Disease Diary: Stephacockaliticus week 2

Stephacockaliticus: dark brooding imagery for a right nasty virus

AFTER THE CALL

It has been over a week since the phone call with my sister, Saratoga, in which I informed her that I had contracted Mung’s Disease or Stephacockaliticus as it’s better known. (here)

I was hoping and praying for her support and her understanding - instead she hung up and I haven’t spoken with her, or indeed any of my 14 brothers and sister since.

That’s the trouble with Catholic families, no sense of acceptance, not unless the Pope okay's it first. Well, at least I won’t have to get the bastards anymore birthday prezzies, 14 a year, plus their shitty kids, Jesus, it was killing me.

The phone call left me in a desperate mood. I sat for five days solid in a darkened room.

I barely moved, only feeding myself with ‘quick hit’ foods and sugary pop drinks. Not communicating with the outside world, except the Pizza man, whom I thrust a crumpled tenner at, staring as I did from behind my lank greasy unkempt hair, and my dark sunken yet suprisingly attractive chocolatey-brown eyes.

I just sat, cross legged, watching, impassively.

That was except for the frenetic twiddling of thumbs as I shot hundreds, if not thousands of Iraq infidels, innocent bystanders and the occasional GI. I did this for the entirity of the five days of isolation – that’s the addictive quality of GTA: Mesopotamia for you – read more about that terrific game

Well, it keeps the little 'uns amused, don't it? Yeah?

You may think that playing video games is a waste of time, but let me tell you, when you are infected with Stephacockaliticus, a terminal gum and viral infection, anything that takes your mind off the coming pain, fear and suffering is a welcome relief.

GOVERNMENT WARNINGS

You have probably already heard that this week the Government has launched its nationwide Stephacockaliticus awareness programme.

Well all I can say about that is… bit bloody late for me isn’t it?

You useless bastards.

If I’d have known about it a couple of months ago, I may have taken more precautions when I had that shameful, drunken rut with that skag bag Carol Vorderman (RIP) – that reminds me, I need to get in touch with Fern Cotton, and tell her she needs to get tested.

What added insult to injury, was getting this leaflet in the post this morning.

Gov't Leaflet: Looks a bit like the slab from 2001, ooh ominous.

Not exactly the catchiest of slogans, unlike the one that I got from the local Labour boys for the election, which read,

“The Tories are cunts, do everyone a favour and don’t vote them back in, eh?”

Negative campaigning sure has changed since I was child.

MORNING

As I write this, I am watching a glorious morning sun rising slowly from beyond the hills.

I can’t help feeling when I see such natural majesty that perhaps this illness is part of a wider scheme of things, and that I am just playing a role that is already pre-destined for me.

Then I blow off a really stinky one and dismiss the idea out of hand.

It’s the stress that’s making my arse talk.

My house sits at the base of these hills and it has always concerned me that in the event of an asteroid hitting the Earth's ocean, I wouldn't have enough time to get to the top of The Beacon (the highest hill) before the tidal wave wiped me out.

Don't suppose it matters now.

I’m due to attend my first Stephacockaliticus group meeting this Friday. Can’t say I fancy it much, probably be full of fucking sick bastards.

This illness really will be the death of me.

COMMENTS OF SUPPORT

I’d like to thank you all for your comments of support, but I can't, as so far only Cakesniffer Beware! , Half An Identity and non blogger Trillion, could be ars... have managed to actually do this.

I assume the rest of you have been left too emotionally distraught by my plight to write to me.

GET WRITING BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Triffids - Your questions, answered

Feedback from friendly Angry Chimp, not like other 'arrogant' bloggers

The Flatland Gardener certainly had quiet the healthy mailbag following the little piece on the joys of nurturing that most famous of carnivorous plants, the Triffid. (see original article here)

It seems fitting that I answer your questions in this public forum, because as I always say, good growing is a shared secret, not a grumpy old sod in the shed.

So first out of the pod bay door is edwaado;

I was thinking of crossing my Triffid with a Piranha Plant do you have any tips?

In your experience, are the results kid-friendly?

Well edwaado, that certainly is an interesting combination you are after there. The Triffid, when not ‘docked’ is already a formidable foe, so I am not certain what the added advantage of mixing in the Piranha Plant will be.

The good news however, is neither plant is kid friendly, with I believe the Piranha Plant able to devour a healthy six year old runt in little under 30 seconds. And that includes snotty noses.

Our next question comes from Blighty;

Blighty doesn't have much of a garden so we wonder if it would be possible to plant a Triffid in the top of our wall or in a pot?

