENJOYING THE FRESH AIR FLOWING THROUGH YOUR TOILET WINDOW, KOWING YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO WATCH THIS CRUSTY OLD PILE OF WORTHLESS FUCKING SHIT. IF I WAS A COW I COULDN'T LOW AS MUCH AS THIS PROGRAMME MAKES ME FEEL
Witchetty Grubs - I'm sure God apologises. And if there is no deity, then I apologise on his rhetorical behalf. Peter Andre? Jesus Chist!And no - I am implying no similarity. At least for all his faults, Andre exists. But I'd never use your name to swear by, Andre. I'd far rather say 'JESUS CHRIST!'. Imagine if I stepped in a dogshit (which incidentally... no, never mind) and exlclaimed, 'PETER ANDRE!'. What luaghs there would be...? Hmmmmmmmmmm.
I'm going to my local park right now to try it out. I've even bought a dog. And if he doesn't shit, I'll do it myself.
PETER ANDRE ! Wipe the shit off my shoe! Oh you ARE the shit on my shoe. Yes you fucking well are. FUCK OFF.
05.30 WifeSwap
Take mine - I only need 3p. Any offers? She's on EBay. Look under 'Naggy Fussy Hag'. You'll find it. I found her once - in real life, so you've got it easy. Christ, what a mistake that was. And in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ do I know it now?. (OR you can take Peter Andre - you decide) You bet you last penny in your hole-ridden pockets I do know it now. Ok, it's 2p and she's yours. Auction closes in seven seconds.
06.00 Weather Or Not
Now here is a corker. Whether (excuse the pun) it's chirpy Carole Kirkwood, posh ex-girls' school Helen Willetts, the most boring man on British television (yes, viewers, if you've ever felt bored, try watching this man - Rob McKellwee - a living talking statue) one of them will die.
Why does the weather have to be a childrens' story?
OK. We all want to know what the likelihood of inclemency could be tomorrow, becase we've shelled out on expensive clothing to make sure that we are warm and sheltered from the elements. But I am an adult. And you are an adult presenting a supposedly adult programme, telling me what the weather is likely to hold in store.
So why the Jesus Andre do we need to be delivered our weather forecast as though it were some kind of story? Or worse, - a pantomime? Ooooooooh - there might be a touch of frost! The sun could break though!! 'Cloudly spells' ? I'll gladly cast my cloudy spell over any of you 'presenters' - by exposing my hairy arse, farting, and delivering some hot misty fog over your cold front.
And what the fuck are 'spits and spots' of rain? IT'S FUCKING GOING TO RAIN. SO JUST FUCKING SAY SO.
Why the need for colourful language? You might as well say that 'The rain will fall with high dancing steps, in a lively and carefree but affected manner until its eventual, graceful landing on the Beloved English Soil Of Lincolnshire'. Or you could say, 'Attention, people of the United Kingdom. Listen to this announcement issued from the Met Office a short time ago. The raindrops about to hit Gloucestershire will fall with fall in great numberrs. With such strength and energy, and with such moral purpose and active power, compelling strength and convincing operative effect, and of violent compulsive and damp intent, that some of you may get wet. Take care if you're out and about because this destructive force that is water knows no limits. Be strong and together we can beat the beast, the mindless and uncaring energy of nature seems to have an imposing power. But we know better. ARM YOURSELVES. BUY AN UMBRELLA....'
For Andre's sake - IT'S ONLY GOING TO RAIN, YOU TWATS.
And to Sian Lloyd, the weather forecast might stop being such a pitiable state of distress and an unhappy experience to watch, an habitually gloomy and morose delivery to sit through, a wretchedly inadequate and meagre example of professionalism and a contemptible but TOTALLY UNFORTUNATE representation of the state of British Television, if it wasn't personified by and reflected in your FUCKING RIDICULOUS GESTURES OVER YOUR WEATHER MAP. If your hands could be cut off from your arms (which I would gladly do with the scythe I bought today for this exact purpose) they would make very good ballet dancers. Except that no-one would want to come and see your hands dancing because WE'RE ALREADY ANNOYED THAT THEY MOVE ON OUR SCREENS IN THE FIRST PLACE.
