All You Can Cheat

A TV cookery programme has landed itself in hot water - fuck me, I'm good - for fleecing punters who voted in a competition they had no hope of winning. I watched the programme, and if I remember rightly the question was something like:

Wholegrain, Dijon and English are all types of:

A. Mayonnaise
B. Mustard
C. Meringue

The phone calls cost 25p a minute and the prize was a chance to appear on the following week's show. Big fucking whoop. Frankly, if you're the kind of person who'd pay money to get up early on a Saturday morning to go and sit at a table and say "Mmmm, that's delicious, the lemon really counteracts the richness of the duck", then you are a sushi-grade cunt who deserves to be lightly poached in a broth made from your own entrails.

(By the way, my American friends, the answer is B, mustard. It's the yellow stuff they put on hot dogs.)

Grinderman: A Review

Genius. With beards.



I sent her every type of flower,
I played her guitar by the hour,
I patted her revolting little chihuahua,
But still she just didn't want to.

I thought I'd try another tack,
I drank a litre of cognac,
I threw her down upon her back,
But she just laughed and said that she just didn't want to.

I got the no pussy blues.

Fake Twat

Poor Robbie Williams. From the glamour of alcohol and cocaine addiction to a housewife's diet of aspirin and Nescafé. The man clearly has emotional issues that no amount of fame and free gash is going to sort out.

People like Robbie will always be addicted to one thing or another, so I've drawn up a list of activities he might like to consider once he's fed up with Red Bull:

Needle sharing
Armed robbery
Self-asphyxiation
Russian roulette
Kiddy fiddling

Or how about religion? If he became a Trappist monk and took a vow of silence we'd all be spared his whining, and the tabloids could devote their spare pages to the things that really matter - Britney's shaven haven head and D-list celebs with enormous bosoms.

The Interpretation of Dreams

The only mammals that don't dream are the spiny anteater and the dolphin. Dolphins don't experience REM sleep because their brains never completely shut down, whereas the spiny anteater doesn't dream because it can't conceive of anything weirder than itself to dream about.

When a human being dreams about anteaters it forewarns that he should proceed with caution before entering into a business agreement. When he dreams about dolphins it signifies that he is either a tree-hugging tosser or a chav on a spending spree.

Feed Your Head

What, no bubble?

(For the benefit of Johnny Foreigner, this is bubble. Now try and tell me that British cuisine isn't the finest in the world.)

I Think, Therefore Islam

I wish I was a Muslim. No one ever talks about the stylish facial hair or how fucking erotic those women look in their peephole dresses; it's all bombing this and beheading that... But say what you like about the pork-dodgers, at least they're not Christians. I'd convert tomorrow, if only I could find a sect that wouldn't rip my tongue out for drinking vodka. Then I could stop shaving and declare a fatwa on Bono. Bismillah!

Mock the Week: A Review