Channel 4 Unveil new Benefits Street style show.


CHANNEL4-FUCKED-UPChannel 4, Paul Dacre’s new favourite TV station is to follow up “Benefits Street” with a new “documentary” entitled “Floodplain Families.”

It follows the lives of residents in the Somerset Plains area, as they stoically face up to the aftermath of the now bi-annual floods. So far, early screenings have indicated that public sympathy is very much with the government and not the residents. “I hope they drown, I’m sick of them whining about dredging and flood defences, do fuck off! Maybe try contributing to GDP a bit more eh? “ tweeted a clearly incensed Toby Young.  Whilst financial advisor Judd Hemple echoed these sentiments adding“I do hope these mewling media whores aren’t using this ‘flooding’ nonsense as an excuse to stay off work’

One twitter user known as Fascist_ Bill_III said ‘it’s a lifestyle choice to live in a floodplain area so why should we bail them out?” Adding, “They’re all cunts and I hope Davey Jones drags them to a hellish watery grave.” …. ” Oh, and Sharks feast on their lazy fat spotty arses”

Stock Broker Anton Choke said “I don’t see why my taxes should be used to support their indolent lifestyle, besides they seem to be having a great time splashing about in the water. Maybe they should have planned ahead and built an Arc or something. After all Noah didn’t wait around for the council to help him out whining ‘Oooh those clouds look ominous’, he got off his backside and utilised his carpentry skills. “

One twitter user knows with the frankly incongruous user name – David_Cameon did show some empathy and revealed that he once had water damage and said ‘a bit of wallpaper came down’ and there were ‘drips in a bucket’ (plenty of them in We(s)tminister)

Channel 4 confirmed they were looking for families in the area who were illegal immigrants, on benefits, gay and who had a chronic substance problem but denied this was in any way exploitative. “It’s a sensitive real life drama with real people – imagine “Water World” on crystal meth,” said producer Fin Marsh.

Let’s Cheer George Up !!!


OsborneTEarsWe could show him a photo of a “prole” for example. Maybe a poor disabled person in a track suit attempting to get to a benefits office *chortle*-  C’mon the poor lad was upset. You could almost hear him mumbling “” *sob* I’ll complete your work Mother  erm I mean .. Maggie, just see if I don’t ” 


‘Mass Unemployment, factory closures, communities destroyed – this is her legacy.’



Morrissey : She was “barbaric” and “without an atom of humanity”, adding that “every move she made was charged by negativity She hated feminists even though it was largely due to the progression of the women’s movement that the British people allowed themselves to accept that a prime minister could actually be female. But because of Thatcher, there will never again be another woman in power in British politics, and rather than opening that particular door for other women, she closed it.”.



But not the Daily Mail who of course will seek to reinvent and detoxify  Margaret Thatcher’s pernicious ideology and poisonous legacy… Let the Disneyfication begin



And of the funeral…something fitting ……

Thatcher Dead

Ken Loach –  Mass Unemployment, factory closures, communities destroyed – this is her legacy. She was a fighter and her enemy was the British working class. Her victories were aided by the politically corrupt leaders of the Labour Party and of many Trades Unions. It is because of policies begun by her that we are in this mess today.

Other prime ministers have followed her path, notably Tony Blair. She was the organ grinder, he was the monkey.

Remember she called Mandela a terrorist and took tea with the torturer and murderer Pinochet.

How should we honour her? Let’s privatise her funeral. Put it out to competitive tender and accept the cheapest bid. It’s what she would have wanted.

No State funeral for ….


Thatcher - The Irony Lady

Thatcher War Whore

This is not a time for celebration. The death of Margaret Thatcher is nothing more than a salient reminder of how Britain got into the mess that we are in today. Of why ordinary working people are no longer able to earn enough from one job to support a family; of why there is a shortage of decent affordable housing; of why domestic growth is driven by credit, not by real incomes; of why tax-payers are forced to top up wages; of why a spiteful government seeks to penalise the poor for having an extra bedroom; of why Rupert Murdoch became so powerful; of why cynicism and greed became the hallmarks of our society.