Well, your Triffid does get a tad tetchy if pot bound, which is only possible if the soil has a strong mix of concrete in with it.

If you do plant your Triffid on the top of the wall, it will attempt to traverse the entire length of the wall, and surrounding gardens. Triffids are of course, very inquisitive beings. If this acceptable then yes, enjoy.

We have a question here from regular Flatland Gardener reader, Tina.

Do Triffids respond well to breast milk?

Triffids are not typically fussy about the liquids in their diet, although they do tend to turn their stems up at Dr Pepper. (Be warned, feeding a Triffid Sunny Delight will result in hyperactivity, not ideal in a 2.5metre Triffid). As for breast milk, I am certain the Triffid will find this a refreshing treat. I know I always do.

Of course always take the appropriate precautions when feeding, the stem has quite a suck on it and can leave a nasty welt.

Now that looks very nasty. Apple scabbed Triffid = Oh dear.

Further questions from that keen gardener edwaado;

One of my Triffids is suffering from Apple Scab. I've heard that frequently if a disease is obvious it's too late to treat, so I'm not hopeful, but is there anything you can suggest?

I am intrigued as to how your Triffid contracted Apple Scab, which can be quiet nasty. Fortunately, the Triffid has an advanced immune system (the result of generic engineering).

Take your Triffid to your local veterinary surgery, where they will administer a course of anti-biotic. The Apple Scab should clear up in no time at all.

One here from a new comer to our little community, Linsey B;

My Triffids have wilting leaves - they have enough room to roam, plenty of water and a sunny spot - any suggestions on how to treat the wilt? Mr Titchmarsh was of no help; I'm hoping you will do better.

Remember: Enjoy your Triffid, and your Triffid will enjoy you.

Are you giving your Triffid plenty of attention? And I don’t mean just gardening attention, I mean hands on cuddling and playing.

This is a common mistake made by newcomers to Triffid gardening, Triffids are very social plants, and if you are only able to care for one of these magnificent specimens then you will need to keep it entertained, otherwise it will become lonely and depressed.

As regards Mr Titchmarsh, be careful not to over feed your Triffid on a Titchmarsh, they will become bloated on him very quickly, so stick to small chunks often, as opposed to large chunks occasionally.

Maybe even throw one of his arms or legs around and see if you can get your Triffid to chase after it, I am certain that the Triffid will enjoy this enormously.

Our penultimate question is again from edwaado;

How effective have you found mulching? We've tried eggshells, but unfortunately dogs and other creatures tend to eat them. But we've had other successes. One is pumice, which is now coming on the market, it's a lava-type rock used as a mulch. The best thing though, we've found - and I really do rate it as a really good slug control - is pine needles.

There is a terrific chapter on the best course of mulching for these wonderful plants in the Triffid Bible – ‘Day of the Triffids’ by my old green house chum Johnny Wyndham. You may want to see if you can pick up an old copy through Amazon.

Slug control is always very important, and I have found pine needles to be most effective.

Our final question is from one of our transatlantic cousins; Millicent;

I'd love to put one on my neighbour’s (a.k.a. Slag Man) balcony - I don't know that Los Angeles weather would welcome one however. I saw absolutely breathtaking footage of this plant in action in a botany lecture. Amazing.

It is true; Triffids are quite breathtaking when viewed in the wild. I do have a number of contacts in the States who keep Triffids in rude health, despite the proportionately dry and sunny weather.

Obviously, the biggest challenge for a Triffid in Los Angeles will be all the walking it is required to do. Although a healthy Triffid relishes a good old-fashioned hike, a lot of ‘side walking’ can leave the boles rather sore. I have a colleague out in Texas who recently got her Triffid a Segway. Apparently, the Triffid is getting along with it famously.

Transport for the modern 'about town' Triffid

Unfortunately that is all the time we have for Triffids, I hope this has helped, and if you do have any further questions please do go ahead and post your queries below.

Until next time, remember: whether it is down hill, flatland, or uphill gardening, it is all good fun.

POLITICS: Labour pledge to ban old farts to end congestion

Old people are to blame for this HELL!

The Government revealed plans today for how they intend to reduce the amount of traffic on Britain’s roads during peak times, should they be returned to office in May.

At the Labour Party morning press conference, John Prescott, Deputy Prime Minister, suggested that the solution to an impending ‘country wide gridlock, tighter than chinkie-teen fanny’ as he put it, was simple,

“We aim to ban all old people from the roads at rush hour”

When pushed to clarify exactly what this policy would entail Mr Prescott became characteristically agitated,

“Like I just bloody said, all old people off the sodding road when all us lot are trying to get to work. Got that?”