PLEASE JUST GO AWAY.
Phew.
So, this proramme is to decide which Weather Presenters are to live or die! You decide - It's Weathercide - yes, it's Whethercide!!
And it's to be presented in a new, imaginative interactive way!
You'll be asked to choose from ten of the most insipid people currently presenting the weather forecasts.
They are - in no particular order......
1. Peter Cockcroft
2. Rob McKelwee
3. Carol Kirkwood
4. Claire off GMTV (PLEASE IF YOU VALUE YOUR SANITY VOTE FOR HER)
5. Andrea off GMTV (PLEASE IF YOU VALUE YOUR SANITY VOTE FOR HER TOO - I'LL PAY YOUR PHONE BILL)
6. That bloke from Sky - Francis Something - used to be on Good Morning Britain with Anne Diamond and Nick Thingy. Nick Owen - that's it.
7. Dishy Weatherman on the BBC whom my wife still quite likes - Phil Hammond
8. Michael Fish (National Institution. Vote for him and your number's up)
9. The irritating shouty one from South East Today - friends with Fat Geoff, I understand
10. Sian Lloyd (PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE VOTE FOR SIAN LLOYD. PLEASE FOR THE MERCY OF GOD (WHO I DOUBT EXISTS GIVEN THIS WOMAN DOES) VOTE NOW.
NOW!!!! 0901 30 50 60.
IT'S FREE! AND SOON WE COULD ALL BE FREE OF THIS AIRHEADED WELSH SLOANE. PLEASE.
(Presented by Andrew Marr. )
07.00 It's For You-Hooooo!
Reprising her popular 1980s role as Beattie, the older 'ology' fixated face of British Telecom, Maureen Lipman throws pottery at the teenage fuck who stole my mobile phone a couple of weeks ago, and who subsequently dies.
"You got an 'Ology'!", she screams, as she lunges each item at this brainfuck of an excuse for the privilege of living. Well try this for size, fuckhead. "You get an Ology and you're a scientist!", rages Lipman. So how about radiology, psychology, but, fuck it, Pottery-ology - the science of removing chinaware from your head.
Grrrr. Maureen, it's good to talk, even better to share, but best of all it's about beating seven sorts of shit out of the pondlife who nicked my phone. You go for it, I'll refund you for the cost to your china. Not mine - he's had enough of my property already.
07.23 Film: The Railway Children
I would like to say that in this film the kids get mown down by the Flying Scotsman. But I can't because in reality this film makes me cry real, manly, big huge tears every time I see it.
You know the scene. After the trauma of being evacuated from London and hearing terrible untruths about her father, Jenny Agutter's character - having spent months watching the train pass her temporary home - as a metaphor of the passing of time, growing up and of the love and joy of friendship and family - is reunited with him . "Daddy! My Daddy!" Christ, if that doesn't get you, you're a cold and heartless, soulless, wretched being. My wife coincidentally looks rather like Jenny Agutter. And my daughter is our most precious thing. Have a child and you'll understand. Everything on this planet is precious. Precious. Fucking precious.
Bernard Cribbins is good, too.
I need a tissue just thinking about that moment at the end of the film. It's sheer poetry on screen.
Oh bugger, I'm filling up ad i catn seer the ketboard probaerly.
Sniff.
(By the way, Jeremy Kyle wasn't that precious. Obvious maybe , but worth pointing out.)
09.00
Nothing happens.
I'm still crying.
12.00 Leave Me Alone
I'm still upset, OK ? It was just so beautiful... Jenny Agut-. Bernard Cribbi-... It was her Dad! ...And he was on the train and it was foggy and they put it all in slow motion and then she runs towards the figure emerging from the train and mist and it's her Dad. Coming home!
Her Dad came home.
Her Dad came home.
"Daddy, My Daddy!" What a beautiful moment. You miss this film at your peril. Go and buy it on DVD.
Sorry, I need a break.
