2011 Ends With Dignity

I wish you all a fantastic 2012. Thanks for reading over the past year (even the quiet months, which I'll be telling you all about soon), and promise to be slightly less doom-laden in the coming year.

Except if those fucking Mayan prophecies are actually true.

Happy Nude Year, one and all!

Yes, even you.
x

Finally... Shit Britons 2011 Part 3!

Hi there. Welcome back from Xmas hell.

Here's the third and final part of the Shit Britons 2011 results video, where Skeletor has formed a coalition (of doom) with David Cameron...




If you missed them, here's parts 1 and 2. I might edit them into 1 video when I can be bothered.




Anyway, thanks for voting David Cameron as the worst person Britain has ever produced. We'll see who wins when we run the vote again during the summer of 2012. See you then!

It's Chriiiiiiiiiiiiisssssstmaaaaaaaaaaas!

Sod the calendar. Time for this year's festive tale of misery and woe. With apologies (and two fingers up at) Dr Seuss...

The George Who Stole Christmas

Every Brit

Down in Brit-ville

Liked Christmas a lot...

But George Osborne,

Who lived in his ancestral pile,

Did NOT!

The prick hated people! No matter the season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

It could be that his head wasn't screwed on quite right.

It could be, perhaps, that his arsehole’s too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all

May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

But,

Whatever the reason,

His heart or his arse,

He stood there on Christmas, hating the lower class,

Staring down from his mansion with a sour, evil frown

At the warm lighted windows below in their town.

For he knew all the scum down outside of his gates

Were stinking and poor, the things that he hates.

"And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer.

"Poundland must be empty this time of the year!"

Then he growled, with his fat fingers nervously drumming,

"I MUST find a way to keep Christmas from coming!"

For, tomorrow, he knew...

...All the scummy girls and boys

Would wake up bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the bastards, young and old, would sit down to a feast.

And they'd feast! And they'd feast!

And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

With shoplifted chickens, potatoes and ducks,

The Tesco Value devouring fucks!

And THEN

They'd do something he liked least of all!

Every one of the scumbags, the tall and the small,

Would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing.

They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the oiks would start singing!

They'd sing! And they'd sing!

AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!

And when George thought of the disgust the penniless bring

The more the shit thought, "I must stop this whole thing!

"Why for forty-some years I've put up with it now!

I MUST stop Christmas from coming!

...But HOW?"

Then he got an idea!

An awful idea!

THE CHANCELLOR

GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!" The toff laughed in his throat.

And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.

And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great posh trick!

"I’ll ruin their lives because they make me sick!"

"All I need is a reindeer..."

The twat looked around.

But since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found.

Did that stop the old bastard...?

No! The evil Chancellor said,

"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!"

So he stole Blunkett’s dog. Then he took some red thread

And he tied a big horn on top of his head.

THEN

He loaded some bags

With a huff and a tut

On a ramshakle sleigh

And he hitched up old the mutt.

Then the twat said, "Move it!"

And the sleigh started down

Toward the homes where the oiks

Lay a-snooze in their town.

All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.

All the oiks were all dreaming sweet dreams without care

When he came to the first house in the square.

"This is stop number one," The old fucker hissed

And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.

Then he slid down the chimney. It proved to be tight.

But he was determined to spread misery and blight.

He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.

Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue

Where the little oik stockings all hung in a row.

"These stockings," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"

Then he slithered and slunk, with a sneer most unpleasant,

Around the whole room, and he took every present!

Pokémon cards and a PSOne game!

Second-hand shit he stole without shame!

And he stuffed them in bags in a Christmassy farce,

Stuffed all the bags, the upper-class arse!

Then he slunk to the fridge. He took the oiks’ food!

Fish fingers and nuggets, how terribly rude!

He cleaned out that fridge as quick as a flash.

He didn’t want it or need it because of his cash!

Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.

"And NOW!" grinned the Chancellor, "I will stuff up the tree!"

And George grabbed the tree, and he started to shove

When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

He turned around fast, and he saw a small brat!

A guttersnipe child in a Santy Claus hat.

