Gordon Ramsey - Wrinkly, Balding Cook.

The thing I hate about Gordon Ramsey is he wants to be really macho which is pathetic in itself but really pathetic when he has chosen to spend his days fannying about with custards and croutons. Cooking, maybe artistic but macho it ain't - however you dress it up, and there is nothing wrong with that. So just fuck off GR with all swearing and macho posturing being on a program called "Shark Bait!" changes nothing.


The title, suggested he was somehow going to be, well -shark bait! I was dreaming of visions of the craggy faced, potty mouth being sliced into tiny pieces and fed to millions of baby sharks, leaving only his transplanted hair, that smug grin and his forehead skin so Keith Richards can have a scrotum transplant. Did he? Did he fuck. He ponced about with a film crew, looking for soup.


The programme tried to give the air that GR was in mortal danger, "we better go before we get shot." No! Stay. I want to see you pistol whipped and made to piss yourself. Try telling a gun toting Taiwanese gangster to "fuck off," instead of a brow beaten cook in a failing restaurant, you bullying, twat. Next he ran away when a little old lady made she made a phone call. He wanted us to think she was calling in the heavies, but she was probably having a chat with her mates. Telling them that a patronising, fucktard was on her roof acting like a complete cunt.

Gordon, son, you need to think things through a little bit, before you go to other countries. Your investigative journalistic skills are somewhat impaired by talking English to everyone you meet. Asking them, "do you speak English?" and then not waiting for an answer before asking them questions, in Englis- makes you look like a moron; an arrogant, patronising moron, with a big bit of moral high ground rammed up your arse. Also, a black car slowing down to look at a film crew and then parking does not equal gangsters. I noticed after you made some vacuous comment about a "big black car, with blacked out windows," suggesting it meant trouble, the edit switched - maybe, just before your producer got out with veal sandwiches.


I don't want to see a spineless, bully going anywhere to raise awareness about anything, especially abroad, to pass judgement on an element of an industry that has so many issues to address. The fact that Ramsey's own restaurants churn out over priced nosh for people with more money than sense and probably serves, veal, foie gras and boils lobsters alive is not irrelevant. Neither is the fact that he backs the production of foie gras. He gets all watery eyed at a turtle being caught with a hook, but is happy to catch, kill and eat a puffin's raw heart on "The F Word."

Just face that fact Ramsey, you are a bundle of deluded, hypocritical, contradictions, your media persona is revolting and you should stay in the kitchen - with the door firmly closed. Stop trying to fool us into thinking you are a tough guy because you swear a lot and have run a marathon or two. Accept that fact you make cakes for a living and suck it up.


The slaughter of sharks for their fins is wasteful. "Finning" while the shark is alive is barbaric, but it is just one of many forms of animal cruelty, carried out daily, all over the world. Sharks need protecting as do many other things. But Gordon Ramsey is not man for the job. Stick to frying eggs and opening tins you twat.

Gillian McKeith eats shit and we love it!

What the fuck does Dr Poo think she is doing? I have always thought that Gillian McKeith is a few bits of sweetcorn short of a really good shit but, fuck me! Last night's "I'm a Celebrity" reached new heights of barmy old cack from the nation's favourite, NOT A REAL DOCTOR.

Let's take a look at how this crazy, old, shit poker arrived in the jungle. Gillian McKeith made a name for herself making up pseudoscience about what is nothing more than turds in boxes. She then went on to fool ratings hungry TV pond life to let her onto our tellies. Next, she was exposed as being a complete charlatan and NOT A REAL DOCTOR. Finally, Dr Poo gets in a bit of a kerfuffle on Twitter and makes herself out to be even more of a nut job, if that were possible.

Now, such a person, if they were sane, would probably not go onto a TV program where the general public, who they made into turd staring morons, get to vote on whether they eat shit or not, but Gillian McKeith does! Then in the first few minutes she tells the viewing public that she'll faint at the first sight of a fly.... McKeith may just as well've bent over and said "fist my scrawny ring piece." because that is what is going to happen.

What in a box full of bugs' name is going through her shit obsessed brain? Can she really be that desperate or greedy for cash? Is she so deluded that she thinks the public actually liker her and will be endeared by her screeching, twitching, attention seeking train wreck of a personality?

She is clearly mental, no really mental. Surely, ITV have a duty of care? Or maybe they just want to to give us the chance to see what McKeith's shit looks like? I have an image in my mind of Dr Poo with a box full of creepy-crawlies on her head, running about screaming and spraying shit all over Lembit Opik, while Shaun Ryder pisses himself laughing. Now, I would pay to see that.

