EVER tried to be proud to be British then remembered we made an obese pink-and-yellow monstrosity that only said ‘Blobby’ Christmas number one? And it didn’t stop there:
Invented as a deliberately crap joke on Noel’s House Party, Mr Blobby once towered over the nation’s consciousness like a colossus. He starred on our most popular TV show and was the top attraction at three theme parks. Why? What rational country would do this to themselves?
Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-laa and Po – the four horsemen of the pre-school apocalypse – were imbecilic morons spouting gibberish who proved wildly popular, presaging Brexit. Were narrowly beaten to the Christmas number one by another cartoonish band popular with idiot kids, The Spice Girls.
A huge green ventriloquist’s dummy duck that wore a nappy and spoke in a high-pitched Yorkshire accent about wishing he could fly, created in an Army psy-ops lab and used against the British people at the height of Thatcherism. And yes, we bought his f**king single too.
Wee Jimmy Krankie
A woman playing a small, mischievous Scottish boy alongside her husband, who played her father. Every child of the era remembers how deeply disturbed they were when they found that out. It led to questions that no school sex education teacher could answer. Yet despite it all they’re second-rank national treasures.
In contrast to Orville, this bird puppet was entirely focused on violence. All he did was viciously attack people without provocation and Britain absolutely loved him for it. So why wouldn’t far-right wankers from the National Front to Tommy Robinson think this was the way to our hearts?
Since the 1980s Piers Morgan, a parody of an arrogant, conceited, pompous, newspaper editor and TV presenter, has enthralled the nation. Pushing boundaries of tedium and obnoxiousness, he’s delighted us for decades. Because there is something f**king wrong with us.