George had been caught by this little oik child

And wondered if the police had been dialled.

She stared at the toff and said, "Santy Claus, why,

"Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?"

But George did a thing he was good at, though sick,

He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!

"Why, my sweet little tot," the fake Santy Claus lied,

"There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.

"So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.

"I'll fix it up there. Then I'll bring it back here."

And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head

And he got her a drink and he sent her to bed.

And when the oik child went to bed with her cup,

HE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up!

Then the last thing he took

Was the log for their fire.

Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar.

On their walls he left nothing but hooks, and some wire.

And the one speck of food

That he left in the house

Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.

Then

He did the same thing

To the other oiks' houses

Leaving crumbs

Much too small

For the other Oiks' mouses!

It was quarter past dawn...

All the oiks, still a-bed

All the oiks, still a-snooze

When he packed up his sled,

Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings!

The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!

He returned to his mansion, guffawing with glee!

“There’s no-one more evil or despicable than me!

"Fuck all the plebs!" he was poshly humming.

"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!

"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two

"They’ll weep at the theft and they’ll never know who!"

"That's a noise," grinned the cunt,

"That I simply must hear!"

So he paused. And Osborne put a hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.

It started in low. Then it started to grow...

It was the sound of a riot! The sound of looting!

The cost of the damage he was already computing!

He’d raise all their taxes! Then there was shooting!

He watched on the telly

The rioting folk!

Campaigning against Tories!

It wasn’t a joke!

Old London town burned, the houses, the slums,

The result of the folly of his banking chums!

More people were homeless, more shops were aflame!

He just didn’t care that he was to blame!

He sat in his armchair, drank his Bucks Fizz,

More jobs were now lost, but at least he had his!

He looked in his bags, and laughed at the fun,

The oiks’ horrid gifts, each and every one

Were lining the bottom, each worthless and shite!

A Gameboy Advance and a Mighty Max kite!

An Evel Knievel jigsaw! A Rainbow Brite!

The poor people’s presents were poor and dire,

Ugly and cheap and ripe for a pyre!

George threw them all on the fire!

Tucked up in bed, no tossing or turning,

George had the cash to never have yearning,

But now his old mansion was noisily burning!

The oiks had all gathered plenty of kindling

Placed ‘round his house, their patience was dwindling!

Sick of the poverty and having no money

And sick of old Osborne finding that funny!

His house now in flames and burning up fast,

Old Georgie was getting his comeuppance at last!

Everyone gathered with cocoa and beer!

And whisky! And rum! Such Christmas cheer!

The crowd grew and grew! It stretched back a mile!

Each of the people had a huge Christmas smile!

They chuckled with glee and couldn’t pretend

To be a-full of mirth that George had come to an end!

It’s a grim little story, but any excuse

To fuck around with Dr Seuss

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Advent Calendar Day 24

It's Christmas Eve! As ever, the advent calendar, which should end on day 24, has an extra one for the big day tomorrow. In the meantime, day 24 could only be one thing...

Day 24

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

 Broken

Britain.

With so much wrong in the world, we're in serious trouble because of a small number of greedy bastards, and their mates are in government. Corruption seeps from every pore of this sick land, and we've reached breaking point. The riots and looting from earlier this year are just the tip of the iceberg, the phone hacking scandal has yet to claim any scalps (Brooks and Murdoch remain unimprisoned, for example), television is falling prey to dumbed-down reality shows, end-of-the-pier talent shows hosted by people without any talent, dreadful comedians polluting the schedules with their safe light entertainment boredom, our prime minister has isolated us even further from the rest of Europe and the world economy is in tatters.

Still, it's Christmas, eh? Let's forget about the terror and the middling disappointment for a few days and enjoy time with our loved ones, get merry and enjoy Doctor Who on the telly.

Be back tomorrow for the annual Christmas story!

Advent Calendar Day 23

Nearly there...

