Whaddaya know, Mr and Mrs Patterson want to raise three big ones so they
can enjoy a self-catering Hoseasons boating vacation on the Norfolk
Broads. It's not my cup of tea, coochie-coo - the only broads Theo
Kojak's interested in are the ones who make my eggs over easy and keep
my side of the bed warm at night, capice?
Many people breathed a sigh of relief last week when the Large Hadron Collider smashed some protons together and the planet failed to blow up. But, as I observed at the time, if the researchers at Cern were going to blow up anything it should probably be a photograph of TV scientist, Professor Brian Cox, with the top button of his Wranglers undone.
EVERYONE is saying itâ€™s great that the Chandlers have finally been
released by their swash buckling captors. But is it just me who thinks
this development is a little too convenient?
AND so I am to appear on I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here. As an aesthete I am naturally repelled by the unstoppable march of reality television programmes and the oxygen they lend to the dismal, slack-jawed 'personalities' who scramble to appear on them.
Being the cleverest person in the room is an incredible feeling. You probably worry that the hours you spend on Facebook looking at photo albums of people you don't know or reading celebrity gossip magazines is making you stupid. It is not...
THIS dude comes into ma office the other day and I ask him his name and he comes back with 'Vic'. I says to him: "Tell me Vic, in the last three years have you been involved in a muthafuckin' accident that wasn't your fault?"
GREETINGS, fellow scumbags. I speak to you from deepest, darkest Soho in London Town. I'm up early on this fine, crisp English morning - the birds are singing and I've just completed my first rebellious act of the day by not saying 'hello' to the special constable who walked past my house...
Like you, I was utterly addicted to the Chilean miners and couldnâ€™t tear myself away when it came to eviction night.
NOW pay attention men. Last night at around 17.00 hours, I took delivery
of the latest batch of DVD videograms I've been asked to review,
courtesy of Mr Jones, who also included a lamb chop and two pork
My hotel is right on the Strip so I wasn't surprised when I found traces of GSR in my toilet. I was able to guesstimate the TOD to be 4am. There was no use looking for the VIC - he'd be six metres under the Nevada desert by now, his dental records vanished without a trace. Further investigations under the bed revealed a Riverdance DVD and a Scholl Party Foot...
"Something tells me the only type of music Simon Cowell can hear these days is the kind that's piping wistfully from his skin flute."
Dispatches from Poppy Spalding
Wednesday: San Francisco
Out clubbing, I met so many ultra-friendly gender pirates, including a stunning boy called Andy who was like seven feet-tall, even with his stilettos off...