12.05 Trade Test Transmission
A young girl and her spooky clown friend play a very slow game of Noughts & Crosses.
13.04 Geri, Geri! Geri Baby!
The unquestionally untalented Spice Girl talks drivel. Again. And reads sectiions from her new childrens' books. Fucking hell. If you're up this late, watching this and haven't plastered your rectum with ginger spice (very painful by the way - or so I hear) and if you live near to a cliff, do the decent thing. Jump. Enjoy a freefall. A free fall from the ignominy of watching this annoying bint spouting on about her arse of ideas.
(Hint: there are none)
Careerwise, it's my guess she's already done it, viewers. But don't let that put you off. She sacked my friend. . Go fuck yourself.
All is well in Hell for you, Halliwell. And it's waiting.
14.00 The Weakest Link
It's Ann Robinson asking inane questions to a bunch of nobodies. And they get to be insulted by her for not knowing the answers. And they should - because if you don't know any of the answers, you're an idiot.
But the thing the gets me about this programme is this. At the start of the questions, Ann Robinson is instructed (I presume by the producers of yet another adventure into the crappiest elements of broadcasting ) to frame the question she's about to ask.
I'll explain.
"In maths, what is the square root of 36?"
"In literature, who wrote Macbeth?"
"In music, which band sang Penny Lane?"
Etc...
Why, Ann Robinson, do you have to set the context of the question, as if there could be another area which might help the no-brainers on your programme to the all-too-obvious answers? It's not necessary. Why do you need to set out that it's maths, literature or music?
THE QUESTIONS ARE ABOUT MATHS, LITERATURE AND MUSIC.
SO, WHY??
I mean, you could say this.
"In Physics, why does Alan Titchmarsh appear so smug?"
"In Topgraphy, which farmer chased Peter Rabbit from his garden?"
"In the field of thermonuclear weaponry, who directed Reservoir Dogs?"
"In the lifetime of Karl Marx, why do people eat carrots?"
"In the timetables of bus-stops, why do we exist?"
But most importantly,
"In the interests of the duties set out by Lord Reith in 1909 for the purpose of providing a publicly funded and valuable organisation why do we have to put up with this heap of trash?"
Just ask the fucking question. JUST ASK THE FUCKING QUESTION, ROBINSON.
In spelling, how do you spell "Waste of a space of a TV programme?"
I'll tell you how. And we don't need to know the question is about spelling. BECAUSE IT'S FUCKING OBVIOUS.
But the answer is that It's spelt "T-H-E-W-E-A-K-E-ST-L-I-N-K".
I'm voting you off, Robinson. And you don't even get to give me an interview after you're booted away from my screen. Just though, before you leave, Ann,
"In spelling, "How do you spell 'Piss Off" ?
Ann Robinson: "P-I-S-S-O-F-F" ?
No, I need a further answer than that from you.......
Ann Robinson: "OK. P-I-S-S-O-F-F A-N-N-R-O-B-I-N-S-O-N-I-A-M-T-H-E-W-E-A-K-E-S-T-L-I-N-K-G-O-O-D-B-Y-E"
Correct, and, by the way, you look ridiculous after your vanity-led venture into the hopeless world of cosmetic surgery. Why not grow up with dignity and be happy with yourself instead of ripping the shit out of the people your production team invited onto your programme? Makes you look even more stupid and once you become 70 years of age you WILL regret it.
I already do. (Not that I'm 70, just regretting you're in all likelihood going to get there. )
So....
Producer: "Why exactly did you vote Ann off the screen?"
Bobby Davro: I'll tell you. It's because the people of this country deserve better than Endemol Productions, than being patronised by a human cowpat and than having nothing better to do than pretending they enjoy both. There is better stuff to do, people. Buy a computer and Listen Again to Tommy Boyd. Legend. You may find him annoying (I don't) but hearing anything he says is much more rewarding than everything which has splattered itself up your televisual U-tube from Ann Robinson's botox-affected gob.
Ann Robinson: *Winks* Goodnight!
