Posts Tagged ‘TV’

Dear Fanny,

My husband has taken to eating his own toe-nails and belly button fluff. When I finally discovered his dirty little secret and confronted him, he confessed that this had been going on ever since I discovered the diet book ” Ooh, you are offal, but I like you” by Seamus McButter.

I feel betrayed! Little did I know that he’d been giving his tripe porridge, testicle broth and roast pig’s spleen to the dog. No wonder it looks so pleased with itself.

Please help!

Doris, Suffolk.


Dear Doris.

What an ungrateful fool he is! He would need to eat the entire toe-nail clippage of the population of Wales to get the equivalent calcium content of a fried kidney.

Incidently, during my recent appearance on “I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here” I tried a Possum’s penis for the first time. And delicious it was! One of the presenters Ant or Dec, thought it rather hilarious.

So my dear may I encourage you to continue with your offal only diet by sending this marvellous French classic recipe of Devilled Kidneys on toast.


6 lambs kidneys (trimmed)

A large knob of butter

A spoon of plain flour mixed with a large pinch of paprika and a smidgeon of salt.

2 spoons of crème fraiche

1 spoon of Dijon mustard

A few drops of Worcestershire sauce


Coat the kidneys in the flour mixture. Melt the butter in a non stick pan and fry the kidneys for 2-3 minutes each side. Add a splash of W’shire sauce, the Dijon mustard and the crème fraiche.

Pile the kidneys onto hot buttered toast and serve with a large glass of Chianti. Et voila.

A cheap, nutritious, tasty meal for all the family, including the dog, to enjoy!


Le Fannoir!

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“All the world’s a fence.”

Like doubts, we all have them or know someone who has them. Fences that is.

What does your Fence say about you?  Secondary Picket? Loosely Hinged? A Godfather? Weak Footings?

Who knows? Who cares! 

This month wonderful actor Benedict “Benny” Cumberbatch has shared his lovely little Closed Border Fence with us. We now know where he got his inspiration for photo bombing Bono and his pals at the Oscars!

Bono in a box

Bono in a box

All I want to say is

Bono in a box

cumberbnatch 2

Boo Bono!

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He didn't do well

He didn’t do well

Not that long ago, us Brits prided ourselves won being different. Original, you might say. We have original artists, poets and writers and great writers of popular music and innovative TV programmes, especially ground breaking comedy.

Known to the Americans as ‘Monnie Paethaaaan’.

 There was a time when ex-RAF fighter pilots would stroll into the office of the BBC’s Director of Comedy and say, “Morning Old Boy. I say, I’ve this terrific idea for a sit-com etc; etc;” and were told to “Go orf and put together a couple of pilot shows ( no RAF pun intended) and we’ll take it from there, arf arf”.

Like a good wine, a comedy series developed. Invariably the first series was a ‘suck it and see’ affair and probably not a huge hit with the public but the characters and writing developed in later series, producing blockbuster comedy such as the aforementioned Python, Dad’s Army, The Good Life and even The Fast Show which was, I believe, a slow starter.

In 2011 Paul Whitehouse and Charlie Higson had a swipe at the BBC’s policy regarding follow up series after the Corporation turned down their proposal for a second series of ‘Bellamy’s People’ on the basis that the first series did not pull in enough viewers. They argued, quite rightly, that this was normal for a new series.

So what do they now have to replace these little gems of innovation and comedy genius?

I’ll tell you what!

‘Celebrity Pie Throwing’, ‘Celebrity Dog Grooming’, ‘Celebrity Brain Surgery’, ‘Celebrity Bull Fighting’ (if only).

As the great Jim Royle would say,”Celebrities my arse”.

Look up ‘Celebrity’ in the dictionary and it will advise the following ‘Celebrity : A famous or well known person’.

So who are these fake tanned, Botox riddled, brain dead arseholes onto whom the epithet ‘Celebrity’ is bestowed?