Raising a glass to the death of an infirm old lady changes none of this. The only real antidote to cynicism is activism. Don’t celebrate – organise!

Billy Bragg

“She’s not been gone more than a few hours, and already the national media have cranked into gear and begun the blandly respectful eulogies – at their most critical they seem to be only able to say: ‘She polarised opinion … what’s certain is how much of an impact she made on Britain … etc etc’

Twitter set off at a pace with a thousand ‘Ding Dong the Witch is Dead’ messages only to be followed by a slew of bleeding heart liberals bemoaning the fact that people were daring to celebrate someone’s death.

Pah! Let’s make it clear: This is a cause to celebrate, to party, to stamp the dirt down. Tomorrow we can carry on shouting and writing and working and singing and striking against the successive governments that have so clearly followed Thatcher’s Slash & Burn policies, none more so than the present lot. But for now, we can have a drink and a dance and propose a toast to the demise of someone who blighted so many people’s lives for so long.

If we must show a little reverence and decorum at this time, then so be it. Our deepest sympathies go out to the families of all Margaret Thatcher’s victims.

Chumbawamba, 8th April 2013″

And Essential Reading From David Stubbs In The Quietus

Margaret Thatcher: Still More Alive Than She Herself Dared To Dream


The Omnipresent Sarah Beeny


There’s no escaping Ms Beeny, she’s back on the box with Beeny’s Restoration Nightmare AND Sarah Beeny’s Selling Houses.  To celebrate this double SB whammy here’s something we wrote for the “Orkney Bugle”  about her last show Double Your House for Half the Money


There was a time when property development/interior design shows were feted as the new rock n’ roll.  Designers such as Primark dandy Laurence Llewellyn Bowen and interior designer come mariners’ navigational device, Yorkshire foghorn Linda Barker were inescapable.  They happily fuelled the aspirational and thoroughly deluded notion that we could all become rich beyond the dreams of avarice by transforming ourselves into property tycoons.  At the same time, we were also encouraged to express our individuality via the medium of interior design.  This inevitably led to Joe and Josephine Public boldly experimenting with the sort of psychedelic colour schemes that Ken Kesey‘s Merry Pranksters would have rejected out of hand on the grounds of being too mind-bendingly garish!

However, the recession, caused in no small part by the specious view that the property bubble would continue to expand ad infinitum meant that the property development/interior design TV show format needed to have a major rethink and review just how they could reconnect with viewers.

Nowadays such shows are not about buying and selling per se, but instead they have refocused with the emphasis being on how to improve our homes and in doing so, save money.  This brings us onto Channel 4’sDouble Your House for Half the Price,” a brand new property series fronted by the property developer’s answer to Mariella Frostrup, Sarah Beeny.  The showsraison d’être reads thus “We really wanted to show people that they can turn their existing home into their ‘forever home’ for a lot less than it would cost them to move-the challenge is to increase the size of their property by up to 100%, and so create their perfect home at a fraction of the cost.”  –

The show’s strength is of course Ms. Beeny who brings an authoritative yet calming presence to proceedings.  She comes across as empathetic, knowledgeable, and in times of the inevitable crises that develop during the show, almost as reassuring as Morgan Freeman in “The Shawshank Redemption.”  Remarkably after the first series of  “Property Ladder“, the show that gave Beeny her big  TV break, Channel 4 were prepared to let her go, due to the fact that the shows aspiring property magnates, blinded by cupidity rarely paid heed to her tips.  And her tips are hard to ignore, for as in her previous TV outings she is almost upstaged by … her ever-prominent nipples!  These are nipples so impressive and imbued with such power that even a thick leather jacket fails to mask their unerring ability to remain permanently erect.  One can’t help but feel that even the slightest drop in temperature could result in an internal wall being completely demolished.  Essentially this show is “Property Ladder” meets “Grand Designs” albeit on a smaller recession friendly scale.  However, the projects chosen avoid being overtly ostentatious but still manage to retain a certain “wow factor” as the final “reveal” is shared with the viewers.  After all watching somebody construct a new electricity cupboard in a terraced house in Birkenhead, no matter how enthusiastically, would not exactly result in great TV.