14.45 Taxi !
Pointless exploration into the world of sfuffing deceased animals. With Ben Fogle.
14.46 The Eurovision Thong Contest
Terry Wigon hosts the annual look at the most ridiculous downstairs hairpieces that the EU can deploy on our screens. This year, Royaume Uni is a favourite to score Nul Points ,as Geri Halliwell exposes her George W Bush in Union Jack Colours to the tune of 'We Are The Champions', with the colours of the flag of Iraq on her back - a country we apparenty hate (and whose war we have with its mostly innocent people) created by the way 80 years ago as we dissolved the ridiculous notion of an Empire.
Fucking Tosh, the lot of it. Get them out, bring them back home and let their children see their parents - an option many Iraqis don't have.
15.00 The Ex Fucked Her
In the absence of Jeremy Kyle, Simon Cowell hosts this imaginative reality show in which idiots who have ceased to have contact with their previous girl/boyfriends, but whom claim to have made happy love with their previous partners, confront their demons. In this programme - nevermind the social consequences of appearing hapless and exploited in front of the nation - the demons are Cowell, Sharon Osborne and Louis Walsh. Fuck them. If you're that way deranged.
16.00 Bot Camp
Naked gay people slug out their differences in the comfort of the Calafornian desert. With their bums as their only weapon. Shit!!
16.30 Jeremy Vile
An amazing thing has happened, viewers. Jeremy Kyle has been reincarnated. Jesus H Christ. Guests air their differences in front of a studio audience... FUCK ME!! HAS NO-ONE LEARNED FROM THE PAST??? THIS MAN IS THE ESSENCE OF EVIL. IF YOU COULD CREATE A LOLLIPOP OR ICE-CREAM THAT STANK AND TASTED OF SHIT, YOU'D CALL IT THE KYLE '99. AND WHILE I THINK ABOUT THOSE NUMBERS AND THAT CONCEPT, I FEEL I WOULD RATHER LIKE TO CREATE MY OWN TV PROGRAMME - 'KYLE 999' - A BIT LIKE CASUALTY BUT FILMED IN REALTIME AS I PHONE THE EMERGENCY SERVICES AFTER BEATING THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF THIS STINK OF A CUNT.
Fuck. I'm emigrating.
17.00 Kylewatch
Mary, Joseph and the Son of God. May no-one have witnessed any sighting on CCTV of this man. If you have, phone us now. If you don't disclose anything which would enable his instant death, I'll send Nicky Campbell round in the passenger seat of a hearse, armed with a sledgehammer, ready for your immediate demise.
17.10 FILM: STAR WARS: REVENGE OF THE SICK
Princess Leia vomits on an Ewok.
19.30 Peter Powell's Power Pumping Pulling Purpose!
The ex Radio 1 DJ reveals the secret of romance, and how to get a bird into bed. However, Anthea Turner doesn't feature in this exploratitive expedition into the art of seduction.
18.00 Anthea Turner's Perfect Home!
Without Peter Powell
18.01 SHIT !!
A crow shits on the cast of Crossroads. But none of them notice.
18.01.30 With Hilarious Consequences !
Harry Hill takes us through a catalogue of home-made video howlers! This week's show features hapless nobodies tumbling off a jetski or falling over at their wedding, their parrot saying 'bugger', their mother falling into a bush, a fat dad ruining their child's birthday party by splitting the paddling pool, an idiot falling off a log, someone's cat opening a door, a dog eating its tail, an old woman wobbling into the path of a horse, a car skidding into a young child, a knife plunging its way into a pig, a cow being decapitated, a nuclear warhead falling into the wrong hands, a pig burping, a maniacal woman in her wedding dress screaming accidentally at Gordon Brown, a coach full of 25 children plunging over Beachy Head, a hamster doing cartwheels, a miner failing the polevault, someone stepping in a turd, and a budgie wielding a machete at some Brazilians.
All with Hilarious Consequences!
Send your videos in now to 'With Hilarious Consequences', P O Box 17845923763957937459365697236920-78262520-73560-71075-285640-721t82102396397629 London, England.
