Guest Blog: Frank Gallagher

Everyone has been so totally and utterly amazing, sending me flowers and various other gifts for all my hard work over the past eleven series, but unfortunately all good things must come to an end.

It’ll be strange, but something of a relief to step out of Frank’s untrustworthy working class trainers and back into Frank’s safe, upper-middle class deck shoes once more. In fact, to celebrate this I’m taking a year off and spending time with my wonderful wife, Portia, in our villa over in Tuscany.

As I shave off the unruly facial hair and dispose of the cheap, white trash clothes for the last time, my mind goes back to my very first meeting with the head of Channel Four drama in the Groucho Club. I remember him telling me that he wanted a show that is ‘a celebration of working class people acting like utter fucking shitbags’. We agreed that this was a wonderful idea and extremely clever of us both.

The recent wrap party was an absolute blast. It was held in this awesome new bar complex which is housed in an amazing converted match factory. The organisers thought it would be fun if the event was themed around working class alcoholism.

So we had 500 bottles of Happy Shopper Vodka shipped in, 1500 cans of Kestrel Super stacked behind the bar and to top it all, a gigantic 600 litre bottle of White Lightning to welcome the cast and crew.

The catering was also wonderfully ironic. There were revolting cheese footballs, disgusting party food from Iceland as well as several Sarah Lee gateaux. It all tasted utterly dreadful, but we had so much fun laughing at the desperate mediocrity of it all (whilst at the same time thanking God for Waitrose).

Everyone had turned up dressed in leisure wear, and Portia even joined in by wearing an awful denim skirt and some cheap jewellery which bought her out in the most horrendous rash.

So how will people remember Frank? Will they say ‘Frank was a good bloke’? Will they say ‘Frank was the embodiment of working class Britain’? Or will they say ‘I wish there were more panel shows’.

Truth be told, I’m not really bothered what people think. I’m minted and it doesn’t end there, either. “Frank” has been signed up to do adverts for ambulance chasers, Primark and of course

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Harmonising mice make it through to Boot Camp

A GROUP of harmonising mice are preparing themselves for the gruelling Boot Camp stage of X Factor.

The mice, named *R’odentz by mentor Tulisa Constantavlos, secured a place in the next stage of the competition with an a capella version of Chasing Rainbows by Adele.

Tulisa called the performance ‘life changing’ while judge Louis Walsh said they could potentially be bigger than One Direction. Nicole Scherzinger basically agreed with what the others said then tried to vote them off.

Culture pundit Francesca Johnson said: “The X Factor has always been a showcase for squealing vermin.

“Meanwhile, mice are barely socialised animals with a tiny IQ and a huge appetite for cheese. The X Factor audience identifies with them very closely.”

But animal rights activist Roy Hobbs said: “These poor animals are humiliated every week. And now they are doing it to mice.

“They learn simple melodies by repetition and are then able to sing them, though of course they can’t understand the words or inject any real emotion.

“Hang on, I’ve genuinely forgotten whether we’re still talking about the mice.”