Is there nothing these sad bastards won’t do to revive what was once a lack of talent teetering on the brink of a career? From munching live insects ” Oh my Gaaad, oh my Gaaad” to throwing themselves off ski slopes slightly higher than my front doorstep – “AAAAGGGHHH, Shiiiiiit” ……..and that’s just the viewers’ reaction!

There was a time when, if the BBC came up with a ground breaking idea for a programme that blew the viewing figures out of the water, ITV would say ” We’ll have to come up with something better.”

Not any more.

Take the hugely successful ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ on the BBC.

Do the ITV say “It’s a fair cop, we didn’t see that one coming, we’ll put our heads together and come up with something to counteract this success, a completely different genre;  ground breaking comedy perhaps? An award winning drama series? Animals fornicating in a moonlit jungle just as you’re sitting down to your evening meal?”

Not a bit of it.

What inspired, creative, original idea do they come up with?

“Stepping Out”………..”Stepping fucking Out”!

One can only imagine the Think Tank Brainstorming that formed this little nugget.

“Right, OK guys, I’ll like make this quick. We need like to eclipse ‘Strictly’. We all have like Media Degrees. Should be a piece of piss. Any ideas out there?”

“Well Simon, as I see it, like breaking it down into like it’s constituent parts, we have like two people and dancing.”

“And a band.”

“Yes Freddie and a band”.

“So we have like a celebrity and a dancing teacher like dancing to a band”.

“OK guys, here’s the plan. The concept. Dancing. Two people, dancing. But like here’s the really clever bit guys, the two people like know each other, they’re like, you know, husband and wife or two people who met at school and have like kissed each other or something, pfffff”.

“That’s like really cool. What’s the title?”

“How about like, ‘ Strictly Come Dancing But With Two People Who Know Each Other Like’?”

Cut to three weeks later…. “Strapping Up?”

“No – bonding insinuation”.

“Stopping Up?”

“Bit anal”.

“Schlepping Up?”

“Too Jewish”.

“Stepping Out?”

“Bang on Toby, good man”.

“Right, all we want now is like a presenter”.


” He’s already taken Robin”.

“Davina McCall?”

” Fuck it, they’ll never notice the difference”.

“Brilliant guys, job done”.

” Anyone fancy a pint?”

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I was thinking of having my prostrate tattooed with a scene from that marvellously wholesome TV series The Little House On The Prairie. Do you think this is a good idea?

Village Idiot, The Village

Oily Replies;

Hello Village Idiot,

Excellent idea! When I was a young man in the Navy, sailing the Seven Seas, I was fascinated by The Waltons and got one of my buttocks with John Boy the other buttock with One of the Other Ones.

To this day I have a little party trick I do where I bend over and re-enact the ‘Night John Boy’ scene.  And I haven’t a clue what cheeky ol’ Granpa Walton is getting up to in the wood cutting shed!

Admittedly its best if everybody who witnesses it is uproariously drunk and/or blind at the time otherwise it can be waaaay too disturbing and will live with you forever.

Nighty Night


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Yesterday Kristy Arseslap told you of the plight of Bingo and India and their attempts to land a pile in London. (You can read their heart rending tale here).

We were swamped by requests to find out how their home search was going. So, Mike Crawshaw caught up with them.

” Last year we tried to help Bingo and India, a couple of upper class tossers from Surrey, find a property in Central London. They had more money than sense to spend on their ideal property but unfortunately this would not stretch to the property at the end of The Mall that India fell in love with. When we left them, India was convinced that she could oust the existing tenants with an offer they could not refuse. We’ll let India take up the story….

‘I walked round the outside to see if there was stables and a paddock but I couldn’t see anything except an old man with great big ears. He appeared to be watering the plants.

He looked up and our eyes met. There was something about him that was rather attractive.


I felt we had met before. He wandered over.

‘Hello, may I help you?’

‘Yes, I was rather admiring your house’

‘My wife tells me It has been in the family rather a long time, what is your name my dear’

‘ India’

“What a coincidence! my great-great grandmother was Empress.”