£2.50 per video shown
18.30 Twat
With Noel Edmonds
18.31 Deal Or No Deal
Dressed as the elusive Banker, I point a gun at Noel Edmonds's head and ask him if he wishes to live in exchange for all the cash in every red and blue box offered as potential prize money over the past two years.
Deal?
Deal .
And that's a good deal for you too, viewers because i might shoot him anyway once I get the cash!
18.45 Meal Or No Meal
Noel Edmonds roams the streets of London on Christmas Day, trying to find the most deserving hapless tramp who needs a bit of nosh. But there's a catch! In Noel's hands are two boxes - one red and one blue ! In one of the boxes there lies a sumptuous meal of turkey, delicately peppered with sweetly seasoned sausagemeat, there is a beautiful chestnut, apricot and bacon stuffing, there are roast potatoes, brussel sproults, there's gravy, a delicious red cabbage and carrot side dish and once this fantastic dish has been consumed by the dirty messy layabout, he or she could enjoy a gorgeous Christmas cake scented with the irresistable aroma of the finest Cognac. There will be mince pies too - and a splendid board of cheese to choose what should go with the free biscuits available. There will be wine to accompany all courses and coffee and the best mints to follow. Wonderful - an orgasm in this waste of space's mouth.... Mmmmm.
In the other box there is a Polo and a cat poo.
So, tramp - Meal Or No Meal ?
If I were you I'd just wait til the day after Boxing Day, shift your arse off the South Bank and get a cheque so you can buy a Pot Noodle.
Merry Fucking Christmas.
19.00 Wheel Or No Wheel
Reprisal of The Late Late Breakfast Show! Richard Hammond gets in a jet-powered car, not knowing if it's been fully serviced or has a proper MOT certificate. ( Don't worry, it doesn't. ) Noel Edmonds presents his final programme.
19.10 I Love The Noel Edmonds
Blank screen for a bit, but there are tips on beard trimming from Monty Don and maintaining a coiffure from Princess Diana-George-Michael. And an obituary from Joe Pasquale.
Keith Chegwin, Maggie Philbin, John Craven, Mike Read, Posh Paws, Igor, Chris Tarrant, The Banker, Sally James, The Hilarious Lenny Henry, The Phantom Flan Flinger, Bruno Brookes, Damon Albarn, Michael Morpurgo, Tony Blair, Colin from next door, Mr Spock, and David Icke had other things to do.
As do I.
Off to release the feaces. Should be a good one, Noel. This one's for you.
Good deal.
1p ?
Nope.
£250,000 ?
1 poo.
Bye.
19.11 Try Something New Today !
Reality factual pgrogramme.
15 kids who hate vegetables, meat, their families, friends and their lives - but who most importantly hate the wobble-tongued fat lipped chancer that is Jamie Oliver - together in a spacecraft scented with rocket, saffron and basil, strap him to a chair with gaffer tape and watch his ship launch, travel the two million miles to the moon and laugh as they see him on hiddden camera from the dashboard of the cockpit plunge into its surface.
And it isn't made of cheese. (that's the factual part) It's fucking made of space rock.
The naked chef doesn't live I'm afraid, viewers. So 'Try Something New Today'. Go to Tesco. Every little helps.
19.30 Dessert Island Tosspot !
Sue Lawley invites a celebrity guest to chuck their favourite pudding with a saucepan, stockpot, casserole dish, sieve, fork, pair of scissors, Magimix, juicer, plate, oven, kitcthen, wooden spoon or frying-pan high up into the sky again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again, each time asking which song it reminds them of. We don't hear any of them this week, viewers, the BBC is on strike. But don't worry - the Corpoaration doesn't look like it's going to be around fror long, so this is unlikely to occur again.
So enjoy some light music and some lovely screen images while we found out what the fuck has happened.
* Cue: Tune and lovely images *
Oh. Sorry. Seems I plugged my mobile into the wrong socket.
Ahem..... So now it's time for...