Despite the property crash this style of show, which has become something of a Channel 4 staple, remains strangely compelling even if they do induce a vague sense of dissatisfaction with your own home.  However you can seek solace in the fact that whilst the housing market has flattened and the yield curve has inverted, Sarah’s redoubtable nipples remain as impressively perky as ever.

Leveson Update

Humour, Politics

Yesterday’s Leveson inqury was once again interrupted, this time in the form of an elderly wild eyed Italian gentleman who claimed he was Jeremy Hunt‘s long lost father. Known only as Mister Gepetto and describing his occupation as “Toy maker”  he was clearly overwhelmed with emotion “Its just like a fairy story” he said, “we’ve been apart for so long but I knew one day we’d be reunited. I do worry about “Jeremy” as he likes to be called nowadays, because  one day we hope he will grow up to be a real boy ,but only if he is kind and honest and true, the blue fairy said so”.

Geppetto stated he was looking forward to getting home to his “family” consisting of a goldfish (“Cleo”) and a cat (“Figaro”) ” there will be much music and dancing ” He also spoke emotionally about a cricket named “Jiminy”, who it transpires wears a top hat and is allegedly Pinocchio’s Jeremy’s official conscience, and also of an island where little boys turn into asses (the house of commons?)

“Mister Geppetto” is currently being detained in a secure unit for his own safety pending an assessment of his mental health, Jeremy Hunt remains in government and thus his chances of growing up to be a “real boy” are considered remote.

Here Comes The Sun


Murdoch announces a new Sunday newspaper – The Sun on Sunday, (erm wasn’t that the News Of The World?)  which lets face it is not  the best news in the world.

What would the first edition look like ?

The Scum On Sunday*Click pic for large version*

UK Riots In Pictures.


Feral Youth Blamed For London RiotsAs the London  riots escalated, people looked for a hero, for leadership, for …

Boris Johnson, London Mayor

Click pictures for large versions .

I would very much recommend the two following articles  for further reading.


Britain’s Got Inertia.

Britain's Got Talent - Shitefest

If Bowie had been born into a different era....

In Defence of Britains Got Talent. ( Well not really.)

The cultural phenomenon that is “Britain’s Got Talent”  has been back with us for a few weeks,  sucking out our brains like some sort of televisual zombie, feasting on our inertia, wallowing in our apathy and as is the way with a  Simon Cowell  ‘format’  it never makes the mistake of under estimating the great British public’s insatiable appetite for mind numbing shite.

My dislike for ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ and all it stands for is based purely and simply on my pervious, soul shrivelling experiences of all things Cowellian. Robson And Jerome,  Zig And Zag, Sinitta, that little prick Louis Walsh, Cheryl Cole . . . need I go on ?  His crimes against popular culture are numerous, heinous and unrelenting.  Yet incredibly, having studiously avoided “ BGT” for a number of  years my view and possibly my brain had started to soften, maybe  I’d been a little harsh – after all, it’s just ‘a bit of fun ‘isn’t it ?  Maybe it’s improved immeasurably since I was harrowed to the very core of my being by the likes of  Susan Boyle and the ‘side splitting’ antics of Stavros Flatley.  And so I decided in order to have a valid contemporary opinion I should at least give the show another viewing. To this  end I have just spent the last hour on youtube and observing people who have at the very  least, an inflated  sense of their own ability and at worst are seriously mentally ill, but enough about the judges . Of the contestants you can’t help but wish their parents had said ‘ No little Jenny, you do NOT have the voice of Maria Callas, but serving happy meals might be something you’d like to consider as a career option.’ There is certainly a lot to be said for tough love The so called expert judges including for this series, Britain’s unfunniest  (but possibly most annoying man,) Michael McIntyre,  perform their scripted roles with the deftness of a charging elephant and effect spontaneity with all the confidence of Jean Claude Van Damme playing Hamlet . But of course that’s not the issue here, this is after all , as people keep telling me ‘just a bit of fun’.