Tonight they are going to bury her in a box full of bugs and rats (which will, if she is lucky and telling the truth, make her faint). She will clearly go ape-shit (to coin a phrase) and hopefully evacuate her bowels. She will scream "get me out of here!" However, viewers all over our great country will be hoping they don't let her out until she shits and vomits her pelvis and vital organs out and her eyes start to bleed.

Of course in another world we would be ashamed of our lust to see, what is essentially a mental old sack of bones being tortured on telly. But fuck it - it's Gillan McKeith, she is deluded and getting paid. So empty in the cockroaches and spiders!

Next week they are water boarding Lembit Opik until his brain explodes - that's going to fucking brilliant!

So, dear ITV can you please fix it for me to see Jeremy Clarkson spit roasted by two Shetland ponies, thank you.

Why can't I fucking post things?

Why can't I post things?

Poor old Chris Moyles!

I don't listen to Chris Moyles as he is a complete cunt. The fact that he thinks ripping off more talented American jocks, with his -let's chat to the crew bollocks and then surrounds himself with sycophantic dick wads is proof he sucks the big one. Complaining that he has not been paid by the Beeb is another reason.

Does he really think the BBC won't pay him? It is obviously a clumsy administrative error - although I wish it wasn't and they had come to their senses, realising they may as well flush the cash straight down the shitter. Now, I would tune into his show to hear them flush his money away a £10 note at a time, while he is crying in the background. Now that's radio.

So, Mr Moyles, no one feels sorry for you... thousands of people are losing their jobs right now and really not getting paid - you won't loose everything if you got sacked tomorrow. You wouldn't even have to get a proper job, as you could whore your arse to every second rate game show format going and that wouldn't hurt, as you proved so many times, you have no problem presenting yourself as an unimaginative, lard eating puss-bubble. So shut the fuck up!

Porn Star Umpa Lumpas!

You fucking morons- injecting yourselves in order to get a tan. At least grow a pair and choose smack! How, fucking stupid and vain do you have to be? Anyone, dumb enough to buy into today's beauty myth deserves everything they get. It's a shame the jabs didn't turn you purple and make your eyes explode... even then some window licker would've continued to take the stuff, convinced by the bollocks on the packet.

On the tube the other day there was a 20 something woman, caked in slap, false eyelashes - three inches long, a trout pout, enormous tits and completely orange, like a porn star Umpa-Lumpa. What the fuck is going on it her chemically saturated brain? I have no idea if she'd had surgery' but if you told me she had - I'd guess.... lobotomy!

Plastic surgery - as fashion? For fuck's sake. The one sure thing about life is that the moment we're born we're going to die. If we are lucky we will get old and then die. Some of us will turn into basket cases, sitting in our own filth and sucking our food through a straw, but get old we will. Lots of us will go a bit wrinkly, forget everything other than where the cake is and then have our hearts explode, but one way or another it will happen - so get over it. Enjoy everything thing life has to offer and stop bending over to be arse-fucked by every new "must have" consumer train wreck.

I can understand and fully support plastic surgery for people who are seriously disfigured or affected by an abnormality - yeah, an enormous conk and jumbo lugs count. If your life is being made a misery because you look like a freak and people roar with laughter and point at you as if you were the Elephant man, whenever you walk into a room - you probably need to have a few bits trimmed up here and there. But if you are deluded enough to think that enormous tits will solve your problems you are a fuckwit. Now, being a fuckwit is much more likely to be the cause of your low self-esteem than the diminutive size of your jugs - so maybe read a book or two -you mong. Having your baps inflated to the size of two medium sized space hoppers is going to make you look like.... Jody Marsh, and convince everyone that you have a donut for a brain. Men, who give you attention because you have been "cosmetically enhanced" are probably not going to respect your opinions on anything apart from dogging.

At what point did women wake up and say, "look here, in the battle for equality we need enormous hooters - they will definitely get us equal pay." Of course no woman did. Men came up with the idea. "What do we like? Titties, big old titties! And money, lots of money -- now let's have a thunk." Then all they needed to do was find some female pond-life to go along with them and have her chest expanded and next turn the concept loose in fashion and celebrity consumer culture. Bingo, rake in the cash, you've created a whole new industry. An industry that: has convinced everyone it's self empowering; is letting women take control; is a lifestyle choice just like benefits and tax evasion.

If big old hooters are not your bag you could of course have your face changed. This week's fashion fad is say - lips that look like two slugs fucking. Next thing - every wannabe singer, model, actress wants the new "look". Victoria Beckham has it done, it spreads through the papers like a virus and then the new industry moguls, sit back and watch their bank balances swell like Lesley Ash's lips.