18.00 Melvyn Bragg's 'You Ate My Cat!'
Melvyn Bragg laughs uncontrollably as his guest (TBC this week, but likely to be a twat) explains to his other guest why their cat is no longer with us and who is to blame.
Clue: It's Melvyn Bragg.
18.30 Slop of the Pops
New Dads take a well earned rest and make sure their excrement goes where it should. Barry Scott is on hand with Clit Bang. And we get to hear the song which is at the head of the Shit Parade.
Bang! And the dirt is gone !
18.42 Granddadstand
Elderly gentlefolk are forced to listen to loud music - really fucking loud music - until they fall over. This is the only sport to which the BBC now owns the rights. But it won't stop me from watching this and laughing as though I only had one more day to live.
20.00 Dick And Dom's Funhouse Takeaway Bonanza Madcap Crazy DooLally Madcap Sensational Madcap Party Superstore Tiswas Swapshop Madcap Going Live Barnhome Flagpole Antler Newswatch, Breakfast, You Ate My Cat, Madcap, Slop Of The Pops, Granddadstand Double Cream With that News 24 Shitefest !
With Ant & Dec.
21.00 To Wit Or To Woo ?
Cilla Black and an owl each ask silly questions of people who should know better about their private lives and about their ideal partners; avian or human. Are they funny or can they sing like a bird? Wit or woo ? My hands are clasped in disinterested anticipation.
21.01 To Wit Or To Woo ? The Results !
If you have phoned up for this, then your bank should really get in touch with you about the way you spend your money. You're not just spending it, you're wasting it, and if you're overdrawn then you shoudn't really be doing that, should you? SHOULD YOU ??? IT'S CILLA BLACK AND AN OWL FOR FUCK'S SAKE; IT'S CILLA BLACK AND AN OWL !
Christ ! I need a lie down..
21.02 Take Hart
No, seriously - take him. Take him out. And if you don't shoot the cravat-adorned camp old artist at least make him morph into Mr Bennett. Now there's a genius. A proper example of exaggerated British eccentricity. I wonder what he's doing now, don't you, viewers? And Morph - the true star of the show - whatever happened to him? OK, his command of the English language was not that of the highest quality - consisting of mostly squeaky sounds like 'Berm berm bi go do berm berm Berm berm !" but he was cool. And what of that grey friend of Morph's - Chas? I understand both escaped the Aardman fire some time ago, which is great, and that, on looking at his website, he is currently signing autographs in Scotland, while he and Morph are looking for the Loch Ness Monster. (I am not making this up.) Let's all wish them the greatest of success in this wonderful, if slightly unusual career move.
By the way, Morph and Chas ,THERE IS NO FUCKING LOCH NESS MONSTER.
MR BENNETT ! SORT THESE TWO PLASTERCINE MODELS OUT. ROLL THEM INTO A BALL AND CREATE A NEW ENEMY FOR WALLACE AND GROMIT. CALL IT 'VOMIT'. STUPID FUCKERS.
21.25 The Mr Men
Gay rights animation. Mr Bump meets Mr Strong and Mr Tickle makes Mr Topsy-Turvy very Happy. Mr Small meets Mr Tall and Mr Greedy gets to know Mr Skinny a good deal better. Mr Noisy embarrases his neighbours upon screaming as Mr Grumpy refuses to entertain Mr Mean; "I'D LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT !", he cries, but to no avail. Mr Fussy can't decide whether his new best friend is Mr Worry or Mr Little Miss Naughty.