Watching the ‘highlights’  has been a spirit crushing experience and has  left me feeling tainted, depressed and lobotomised by the sheer stupidity of this lamentable charade.  The on screen ring masters, two gurning vertically challenged, stage school, millionaire Geordie luvvies,  giggle, guffaw and simulate conspiratorial ironic exasperation in order to connect with the TV audience at home,  a skill which has rather  bafflingly seen them regaled as national treasures.

And ‘connect’ is the crucial word here, because for all its faults, it’s unremitting shitness and it’s spirit crushing crassness, ‘Britain’s Got Talent ‘does one  thing extremely well. It understands it’s audience and fills the emptiness in their life. Simply put it fills a void with a void.  Cowell may not understand what makes a great song, he may not understand the avant garde,  he may be terrified of the artist who wants to push boundaries  and challenge the status quo, but he understands implicitly how to make money from defending the status quo. Cowell’s skill is turd polishing and presentation, essentially he appropriates various elements  from redundant TV  formats, the variety show, the talent show, the pantomime and like Dr. Victor Frankenstein re-assembles these parts to  create a monster.   Not unlike Cheryl Cole, initially it  appears to be beautifully constructed, stylish and represent ….. and there’s the rub , and represent what exactly???. Because the truth is “BGT”  is  the antithesis of talent, it is a  vapid , empty sexless piece of contrived propaganda,  which assumes the public is a bovine herd  made up of fatuous indolent idiots.

It was once said that people knew exactly what they were doing when  Martin LutherKing was assassinated or when JFK lost  an ill advised game of head tennis with a bullet.  They remember the shock when Lennon was murdered and were stopped in their tracks when news that Elvis had ‘left the building’ -permanently.  Yet nowadays ‘BGT’ is fawned over by the media and presented as having the same  cultural significance as the aforementioned events.  And of course we  all know exactly where we were , sitting on the fucking couch, gorging on kettle chips, complicit and acquiescent  in the dumbing down of  ‘event TV.’  You see  Cowells leathery withered gonads have ‘tea-bagged’  popular culture and his only contribution to it is to create a generation of couch potatoes who talk with misty  eyed reverence about the first time they saw and heard their hairy angel spirit guide, Susan Boyle.   And that’s what ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ gives us, something that we all crave as social animals,   the collective experience,  it’s just a shame it’s such a  fucking shit one, the televisual equivalent of holding your lighter aloft  at a Chris De Burgh concert whilst shitting into an empty polystyrene fish and chip tray. It’s a  parallel universe  were bad is good, wrong is right  a world were the mundane  is GOD,  where innovation is crushed, talent is feared  and where the banal ultimately triumphs, it IS the lowest common denominator made flesh. To quote Bill Hicks ” They’re so good, and so clean-cut, and they’re such a good image for the children.” Fuck that! When did mediocrity and banality become a good image for your children? I want my children listening to people who fucking rocked!

Stavros Noelbarn

People have called me a snob, of being a killjoy, of trying to spoil their fun with some sort of elitist agenda, but the reality is that surely there is nothing more elitist  than sitting on your expensive couch with your nice middle class friends sneering and sniggering  from your  perceived position of superiority as people’s dreams are dismantled by the very rich in the name of cheap nasty entertainment.  These ‘tastemakers’ contribute nothing of worth to popular culture, they debase it,  using  it as a vehicle to promote their own empty ‘brand.’  They take and give NOTHING back. ‘BGT’ is Jerry Springer/Jeremy Kyle style bear baiting with a karaoke machine, jugglers and synchronised dancing.

