Saturday, March 02, 2013


I'm selling dyscalculia awareness bin badges. £3 each or three for a tenner.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Dear Sir,
I read with much interest your thoughts on the acting profession and believe your readers might be interested in my story. I started out as an actor and, after a couple of lean years where I supplemented my income by guesting in countless hardcore porn films and mugging children, I began to make real progress. I appeared in Juliet Bravo, Yes Prime Minister and toured the north east in a self-penned one-man show entitled Look Mr Bates, It's salmon or nothing. It was a highly satirical restaurant based farce which employed metaphor to convey my feeling of abandonment by Margaret Thatcher and her government. The Middlesborough Bugle was gracious enough to call it "unintentionally hilarious". During these halcyon days there was always a nagging voice telling me that my true vocation was as a highly paid, pampered professional footballer. After a few months of indecision I finally bit the bullet and I'm now pleased to report that I finished 4th highest goal-scorer in the premier league and I enjoy the company of a different tart every night.
Yours Truly,
Marlon Harewood (West Ham United)

P.S - You can few highlights of my previous career in hardcore and slightly nauseating porn films by visiting


Dear Mr Harewood,
I felt I needed to respond to your uplifting letter (posted above) as it rang so many bells of recognition for me. I too felt a calling to fulfil a long-held ambition. Upon leaving school I had precious little focus and was unsure which exit to take on the motorway of life. After taking valuable advice from many trusted friends and family I was persuaded to take any position available at the local job centre to keep myself busy whilst ruminating to what career to ultimately pursue. Begrudgingly I accepted the vacant position as a Hollywood superstar. The pay was certainly competitve (starting at £5 million a picture) and the perks (including bimbos, lear jets and class A drugs) were tempting to a 16 year old, fresh-faced lad. I managed to hold the job for over a year before the cracks began to show. The final straw came when my last movie failed to break the $10 million barrier on bank holiday weekend. All through this time there was the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that fate had something more rewarding in store for me. I was being fellated by a 17 year old Candy in my winnabago when my moment of inspiration came - I threw Candy by one side and cried out "WHAT I REALLY WANT TO DO IS PLUMB!" Ever since my small boyhood I've had a fascination with taps and u-bends but I never in my wildest dreams thought it possible that I could actually make a living from unblocking toilets and fleecing pensioners out of their hard-earned life savings. But now all my dreams have become reality and I'm proud to say I own a small plumbing and handyman business in the west Midlands area. I even have my own van and a mobile phone!
Kevin Lovely,
The west Midlands area.

Friday, June 02, 2006

Until recently I was scratching a living as an actor (last year I was in EastEnders, really I was. I played a mate of Alfie's who dresses up as a policeman to arrest Alfie's mam - it was hilarious!) and I'm still on nodding terms with many professional thespians. Most of them are highly talented and eminently castable. Their common problem seems to be the lack of opportunity to biuld a career. This usually leads to a rapid descent into the black world of bitterness and depression, followed by alcohol or drug dependency and a life of watching daytime TV and climaxing ina miserable, lonely and tragically early death in a bedsit somewhere in east London. To my untrained eye of avoidance of this pitiful fate in straightforward. The choices are many and varied:
1) Become a reality TV 'star' who, as the 14th minute of fame decides, "What I really want to do is act"
2) Become a professional footballer who, as his knees start to give decides "What I really want to do is act"
3) Become a stand-up comedian who, as his act starts to go stale decides "What I really want to do is act"
4) Become a topless model who, as the threep'ees start to descend decides "What I really want to do is act"
5) Become a pixillated cartoon of yourself.
6) Whore yourself by going to every advert casting for some crap product you would never use for ethical reasons.
7) Get a proper job.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

I have a huge admiration for the work of Calum Best. The selfless way he sacrificed his own career and happiness to secure India’s independence from the British was truly a magnificent feat. He was jailed and beaten for his beliefs on a number of occasions but even that couldn’t deflect him from his burning passion to insure justice for a great and peaceful nation. Men of his ilk are rarely seen upon this earth and we, as a race, should be proud to walk the same ground as this colossus of human dignity who almost single-handedly change altered the moral landscape of the world……. Ah…no…….hang on, I’m thinking of Hahatma Gandhi. Calum Best on the other hand, is a professional celebrity who spends the majority of his time falling out of nightclubs in the early hours of the morning in a cocaine fuelled haze with his arm around some vacuous, large-breasted trollop.