Mr Muddle gets things out of place with Mr Worry and Mr Impossible has an entertaining time with Mr Topsy-Turvy as Mr Silly laughs, though later becomes spellbound at the sight of Little Miss Tiny's fun with Little Miss Greedy. Mr Muddle is later confused about where he is, why he's here and whether he prefers Little Miss Curious or Little Miss Fun, Mr Nosey pokes it where it simply isn't wanted as Mr Snow snorts a line of cocaine. Mr Lazy can't be arsed - and he rouses from his slumbers to make that perfectly clear to Mr Tickle. Mr Chatterbox can't stop talking, so Mr Daydream ponders Mr Quiet's reaction to the meeting of Mr Messy and Mr Jelly. Mr Tidy is disgusted at the ensuing carnage. Mr Rush can't wait to get it over with as Mr Impossible and Mr Clumsy achieve a feat you'd never have believed. Mr Forgetful rembers too late to have bought a condom. Mr Nonsense, Mr Silly and Mr Funny have a gay old time but all hell breaks loose as Mr Sneeze has an accident while pleasuring Mr Uppity. Little Miss Scatterbrain ate some smarties instead of taking the pill, Mr Mischief and Mr Tall have enormous fun together with Mr Brave. Mr Busy entertains himself to the chagrin of Mr Grumpy, Mr Slow insists it doesn't happen like this every time to an impatient Mr Rush...
And as for Mr Wrong and Mr Rude... Well... Poor Mr Small.
21.50 Dora The Explorer
Now here's the thing. This is a well intentioned animation which tries a) to bring together the English and Spanish speakers within the United States, b) to use both Spanish and English words to encourage an understanding of each others' language, both in a comical and simple (in the correct use of that word) way.
SO WHY THE HELL DO ALL THE CHARACTERS NEED TO FUCKING SHOUT ? I would love to learn Spanish. I would have, as a child, enjoyed the programme.
BUT I CANNOT BECAUSE EVERY THIME THE VOICES GET TOO LOUD, IT RENDERS IT AS IMPOTENT IN THIS REGARD.
"CAN YOU SEE ANYTHING THAT CAN HELP US CROSS THE RIVER ??", screams Dora.
(The screen shows us a boat. On a river. )
"CAN YOU SEE A BOAT?"
(Of course I can see the fucking boat - it's in the middle of the river. I'm not fucking stupid.)
"SHOUT WHEN YOU CAN SEE A BOAT !"
No. I shan't.
"SHOUT 'BOAT' WHEN YOU CAN SEE A BOAT !"
Go away. And the animated cursor / arrow doesn't help. That's a ridiculous gimmick and it doesn't work.
"DID YOU SPOT THE BOAT ?"
Yes. Of course I spotted the boat. It was in the middle of the fucking river. But I mean it. Go away.
"CLAP TO HELP US PULL THE BOAT TO SHORE !"
Fuck off will I clap...
( Pause..... )
"GREAT ! YOU HELPED PULL THE BOAT TO SHORE !"
No I didn't.
"NOW WE HAVE TO FIND THE TREASURE ! WILL YOU HELP US FIND THE TREASURE ? SHOUT 'TREASURE' IF YOU'RE GONNA HELP US FIND THE TREASURE !"
AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH.
Why is this programme on TV? The meaning is there, the animation is simple and friendly for children of any ages. But fuck Christ - it helps no-one in this country because of the lack of concern ITV have shown in buying this trunk of gunk. It's a sorry excuse for CITV's choice of programming. Kids need to learn languages for sure - but Dora the Explorer can take an extensive expedition up my arse. See what you find there with your monkey friend and your other gimpish colleagues.
ITV - stop buying in crap like this and give children something worthwhile. Or just shut up shop and admit it's shite. Because it is.
Let's watch something else.
22.10 BBC News 24
BREAKING NEWS - SOMETHING MAY HAVE HAPPENED OR IT MIGHT NOT, WE DON'T KNOW THE FULL DETAILS YET, BUT LET'S CATCH UP WITH OUR CORESPONDENT DICK TWATSOP FOR AN UPDATE. DICK...?
"Well something may have happened involving a terrorist plot or a sinking ship or a missing child or a bomb or a sporting disaster or a bit of business news, but we're not sure what it is yet."
OK. THANKS, DICK, KEEP US UPDATED. IT SOUNDS SERIOUS.
"It may be, but it might not be. The facts are not in. But it's difficult to pass comment on the nature of the possible outcome of this breaking news. And that's because it's breaking news."