Later, during an interview with Zane Lowe, presenter of Radio 4’s Lunchtime news round up, The World at Lowe, Alan Milburn, official election gofer for Labour explained the plan in more detail.

“Basically we aim to remove approximately 35% of vehicles from the road. So between 7 am to 10.30am in the mornings, and then 3.30pm to 7pm in the evenings, we will restrict people of pension age without a job from driving.”

He said,

“The question you ask yourself is straightforward; why are these old fogies on the road at this time? The answer is they have nothing better to do. The problem however, is they are causing unnecessary congestion, especially when they drive their MX5’s, Porsches and Fiestas at 20 mph, fucking everywhere. When you look at the impact removing these doddering old fools from the roads will have, not just in terms of traffic, but also from a business perspective, well the policy speaks for itself”

Some analysis from our political editor, Ralph Kidson

Labour are expecting this policy to ‘free up’ the majority of UK roads during rush hour, with the knock on effect being an approximate 10 billion pounds a year in new business revenue from a massive increase in commuters getting to work on time.

It is estimated that Britain loses billions every year through lateness to work caused primarily by road congestion.

In addition, the policy will also be extend to all public transport, because as Mr Milburn argues,

“No one wants to sit next to a wrinkled, piss smelling old fart first thing in the morning. This Party firmly believes that it’s not just enough to have full employment in the UK; we want our work force to be happy to go to work. A happy work force is a more product work force”

Said Mr Milburn, before adding,

“And you can’t be happy if in the morning you have to hold your nose and feel depressed because Judge Death is sitting opposite you on the tube, bringing you down, man”.

They remember when it was all fields, and kids had respect

The Tory Party have already hit out at these plans suggesting that Labour are victimising a portion of the population that typically votes Conservative.

Shadow Roads Man, Ollie Letwin, speaking at the opening of a new Donkey Refuge in Stoke, said this about Labours newest election pledge,

“They (The Labour Party) frankly don’t give a fuck about the coffin dodger vote, hence this policy.”

He said, adding,

“They are simply ripping off our own policy, which is to follow the example of Saudi, and ban all woman from driving. There you go…”

He said,

“Problem sorted”.

Alan Titchmarsh of the Greens suggested his Party would go a step further;

“We’d impose a euthanasia tariff at aged 70. That way we could free up some space around the country and turn all the newly stiffed into a nice rich compost, which will let your beds breathe, and should produce some beautiful shoots once we get into the summer. There will be less oldies, but more flowers. Who can argue with that?”

The Liberal Democrats have yet to respond to Labours so-called ‘Grey Road’ pledge. However, a senior source inside the Lib Dem camp, suggests that the Party Leader, Wee Chucky K, is keen to ban all large German cars, including BMW and Audi from UK roads.

The source claims Charlie Boy wants them banned because when he gets in one, his feet never reach the pedals.

“They’re just not made for short arses” the source stated, “And that’s why Chuck’s got the hump over them”.

Ohhh it's getting exciting now - just how much will Labour win by?

Crap animals No 26: The Miniature Dachshund

The Miniature Dachshund - it's a smooth I believe, and a tan at that.

The Dachshund, or Sausage Dog to the proles, is the result of about 6000 years of selective breeding – so it took 6000 years to go from wolf to stupid small freak dog.

That means, if the Nazi’s had had the past 60 old years to tinker with genetics and that, we would still only be at the level of Thom Yorke in terms of a truly fucked up human.

The first out-and-about short-legged Dachshund ‘type’ dog appeared in Europe back in the 16th Century, where they were used by farmers and hunters to go to earth after badgers. (Hence name – Badger Dog)

By the 18th century the Germans decided the standard Dachshund, which was already ridiculously small, was still too big, unable as it was to fit in a gamekeepers back pocket, along with his penknife, bratwurst, keys and fags.

Hence the miniature was born.

And what a truly stooped creature this is.

Right, this is a very straight man with a small dog. Okay?

You just don’t see that many being used as working dogs anymore, and even when they are, it’s not like they’re Border Collies - y'know, useful or anything. Unlike the Miniature Dachshund, the Collie is smart and can be trained to obey, and fetch your Patrick Cox's, just like a small child. (Although you may need to use a stick in the case of the small child)

Dachshunds are known as a ‘lap dogs’, but the fact of the matter is, if one of these little runts started grinding its arse into my groin and tried to charge me 15 quid for the pleasure, I’d be forced to have words with its owner.