Day 23

The Daily Mail

Hateful, spiteful, racist, bigoted, slandering, scaremongering little rag; how much simper life would be if you and your stable of right-wing daemons were blasted into a high orbit. From the nasty Paul Dacre to the twisted Melanie Phillips, there's nothing nice of note about this Tory pamphlet. It drips venom, oozes bitterness, and hates the poor, disenfranchised, disabled and foreign. It's frightening that it has sustained its readership (millions of deluded souls being spoon-fed scaremongering and hatred); I wouldn't even eat my chips out of it, lest they turned Nazi.

Advent Calendar Day 22

Hello. Let's bang on, shall we?

Day 22

George Osborne

Another returnee to the advent calendar, sneering multi-millionaire Ebenezer Osborne continues to appease business sponsors of the Conservative Party whilst ripping the world of the common man apart. I don't think I've ever wanted to smack a Chancellor of the Exchequer and Privy Counsellor in the face with something sharp so much. And. we had Norman Lamont, lest we forget. Horrible, horrible man. It beggars belief that he's only fucking 40.

We haven't heard the last of him this Yuletide, by the way...

Advent Calendar Day 21

Hey.

Day 21

This.

Please. Please stop. Your house looks like some kind of whore.

Advent Calendar Day 20

'Sup. All sorted for Xmas yet? Well, not quite, because we've still got the chaff of the calendar to get through. Buckle up, and try not to weep blood.

Day 20

Impressions, Impressionists and

The Impressions Show

Ugh. Y'know, this is a lost art form. It used to be an entertaining little party trick back in 'the day', from the proto-satire-tinged-with-light-entertainment-for-the-grannies of Mike Yarwood to the (ahem) "rubber-faced lampoonery" (sigh) of Spitting Image; Chris Barrie dazzled with his off-the-cuff David Coleman, Ronald Reagan and more when not appearing on Red Dwarf or Spitting Image, Steve Nallon was brilliant during the Thatcher-drag era, even Rory Bremner's old BBC2 show wasn't too bad. However, time rolled on (as it does), Bremner moved to Channel 4 and turned into a bore, churning out the same tired old impressions of politicians, loosely wrapped around po-faced satire. Spitting Image died a natural death, and that bloke from the Gino Ginelli advert ventured into the mainstream along with Lee & Herring radio stalwart Ronni Ancona... and that's where it all started to go wrong. I don't dislike them at all, but the writing was on the wall as soon as they started doing the Beckhams. It was no longer a sharpened tool for satire, but had instead become the twat hammer of simple folk, tabloid readers, Heat subscribers and knuckle-draggers.

Dead Ringers managed to claw back some dignity to some degree, if only for Jon Culshaw's wonderful Tom Baker impression (which, as he demonstrated on a programme I forget, he could adapt from an equally brilliant Patrick Stewart) and the regular forays in 'classic' Doctor Who territory. But, the programme also had Jan "Hello I'm" Ravens. Every, and I mean every, impression she provided began with her introducing who she was supposed to be (probably because none of them looked or sounded like the target); very poor, very patronising. If you have to smack your audience in the face with a big obvious fucking clue as to who you're portraying, you're in the wrong bloody job.

Now we've got The Impressions Show, where the same format as Alistair McGowan's old show claws its way back out of the dirt. Depressingly, I've lost all respect for Jon Culshaw. I hate losing respect for people. I genuinely, genuinely like the guy, but when you start applying the phrase, "well, everyone has to eat, I suppose" to a TV programme, you haven't got much of a choice (a bit like those bloody Direct Line adverts I mentioned a couple of weeks back). It's all tabloid fodder again, television so safe it's got rounded corners and is covered in bubble wrap. And, you know, he's not even that good in it. Professor Brian Cox sounds nothing like Professor Brian Cox (the odd attempt at an accent and inflection aside), and, most disappointingly, he also attempts Pip Schofield. Whilst introducing himself. Because he looks and sounds nothing like him. Tch.

Tellingly, they also do The One Show. Badly. Lowest common denominator peas-in-a-pod fodder, a match made in feeble hell. Perhaps one day, we'll reclaim the lost noble art of impressionism from the stupid people who'll put up with anything, but somehow, due to the unique way the BBC ignore petitions and appease idiots, I doubt it. Bah.