Then you also get to sell lots of papers when someone ends up looking like a duck (Lesley Ash, again). The total lack of imagination it must take to decide to inject your lips with monkey spunk or whatever, is mind boggling. Isn't there enough shit to shovel into the back of your car in Westfield Shopping Centre, without resorting to making your face look like you blew a wasp? Have you seen Brit Ekland wearing glasses lately- Dick Emery in drag or what?

If swollen lips don't put a smile on your face, you could have a scrape, a lift, a peel or some botox. All designed to make you look younger! It's sick and ridiculous because it fools no one. Tony Curtis - wow is he 35? At least in the last few months he has given up the wigs and gone bald! But it has taken cancer and being 80+ that has finally made him realise that even Hollywood can't really make time stand still, well in real life anyway. What crippled logic tells these fucking morons that this is a good idea? They will buy into anything that is packaged and sold in the right way. Hell, they even have coffee pumped up their arses to get the shit out!

Like cosmetics, before the surgery part, this stuff was predominantly aimed at women but men are just as vain and easily parted from their cash for bollocks (probably quite literally). It started in Hollywood and now men have been hoisted by their own petard. For years bald, beer bellied, pasty faced wank-jockeys have been telling women they are too fat, thin, tall, short, their tits are too small, big, saggy or their skirts are too short or long. Now, the women have struck back and want 6 packs, tans, muscles and hair - etc. So the days of a bloke with a giant, bloated gut and prolapsed bowel, getting away with a geezer factor of 50 because of their "personality" have gone. They too are injecting themselves with stuff to make them day-glo orange and having hair punched into their spams and I hope it hurts.

Come to think of it what's the down side? If stupid people want to inflict huge amounts of pain and discomfort on themselves in order to look like a bunch of cunts - go right ahead. And if it all goes horribly wrong - you only have yourselves to blame, so shut the fuck up, put a bag over your head or give us a fucking good laugh.

Do they do cock extensions?

Got a 4x4? You Wanker!

If you own a 4x4 you are a twat. There is just no argument. The simple truth is that you own one because you are an unimaginative, fucktard that is incapable of making a simple decision for yourself. "Do I want to look like a cunt? No, then I am not going to buy that 4x4." Such a simple conclusion is over powered in your excuse for a brain by some Jeremy Clarkson, car mag bullshit that tells you that you're safer in a 4x4 in a crash. Don't fucking crash, you moron. "Oooh, oooh, I am protecting my family," why, they will only grow up to be as bigger jerk off as you? The sooner they are gravy, guts and mincemeat all over your twatty leather upholstery the better. And remember while you are "protecting" your muling brood of pond life you are putting everyone else's family and friends at the mercy of your oversize clunge mobile, probably crushing them as you try to park. Or, maybe you think you will look cool, what like a farmer - for fuck sake? I grew up in the country and believe me, farmers are not cool. Most can only tell shit from shinola by the taste.

"But, famous people drive them," I hear you bleat. If you want to be like Kerry Kertona or Dappy from N'Dubz (not sure if he can drive as he doesn't seem able to keep his trousers up - granddad) just stick your brain in a blender with some bottom dwelling Crustacea from Iceland foods and press the liquidise button. Then get a 3rd rate television crew to make a documentary about your pointless existence and let them film you having a shit.

Why not save your money and the planet or is that asking a little too much? How much fuel do you need to burn taking your spoilt brats to school? Make the little fuckers walk, are you afraid they might talk to "poor people," or normal kids who will point out very clearly, and probably with hand signals, what a first class wank champion you really are?

Of course the other excuse is, "I spend a lot of time in the country and you really need one for getting about these parts." Fuck off, last time I was in the country I noticed they had lots and lots of roads, including some very narrow ones that are already jammed up with farmers driving tractors and shit, they really need more oversized cunt mobiles. I grew up in country and learned to drive racing a knackered Ford Anglia round a muddy field. Off roading is a piece of piss if you use the peddles and gears. Hey, you can even run over you mates' bikes and be back home in time for tea, if you are any good. So just learn to drive you dick wads or better still kill yourselves.

Thank you.

Look at his Little Face.

Look at his little face - like a retarded Shrek, whose lollipop has been stolen. How can anyone be surprised that he has fucked someone other than his wife? I wonder how many multi-millionaire, twenty something, men wouldn’t play “hide the sausage” with legions of willing women, given half a chance?