Dear Sir,
Having read your posting (published above) I left duty bound to reply in empathy for your plight. I also have the unfortunate habit of muddling visionary beacons of world peace with minor celebrities. A number of years ago I had completed a four page letter of tribute to Mother Teresa and was standing over the postbox having just dropped my letter when it dawned on me that I had mistakenly addressed it to Abi Titmuss. Luckily Miss Titmuss was able to appreciate the funny side. I apologized to her for my ineptitude and wished her the best of luck in displaying her breasts, performing in homemade, hardcore porn flicks, shagging fellow minor celebrities, whoring herself on any TV show that would take her and generally doing nothing in her life of any value whatsoever.
Yours truly,
Margaret Planktum

Dear Miss Planktum,
I suffer from the same, unfortunate affliction. As a huge fan of the pop group Blue. I like to regularly write to Duncan James to tell him how much I appreciate their music and how it speaks directly to me, giving me some kind of understanding of this mad mad world. I particularly like Duncan because he seems the most approachable member of the band. I love his fashion sense, his haircuts and his cheeky smile. I’m also very partial to his cockney accent (even though he was bought up in the country somewhere) Many see him as a vain, essentially talentless, pointless, perma-tanned little twat who should be put down, but not me – I love him. My devotion has reached such an extent that I have undergone extensive plastic surgery to look like him, I have named all my children Duncan (I have three girls) I have smeared his name in blood on every item in my house and painted a large mural in the garden of his perfectly proportioned face. I have also bought a large area of wasteland near my house with the intention of building a seven-acre shrine in his honour (complete with parking facilities, a Blue burger bar and a crèche). Imagine my embarrassment then, when I realized I’d been addressing all these correspondences not to Duncan at all but Sir Bob Geldof, who is, of course famous for trying to eradicate starvation from the world by galvanizing public opinion and pressuring world leaders into policy change and not for singing inane pap and trying to pass his existence on this planet off as in some way important.
Anthony Tarnish

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Regular readers of this crap blog will need no reminding of how much I respect and admire the multi-talented performer Darius Danesh (any foriegn readers who are unaware of Dr Danesh - imagine someone with the songwritings talents of John Lennon blended with the on-stage charisma of a young Elvis and the rebelious attitude of James Dean - then imagine the opposite)
I was almost moved to tears last year by the way he managed to endure a grueling publicity tour for his latest crap song even though his father was seriously ill at the time with a life-threatening and usually fatal disease. It was truly humbling. Although it was evidently a deeply personal and upsetting period of his life he somehow managed to fight back the tears and only mention his father's condition about 17 times in every fucking interview he gave. He emphasized how it had strengthened the family bond and made him appreciate his nearest and dearest that little bit more. It certainly persuaded me to shell out for the single, album, DVD, t-shirt, poster, mouse mat, tea cup, pin badge and fan club membership.

P.S - His father made a miraculous recovery soon after and Darius has since moved to Los Angeles.

Please feel free to nominate your favourite celebrity twat.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

There is nothing I like to do more in my spare time than maiming minor celebrities. So far I have shot Ronan Keating, head-butted Dame Kiri Te Kanawa and stabbed Sir Trevor McDonald in the neck with a pencil. Do any other bloggers have unusual hobbies?

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Tributes have been trickling in for ex conservative M.P, writer and erstwhile actor Jeffrey Archer who is tragically still alive at the age of 64. He was discovered in the early hours of the morning by his personal assistant Heather (27) and was pronounced still alive upon his arrival at the kitchen. Although world renowned for his sharp political mind and business acumen Lord Archer likes to keep his acts of philanthropy out of the public arena. He once, for example, gave a prostitute a brown envelope full of money in the hope that it would enable her to pursue a life away from the streets. He also gave of his time to judge short story competitions and would routinely use the best ideas in his own books, thus shielding any novice authors from the glaring gaze of the media spotlight and the inevitable riches accompanying a bestseller. The highlight of his existence thus far came in 1998 when he became a lord, partly due to his services to lying. John Major said - "This is indeed a sad day. I can only hope that people take some solace in the fact that this mournful situation will one day change". Peter Andrex added, "Although I have never met Lord Archer I feel drawn to his aura. That fact that he is still alive at least means he can buy my new single which is released on the 15th May and is available at all minor record shops". Wigan Athletic's rampaging right wing-back Pascal Chimbonda was too distressed to talk last night but in a statement released by his publicist said, "Armadillos can be housebroken. In that respect they share something in common with dogs and parrots".
Lord Archer has a wife and two sons who have asked the media to respect their privacy in what must be a trying time for all concerned. They also wanted it known that the average shoe size for a male human is 9.
Please feel free to sign the book of condolence.