Advent Calendar Day 19

Hi.

Day 19

Tim Lovejoy

No, not that Lovejoy. Not even that Lovejoy (though I'm sure he also has a little Tinker).

Smug football bore Tim has been stuck in a midlife crisis since he first mediocred onto our screens sometime, ooh, years ago. The drab 57 year old, after an aeon hosting some football programme or other (and therefore off my radar), counted his lucky stars in a droning mumble the day the BBC shoved him up their Sunday morning what-the-fuck-was-I-drinking-last-night hangover snake oil, Something For The Weekend, where he channels Alan Partridge alongside Kojak the chef and the one who was fired from Eternal. His presenting style is able to remove the lustre from coal.

So what next for the world's most boring man? Who knows, but whatever it is, it'll involve him sounding like the teacher in Peanuts with the word "Chelsea" creeping in every now and again. The dull cunt.

Back tomorrow!

Shit Britons 2011 Part 2

Hello! Time for part 2 of the result of Shit Britons 2011, where we catch up with the David Cameron/Skeletor Coaltion (of Doom), where cracks are starting to show.

Final part next week (just in time for Xmas).

Advent Calendar Day 18

One week from now, we'll be recovering from a long, arduous lesson in pain and misery. But enough about the EastEnders Christmas episode, we've got some pesky windows to open in the meantime...

Day 18

The Coalition

Remember May 2010? Everything seemed so simple then. In those mildly sepia-toned days, we had a Prime Minister who we didn't vote in, but at least was leader of the party who did earn the most votes in the previous election. We somehow traded the world's most dour man for Blue Clone and Yellow Clone, the right wing Thatcher acolyte and his supposedly Liberal comrade-in-arms-for-the-sake-of-a-snifter-of-power. Unfortunately, there's no effectual opposition to speak of at the moment, except from within,so until they tear themselves apart, we're stuck with the oppressive fuckers.

Just watching George Osborne's face achieve a new level of sneering contempt every day is enough to make Care Bears weep in forcibly-impoverished terror whilst they appease their banking cohorts. This is a government who have their business sponsors' best interests, and their own, at heart, desperately clinging onto the power that nobody blessed them with except through the failings of our  supposed democracy.

So while we wait for the arse to fall out of the Big Society (and other meaningless buzzwords dreamt up by Porky Mumpsface's right-wing think tank), pull up a chair and watch not one, but two opportunistic political parties tear themselves asunder, whilst a third decides to get its fucking act together and actually oppose. 

Incidentally, be back a little bit later this evening for the second part of Shit Britons 2011's special He-Man episode...

Advent Calendar Day 17

One week until Xmas Eve, folks. Let's bang on with the final week of the Dystopian Advent Calendar, eh?

Day 17

Rupert Murdoch

Something, something, something, Dark Side...

Something, something, something, complete.

What can I say that you aren't already thinking or have thought? I was thinking about replacing his face with that of Old Man Potter from It's A Wonderful Life, but that would've been too fucking obscure (though seasonal, I suppose). Suffice to say, this year has finally seen some major damage to his evil empire, with News of the Screws forcibly going under, a complete Sky takeover being blocked, and some attention-hungry comedian you've never heard of hitting him in the face with a pie. Fingers crossed, this time next year something devastating will happen to Fox News, The Sun and the Murdoch family's ill-gotten fortune.

Vile.

Oh, be back tomorrow for the continuing adventures of David Cameron and Skeletor in the second part of the Shit Britons 2011 special He-Man episode, Coalition of Doom!

Advent Calendar Day16

Hello!

Day 16

Ed Miliband

Sorry if you're reading this late. I've had a problem with Blogger in the past 24 hours where it erased this very post I'm retyping, and wouldn't let me do anything at all. Bah.

Anyway, why Ed? I don't dislike the guy, but my god is Labour in the doldrums under him. Imagine being outwitted and ridiculed by David fucking Cameron in PMQs. Especially in today's oppressive twin-headed government of terror, we deserve a competent, aggressive opposition. This man isn't it. Admittedly, under the caretaker gloom of Brown's mishandled tenure, it was always going to be difficult to get their groove back, claw back some dignity and desire to get back into government with a clean slate. Voting this pilchard in as leader was not the best way of going about it. I'm sure he's a competent politician, but he has the charisma and wit of a PE teacher. I hate to say it, but Ed Balls would have provided stronger opposition (though he now doesn't want the job).

