Come Dine With Me

I love it. Not just of the overall concept of the show but for the narration from Dave Lamb. As you know, i'm not a big fan of sarcasm as it's the lowest form of wit, so they say, but hey! Anyway... it got me thinking about hosting my own 'Celebrity Come Dine With Me' and who'd be the lucky souls to get the covetted golden invitations.

Now, apart from the grub, what's needed at a successful dinner party are a broad spectrum of guests. Firstly, you need someone who's very funny and can tell good jokes [so that's my role sorted out then, heheheheh]. Guest No.1 would have to be Pineapple Dance Studio's very own Louie Spence. He's like sunshine on a stick, nearly as flamboyant as moi and probably has bum cheeks just as firm ... ahem ??!!





Guest No2 would be Iranian comic Shappi Khorsandi. There's nothing more attractive than a strong, intelligent, confident, empowered, well-cultured woman ... plus she has a grrreat rack.



Guest number 3 would be someone like Lindsay Lohan. An out of control, coked-up [allegedly] Hollywood starlet would mean great entertainment and be able to regale us with tales of glitz, glamour and other dubious excesses. Plus, she'd be a real boon in the kitchen. It would save me the job of doing the washing up as Lindsay is more than qualified to lick the plates clean!!

Ba-dum-tishh

The road to nowhere ???

As something of an intelectual, i was reading an article in the local rag the other day regarding the ever increasing amount of traffic on our roads. Local 'experts' [i use the word 'expert' in the loosest sense of the word] were trotting out the usual bilge about cutting traffic by using car-share schemes and congestion charges. ie; pricing people off the roads.

Well maybe if public transport was up to muster, you know, reliable, clean and didn't cost an arm and a leg to use then people might start leaving their cars at home. Speaking personally, i never use public transport. It's cheaper for me to run a car, plus i don't have to put up sitting next to some smelly chav who has both hands jammed down the front of his trackie bottoms!!

Anyway..... as an intellectuall, this got me thinking of the best ways to reduce traffic, and i think i've got the solution. Just by banning all women off the roads will reduce congestion by over 50%, easy. Lets face it, most women don't even need a car in day to day life. Popping down to the shops to get something nice for hubby's tea does not require the use of a car.

Now, a tiny minority of bra burning feminists might say i'm being a tad sexist but in their heart of hearts they'll know i'm correct [a man always is]. And lets be honest about it, most women struggle to safely navigate a shopping trolley around Tesco's so driving a motor vehicle on the open highway simply doesn't bare thinking about!!

Nowt daft as folk

This has to be the best election we've had for decades.

Okay, when i say the best i probably mean the funniest. Peter 'Mandy' Mandelson giving scathingly dirty looks [off-camera] to journalists. The porn widow [Jaqui Smith] and Lembit Opic getting their P45's. To be fair i didn't mind Lembit too much as anyone that can put up with a Cheeky Girl singing in the shower must have balls of steel. Then there's poor Gordon Broon calling that old woman a bigot.. hhaahhah.

They were all funny, but what was funnier were the prize muppets who were told they couldn't vote because they 'rocked-up' at the Polling Stations during last orders then proceeded to throw their toys out t' pram. People had 15 hours to call in and cast their vote. What were they doing all day? looking for a clock? or maybe a brain cell?

I've never had any problems voting, just wandered in .... and wandered out again, simples yes? Now i'm all for democracy, but maybe it's better for everybody concerned if people born that stupid are made exempt from voting.

Politicians.... what a joke

While walking down the street one day an MP is hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in Heaven and is met by St Peter at the entrance. "Welcome to heaven," says St Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we‘re not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in," says the MP.

"Well, I‘d like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"Really, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," says the MP.

"I’m sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him. Everyone is very happy and in evening dress.


They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.

Also present is the Devil, who really is a very friendly, nice bloke who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They're having such a good time that before he realises it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises….


The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St Peter is waiting for him. "Now it’s time to visit Heaven." So, 24 hours pass with the MP joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realises it, the 24 hours have gone by and St Peter returns.

"Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity." The MP reflects for a minute, then he answers, "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell."

So St Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He see's all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the rubbish and putting it in black bags as more and more rubbish falls from above.

The Devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don’t understand," stammers the MP, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of rubbish and my friends look miserable. What happened?"

The Devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning…..today you voted."