Posts Tagged ‘Winner’

Big Brother 8: Live Final

August 30, 2007

BB House 

I’m going on holiday early on Friday morning, so fortunately I’ll not feel the shit-magnet force that is the Big Brother LIVE Final.

Yes – that’s right – LIVE. You get to catch every last tooth-grinding second AS IT HAPPENS. Gasp as Davina fluffs her lines and gurns at her own jokes. Nod in an amused fashion as Ziggy tells us how he’s actually a ‘preddy reasonable kinda guy’ and fall over as Brian pretends he’s thick.

If you’re foolish enough to waste your money on a vote for the winner, please bear the following in mind:

1.) Brian is a charlatan.

I presume Brian’s been to school for at least one English lesson per school year of his life. As a result, he must have heard of William Shakespeare. The entire syllabus of the English GCSE is distorted and warped so that Shakespeare is taken into account, term after endless term. Schools are always putting on productions of Shakespeare plays. A schoolboy can’t get through life without knowing who Shakespeare is. That means Brian’s a sneaky, lying sod.

2.) Imagine what the twins will spend £100k on.

It will be wasted in New Look on every single tiny item of tat that comes in pink. It’s a wasted vote to vote for the twins, so resist. Besides, what did they contribute besides falling over occasionally? They were basically just dumbells for that twat-lunk Liam to lift.

3.) Liam is an abominable twat.

Don’t give the money to Liam. He’s Sid the Sexist without the gut. He doesn’t deserve anything beyond complete ignorance.

4.) Ziggy is a self parody.

Cliff Richard mutated in a microwave face-off with Christian Bale and the lion-man off Beauty and the Beast, he looks like his face is made of play-doh. Lashing out every five days, he’ll spend the remaining time apologising and trying to prove how swell he is, which he isn’t. More annoyingly, if he sees something that he thinks the public will probably find amusing, he says ‘that’s very funny’ without any hint on his face that he is at least partially amused. Transparently trying to make out he’s in on every gag, popular with everyone and with a weak apology for any harsh words, he became dull very early on.

5.) Carole is irritating.

Imagine living with that monster. She may be a Commie in her politics, but she’s a Nazi in the kitchen. Only your actual Mum has any right to order you about the shop like that. She seemed to think that the minute she stepped foot in there she was halfway into a mortgage on the gaudy bungalow meaning she could tell everyone else what to do. Plus, her food looked shit.

This only leaves Jonty, the bizarre middle aged man with the Alain De Botton hairdo and the collection of national flag t-shirts. At first I thought his walking round with teddies would be tiresome, but he constantly farts which makes up for it. Let’s face it, farting is amusing.

Jonty should win on the strength of the fact that he always has a tommy squeak in the tank should there be a lull in the conversation. He also got his unimpressive member out for no reason, walking around bollock-naked whilst completely oblivious to the fact this might disturb other housemates. And whilst naked and in company, he farted. That alone deserves 100 big ones.

If you’re going to vote, I recommend you vote for the weird, pot-bellied, bespectacled, hairy, mentally-undeveloped, flatulent, naturist.

Calm Down Dear, I’m Clearly Terminal

January 29, 2007

Michael Winner
According to the lazy researcher’s resource, Wikipedia, between 1961 and 1962 Michael Winner directed four films, three of which were called ‘Some like it Cool’, ‘The Cool Mikado’ and ‘Play it Cool’

This, to me, sums up the early makings of a tit.

Apart from being unable to make a single decent film, despite having some of the best acting talent at his porcine disposal, this overpaid gitprong due to his ‘flair’ for self publicity managed to ingratiate himself into the hearts of the British public for being a bit of a womanising bon viveur. How the fuck this came to be I’ve no idea. He’s a fat useless cunt at best, at worse he an irresponsible corpulent sell-out, who’d fuck his own mother for 10p. Winners Dinners

So, moving on, his glittering career arguably ‘peaked’ when the crimson faced porker signed up with an insurance company, not just any insurance company, no, the sort that advertise in between Home and Away and Crown Court. Due mainly to the dope addled media students enjoying a 3-year ‘study period’ these adverts for Esure managed to gain somewhat of a cult status, the immortal ‘calm down dear it’s just a commercial’ uttered flarelessly day in a day out acted as some sort of quasi-religious chant to the vulnerable pond-lives happening to be watching daytime TV, which in tern permeated into the public consciousness.

Following a brief (albeit merciful) hiatus these adverts are now back on our screens, but something has gone terribly wrong.

Somewhere in between Esures ‘heyday’ and the current crop of commercials, Winner is quite literally half the man he used to be. The fat, red Winner with his booming catchphrase has gone, and been replaced by a pale, wizened little old man, replete with thin reedy voice, looking for all intents and purposes as if he’s one heartbeat from death. In fact he looks so ill that I won’t accept he’s not be held upright by a pole, he can’t even be arsed to say ‘…it’s just a commercial’ anymore, leaving the ‘Calm down dear’ to hang alone in the ghoulish air he now pervades like a pre-tombstone epitaph.

It’s a badly kept secret that the BBC agreed, if it came to it, to allow the late and great Alistair Cooke broadcasting ‘Letter from America’ on Radio 4 to die on air. Let’s hope Esure offer Winner the same gratuity, but only after he utters ‘Calm down dear’ simply because it will be funnier.

Be good if he threw up too. Ironic, even