I guess we'll have to wait for the coalition to tear themselves apart to get a bit of oomph back into the Labour leader so he can kickstart his momentum a tad.

Hmph. How depressing, eh?

Advent Calendar Day Fifteen

Hello? What's this? I smell someone familiar.

Day Fifteen

Russell Howard

'Aaaarroooooold! Yep, the person I had the most feedback about from anonymous trolls on last year's Dystopian Advent Calendar is stinking up this year's. Nothing's changed; he's still an over-rated, unfunny, puerile blight on the TV schedules, a conduit for his team of writers and researchers' inane theft of other people's work on YouTube. The format of his show follows this pattern:

"Did you see [person X] on [TV programme Y] the other night?"

[Insert short clip taken out of context]

[Smug grin at camera]

[Audience piss themselves]

[Joke about wanking monkeys in a stupid voice]

[Or cocks]

Television comedy is in a very poor state of affairs right now; despite a vicious right-wing government in power (though how long that will last is another matter), satire's a bit thin on the ground. Channel 4's 10 O'Clock Live was tarnished by whatsherface from Kenickie, for example. Howard's presence on TV is not helping matters, dumbing humour down to anaemic levels.

Oh, and he came third in this year's Shit Britons (applauds). If you missed it, here's the propaganda video I made to bump his votes up:

Please sod off, Mr Howard.

You dirty old man.

Advent Calendar Day 14

... And we're back.

Day Fourteen

Zai Bennett

So who's this odd-looking little weasel, then? He's the controller of BBC Three (as of December 2010). His career has been a laughable stroll through some of the UK's worst idiot fare, from Channel 5, and most of the past decade controlling programming across ITV's digital channels. Hardly fucking world-beating.

Since being employed by the BBC, he's starting ripping the channel apart. Okay, so he may have axed Two Pints of Lager and Coming of Age, but he's also recently axed Ideal, which was deservedly building on its viewer base with every series, and, controversially, some may say criminally, Doctor Who Confidential. The latter act from the pudding-faced executive sparked an online petition, currently standing at just under 56,000 signatures. Bennett's response, whilst dreaming up new brainless fodder to replace it with aimed at thick people, was that he wanted to clear the way for original British content. Which Doctor Who Confidential was. The BBC Trust is to make a final decision in the new year, but no doubt they'll uphold the decision and stand idly by as Bennett floods what's left of the channel with tabloid shite.

In the meantime, one of his latest decisions is to commission a new sitcom written by and starring unshaven toff unfunnyman Jack "Advent Day One" Whitehall. Oh, and he's also guaranteed Russell Howard's Ego Vehicle to run until at least 2013. The man must be stopped before he drags BBC Three down to the levels of ITV2 and beyond. The channel could be, no, should be great. I fear that under this man, it will be anything but.

Before we move on, I must share with you his Wikipedia entry (as it currently reads):

Zai Bennett

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Zai Bennett is Controller of BBC Three.^[1]

Career

Zai Bennett started his career in 1995 in the post room at Carlton Television, then worked as presentation scheduler

for the launch of Channel 5 in 1997. He worked for ITV from 1998 in a number of roles including Head of Programme

Strategy, ITV Digital Channels and ITV2 Programming and Acquisitions Manager. He was Controller of ITV2 from

2006 – 2009. In April 2010 he was appointed ITV's Director of Digital Channels and Acquisitions, where he was

responsible for overseeing editorial content on ITV's digital channels (ITV2, ITV3, ITV4 and the CITV channel), including

all commissioning and scheduling across the channels. In December 2010 the BBC announced that he is to become

Controller of BBC Three in 2011. After settling into this position he commenced cancelling every good comedy and

ruining BBC 3. ^{[2] [3] [4]}

Sometimes, people are wonderful.