Yeah, yeah, he (or someone) made a point of branding him as a family man so he could reap the cash rewards of being a media personality/sportsman. That was his idea, I am sure. You can just imagine him in a meeting saying something like – “I feel the Rooney brand should centre on family values, let’s build on the idea that this man married his childhood sweetheart and not some gold digging ming mong. Our Wayne Rooney is keeping it real, yar.” Men, like our Wayne, are children, and often not very bright children. They are sweet toothed buffoons with a key to the candy store. So please don't be surprised or morally outraged when they gorge on cheap confectionery.

They are oil that lubricates the lifestyle/branding/celebrity/shit-storm we buy into. Footballers are rich pickings for personal managers and the PR industry. No self-respecting manager is going to fail to point out the financial rewards of marrying a "Wag", if only for selling the wedding photos to “Hello” magazine. I wonder how much easier it is to sell a married image to sponsors than a playboy, fuck machine? Oh yeah, Wayne loses millions in various divorce settlements, but look on the bright side, it'll help sell shed loads of one or more of his "autobiographies!" I doubt agents and managers lose much sleep, I don't see them looking after Gazza as he tailspins into a morass of mental illness, debt and boozing. And who can blame them for exploiting a humungous cash cow we have created? If we are willing to idolise these "celebrities," pay them a fortune and invest emotionally every time they toss themselves off maybe we are the shallow idiots who should get our lives in order before we judge. Let's face it most footballers are all washed up at 35. Their earning potential is either hugely diminished or completely gone by 40, so if they don't want to end up running a pub they better claw in the cash while they can. The other problem is they are also only going to have the "jet-set" lifestyle for a short time, they need to get the high quality, spit-roasting done because the offers will start to dry up when they are only opening the local "Spangles" nightclub with fucked knees.

We laugh at the inbred fucktards on Jeremy Kyle, who rut like wild dogs with everybody within a 3 mile radius of their sordid little middens, but are then surprised that the boy or girl that lived next door, who now has a mountain of wonga because they are good at kicking a bag of air, fucks people who have all their teeth and can wear clothes that don't have elasticated waistbands. I am more surprised when they don't go champagne drinking, drug taking, cum spraying crazy. What would it take, apart from a complete lack of imagination, not try some of the treats on offer, for a limited time only, especially in our world of instant gratification? So they got married, to a poor innocent, fashion obsessed, stick insect - does anyone really care?

Feeling sorry for someone like Colleen is bollocks. She and the other Wags must have an idea that being able to shop until their feet bleed and an access all areas pass to China Whites comes with a high price tag. They buy into the whole youth equals beauty bullshit and surely even they realise that the surgeon's knife can only slow time down a little. Once they look a little less like a box fresh Barbie what chance do they stand? Screwed (or not) by the very revolting values they worship. It is like women who marry rock stars - they must know their husbands are going to hump groupies by the articulated lorry full - unless of course they marry Charlie Watts (in his 60s).

Is Wayne's prostitute humping news? Not really - it is about as news worthy as Ashley Cole is a bit of a twat and Cheryl Cole (who is apparently keeping his name - why loose a good alliterative moniker when you don't have too?) has a new dress, is giving a hand shandy to one of her dancers or is a bit poorly. If we are going to follow the lives of peanut, brained retards let's enjoy it. Let's embrace our voyeuristic tendencies, let's enjoy the titillation and the media guided curtain twitching, don't get all moral about it or act surprised. I don't want to watch Ultimate Big Brother for the intellectual conversation or the insight into what makes Vanessa Feltz, tick, other than lots of cake. I want to see them fuck and fight. I want to see them tear each other apart like wild animals and if they won't do it - release the lions and tigers! I want to see Jeremy Kyle bully a nincompoop until they kill themselves live on TV and the other guests kick Kyle until he is just a soggy smudge of blood, meat, piss and shit on the studio floor. I want to hear that Wayne Rooney has been caught dogging outside Buckingham Palace with Kerry Katona, Katie Price, John Terry and Jeremy Clarkson, while Prince Philip jizzes on the windscreen. I want to watch born again Christians, D list celebrities and Phil Collins, armed only with a rolled up copies of The Sun fight gladiators brandishing hammers, axes and big fuck of swords. I want to visit mental homes and watch the disables throw shit at each other..... am I going too far?

So next time "Half Ton Man" is on telly and you are looking at him laying naked in his own shit, or idiots on wife swap are screaming at each other, or some mentally unstable, talentless, misguided contestant is making a cunt of themselves on X Factor - ask yourself at what point will I turn off? Admit it, you love it! I am just sad it is so mundane. By the way has the film of Raoul Moat blowing his brains out ever made it to You Tube?