‘I’d do anything to live in this house’


‘Oh yes’

‘What I have in mind may give you a bladder infection.’

‘That’s alright, I don’t know anything about flowers. Have you got a pony?”

An improved offer was turned down when his wife caught him with no trousers.

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With house prices rises and the attendant debt fuelled boom (where have we heard that before?) beginning to infect our lives again – we are also subjected to the evil that are TV property programmes.

Is Britain the only country in the World who’s programme schedules are infested with programmes such as “Location, Location, Location?” or as Mike Crawshaw reimagines the programme with its fantabulous host and “expert” Kristy Asslop.

Kristy Asslop – She Understands Our Needs


 “Welcome to this week’s Located, Located, Located!Bingo and India are a couple of spoilt little bastards from Surrey who are searching for property in Maida Vale or Richmond, way beyond their price range. They have a deposit of £1,000,000, scraped together by Bingo’s parents, Herry and Celia, after a quick look down the back of the living room sofa.

Hopefully this will prove to be enough to get rid of their tiresome loin fruit and his vapid fiancée who have been plaguing their parental pile since Bingo and India met during a Tofu Punting Party at Cambridge.

They have a budget large enough to pay off the National Debt of Bolivia but still can’t find anything they both like. Bingo wants to be a short tube ride to his job as a back-stabbing chancer in the City whilst India wants to be near her friends, who rather irritatingly, keep moving.

They would both like a party pad with the ‘wow’ factor but there must be somewhere to keep a pony.

Bingo would like to be near a park where he can hide in the bushes to deal with his insecurities. India wants to be near her pony.

Also on Bingo’s tick-list is a basement room where he can go through back copies of ‘Health & Efficiency’ with his Eton chums, Bovril, Toby and Crichton and discuss why, in real life, women have hair and not a smudge?

India wants a pony.

The properties we have shown them so far have not been up to expectation.

India was rather taken with a large, detached, white building with bags of potential at the end of The Mall but we had to point that the little old lady waving on the balcony, was a sitting tenant but we did agree that it was ‘a lovely place to keep a pony’.

Will the old girl move for Bingo and India?


 In desperation we showed them a couple of properties in the ‘up and coming’ areas where they would get so much more for their money but as Bingo said there were far too many poor people and India didn’t see one person on a pony.

We were making headway on a property near Abbey Road but this was rejected when they found that the kitchen had no ‘en-suite bathroom’ or stable.

It was at this point that Bingo took me to one side to thank me for all my effort and to say that unfortunately India had her heart set on the detached house in the Mall and if we would be so good as to drop them orf on the way back they felt sure they could bribe the old woman to leave.

We dropped them off at Brick Lane and wished them well. The wankers.”

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I was round Mum’s yesterday afternoon to put some new batteries in her TV remote control. I’m a dab hand at DIY you see.

After trying for twenty minutes to get the cover off,  I told Mum that this was a bigger job than appeared. I needed to ponder my strategy whilst completing a movement.

On the pot I read my horoscope in the paper. With Venus in the ascendant and Neptune on a bender (or some such, I’ve never really understood Gastrology to be honest).

The horoscope told me to; “Be wary of undertaking complex tasks but prepare for a romantic encounter.”

That knocked the battery change on the head.

After I’d eaten the bacon rolls Mum had made, I nipped home to watch the film my mate Pete the Slip had given me down The Reclusive Monkey on Saturday.

Shirley had gone to the Bingo so I had a couple of hours to kill before she got home to cook my tea. Lovemeat Sandwich had some very good camera work. And the script was very challenging.

Shirley came home early after being chucked out of the Bingo for glassing the caller. She found me in a compromising position on the leather cornerpiece. She didn’t believe me when I told her that I was just airing my rash.

I had to cook my own fish fingers for tea.

Horoscopes. Spooky. End of.

Be Lucky


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