In essence I was right to despise the crass manipulative nastiness of  Britain’s Got Talent, but now after revisiting it ,  I not only loathe the show , I also pity the  eleven million plus who regularly lap up this drivel.   ‘Britain’s Got Talent’  is a void inside a vacuum, a hateful hat ful  of hollow and  Oscar Wilde’s epigram ‘Public opinion exists  only where there are no ideas’  could well be the shows tag-line.  It is  a show made by manipulative lazy cunts to be enjoyed by lazy complicit acquiescent cunts When  popular culture finally draws it’s last breath and all we have left are ‘Syco’ approved  power ballads and REO Speedwagon tribute bands  what will your excuse be ? .. “I couldn’t be arsed??”  –     We really do deserve better.

Nick Clegg Admits ‘Power Is My Viagra’.


Nick Clegg does a Sally Bercow

The VP Express  uncovers the capital’s sexiest places: Here Nick Clegg describes the appeal of living in view of David Cameron‘s shiny pink arse.

The view from number 10 is incredibly sexy, particularly at night with the moon and the glow from the old gas lamps. When David  and I were first courting we used to walk along the South Bank and look at the Houses of Parliament. I never realised then how sexy I would find living under Big Dave with his bells chiming.

Politicians as a breed, aside from maybe Eric Pickles, aren’t particularly sexy but I think politics can be sexy because power is an aphrodisiac. I can’t enough of it .  Since Dave became Prime Minister, the number of women who hit him has gone up dramatically. I don’t get jealous because more men hit me too. I think it’s hilarious and extremely flattering that I’ve been referred to as the Barry Chuckle of British politics.

I don’t mind people knowing about my history of one-night stands, broken promises and alcoholism. I was a bit souped-up when I was  Leon Brittain’s  European Union policy adviser in my twenties. I’m not proud of it but I’m not ashamed either. I do feel sexier now I’m older and I’ve stopped drinking. I think I grew up in my thirties and gained control of myself.

For dates I like to go somewhere down to earth, and you can’t get more low brow than crawling in  Hell’s gutter  on a double date with Rebekah Brooks and James Murdoch. I’ve got a sweet tooth so I find puddings, particularly chocolate, very sexy and  it also helps sweeten the bitter pill Lib Dems have been forced to swallow of late. This Valentine’s Day, David is destroying the country in the evening, so I will probably be eating a Chinese takeaway and a bar of chocolate on my own upstairs…just waiting to feel his touch, to bask in his glory and hopefully  enjoy mutual approbation later.   The most romantic thing I’ve ever done for  David is to allow him to f*ck me and my party up our collective arse.  He’s a very lucky man.  “

With apologies to Sally Bercow and The London Evening Standard

The BBC and the ‘C’ word parts 1, 2 and 3


BBC and The C Word !

‘Ever get the feeing people are trying to tell you something ?’

Brillo bonced Newsnight Rotweiller, Jeremy Paxman recently  added himself to the illustrious band of  BBC broadcast journalists to reveal their subconscious  feelings toward the fucking twats, ahem, excuse me, I’m sorry, I mean the  coalition. This week he joined James Naughtie and Andrew Marr as the third person to mention the ‘C’ word  in relation to the government when he said ‘Supposing, though, some of the people who ought to be paying taxes so the cunts, cuts aren’t so bad aren’t actually doing so.” It certainly echos what most of the country is feeling at present, so let’s enjoy them in all their glory once more…..

Jeremy Paxman

James Naughtie

Andrew Marr

Badge Kissing Mercenaries



I’ve long given up following football since Murdoch’s filthy lucre  poisoned it’s well. The greed of the players now is probably on a par with bankers and despite my ambivalence towards footie  it’s still annoying when these badge kissing mercenaries show little regard for their club or fans.  The latest to throw his toys out of the cot is Liverpool striker Fernando Torres who has handed in a transfer request after hearing news of interest from  Chelsea –  They really are a shower of spoilt, pampered w**kers.