AND HOW ARE PEOPLE TAKING THIS? HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO ASCERTAIN THE OPINION OF THE POLICE, COASTGUARDS, THE HOME OFFICE, BARCLAYS BANK, GUILDFORD BOROUGH COUNCIL, THE IRAQI GOVERNMENT, VIRGIN RAILWAYS, UNA STUBBS OR ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES OF THIS BREAKING NEWS?
"No, not yet. The news is still breaking."
AND PRESUMABLY PEOPLE ARE WORRIED. IS THERE A HELPLINE FOR ANYONE CONCERNED ABOUT THIS BREAKING NEWS?
"Yes there is. But I'm not sure of the actual phone number. As I say, it's still breaking news."
WELL, WHAT CAN YOU SEE FROM WHERE YOU ARE? IS THERE ANY SIGN OF UNREST?
"Well, I'm in my hotel room watching Sky News on the TV.No sign of any unrest here."
AND WHAT ARE SKY NEWS SAYING? CAN THEY GIVE US AN UPDATE ON THE BREAKING NEWS ?
"All they can say is that some news is breaking - and that that's the main issue - the breaking news is that some news is breaking. We just have to wait patiently to find out what that news is and how it's breaking, the timeline for any action to tackle this breaking news and for anyone to make an official statement about the situation."
IT MUST BE AN ANXIOUS TIME FOR THE FAMILIES OF THOSE INVOLVED..?
"Well absolutely. But because we don't know anything about what's happened - or indeed what HAS happened, the advice would be for everone at home to stay calm but prepare for the worst. This could be something that affects everyone in the country - or it may just be a storm in a teacup affecting nobody whatsoever. We don't know. As you'll understand, it's not advice I can give in my capacity as a BBC fop to say anything. We just don't know. But what I DO know is that - and I'm just hearing this - the news HAS now broken. It's broken news !"
BROKEN NEWS ?
"Yes."
WHAT IS THE NEWS ?
"It's broken. The news is that the news is officially broken but it appears no-one was hurt."
WHAT ABOUT UNA STUBBS ? IS SHE OK
(Pause)
IS UNA STUBBS OK? DICK? DICK? DICK?
(Pause)
I'M SORRY, WE APPEAR TO HAVE LOST THE LINE, BUT THAT REPORT THERE FROM DICK TWATSOP. AND OF COURSE WE'LL KEEP YOU UPDATED ON ANY DEVELOPMENTS OF THIS BROKEN NEWS. BUT NOW HERE'S CAROL WITH THE WEATHER........
And the news is... ?
Fucking shite.
23.00 The Jeremy Smile Show
Granted a halo of softly tremulous gold, Jeremy descends from heaven determined to make things better for all people, rather than in his previous incarnation, battering them round the head with a vscious, hate-driven thwack from an emotional frying pan. Today he helps an elderly lady called Elsie to cross the road, he makes bread for a group of underpriveliged children, he shows Arthur Clutterbuck how to use his iPod, he hugs a poodle, he wipes the bottom of a pensioner called Doris, he removes all the world's landmines in the memory of her Saintness Lady Princess of Diana, he throws Nelson Mandela a party and cuts his hair, he solves the problem of teenage binge-drinking, he sees through his commitment to international nuclear disarmament, he finds Paul McCartney a nice new lady friend, he dissolves the UN on the condition that he becomes the Lord's messnger - replacing Jesus Christ, he discovers the is life on other planets and that we can all be friends, he ends all war forever and gives a lollipop to everybody in the entire universe, he insists that weekends will last for four days and that He, the Living Lord Jeremy Smile will personally fund every day off sick after England lose a game of football. He explains that down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor - with his lips dripping with the words of interposition and mullification - he explains - gently, how every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord Jeremy Smile shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. He allows freedom to ring, and explains to orphans that when it rings from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last.'
He then moves on to discuss how poor people don't need to have bad teeth, reveals those all important DNA results to Mary and Joseph and he gives Graham And The Team a lovely snuggly kiss.
And in a moving finale, as a gesture to his testament of good intent and for his love of mankind, he thwacks Geri Halliwell with a real frying pan.
We'll be back right after the break! So don't go away!!
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