What I would like to know is, are there really that many old ladies in the world to look after these things?

Not only are these small doggies the equivalent of a clubbed seal on a lead, they are a hazard. If you ever see one when you are out walking, I suggest crossing over onto the other side of road, because if you get near this little bastard, you are going down. Hard.

What are they for?

Is it just so people can ‘coo’? And you, the owner can gain some twisted form of kudos for having such an odd dog?

Is it because babies have a tendency to grow into spiky haired, arrogant gob-shites, but the mini-dachs retains its look of small, vulnerable, and dare I say, ‘cute’ until their overly long and completely impractical backs give out and you have to refuse to have the shit drive round in a little cart so you have it killed at the vets? Which upsets the kids terribly but works out better for your bank balance and self respect (despite the fact that if you own one of these, your self respect must have already bottomed out)

Darth Dachshund, more machine now than small dog, twisted and evil

They are also one of those animals, which seem to always garner the same response in strangers – once the cooing ends;

“How old is it, is it a puppy?”
“Was it a Doberman that you walked too much?” (Ooh, my sides are splitting)
“What is it? Is it poorly?”
"That could kill my bull terrier/ rottweiller. It'd get caught in my dogs throat as it was being swallowed"

If you want a dog, get a dog! This is like a starter dog, you try it, you move on to the real thing.

Oh, and one last thing, you know that expression, 'A dog is a man's best friend'? - Let me tell you, if some dog is your bezzie mate, you are really in trouble dude.

UPDATE ON No.18 the Giant Panda

In my previous crap animal, I took a balanced look at the Panda and questioned their reluctance to ‘get it on’ and breed in captivity. I had a great ‘anonymous’ comment who suggested that their maybe a more obvious reason for their reticence around the ladies;

“The problem with pandas is that 97.2% of them are gay. Therefore reducing the likelihood of mating activity in the zoo. To create a successful captive breeding program the gay ones need to be whittled out, and straight pandas put in their place. Simple. Except it's hard to tell straight from gay - the panda community like to keep us guessing.”

Obvious really.

Previous crap animals;

No.18 The Giant Panda
No. 47 The Zebra

Singer Dido dies aged 13 ¾.

Dido: England's other rose, gone.

It has been revealed today that singer/ songwriter Dido, was found dead in the early hours of Tuesday morning at her north London flat. She died of a suspected ennui attack.

Dido was aged 13 ¾.

Dido shot to fame in 2002, following a notorious video from ‘controversial’ US rap star Eminem. The video for the song, ‘Look at me, I swear, you melon farmers’, featured a scene in which Dido fellates the bleached rapper before offering a ‘cum swap’ to another up and coming singer song writer, Katie Melua. The tune stormed both the US and UK charts with the video securing Dido recognition with the ‘retard music buying mallrat market’.

Dido released her first single, ‘Sore but worth it’ a month later. It shot to number 1 in the UK charts and featured the lyric, ‘I will go down on that ship’, which was a reference to her career making appearance in the Eminem video.

She would often state that she would do anything for fame, “What else is there?” She remarked when interviewed by Angry Chimp in 2004, “I was poor as a kid, like all the shazzes that buy my CDs, that’s why they love me, because I speak to them, and bring some light and understanding into their pathetic, depressing, pregnant at twelve with a chaz’s baby, utterly pointless existences”.

She had a bit of a fondness for 'charley', video reveals.

Dido, real name Dame Elizabeth Felchingham-Swallows, had been suffering for a number of years with ‘feeling slightly sad when I see people worse off than me’. It’s feared that this condition may have been exacerbated following an altercation with a ‘Homeless’ outside Selfridges London, food court, on Monday evening.

Upon leaving the world famous department store, it is alleged that Guy Morris, a ‘care in the community’ patient, asked Dido for directions to Bond Street Station.

Eyewitness, Belle Hanson said, “He went up to her, asked for the right way to go, she just freaked out, waving her arms about and screaming, rape. She scared the shit out of the poor bastard. I don’t know if he actually found the tube or not”.

“She was just so very fragile, like a particularly fragile piece of thin porcelain,” Said her Father, Lord Felchingham-Shallows, speaking to reporters outside his 10-thousand acre Home Counties estate today. “Lizzie, oh sorry, Di…do didn’t have an easy childhood like a lot of these young people that hang around chip shops that you read about in the Daily Mail. We didn’t get her a pony until she was seven, she knew what it was to suffer.”

Dido will be remembered for her introspective, ‘maudlin’ songs, which often focused solely around herself. In fact, a study by the teen magazine, The New Music Express, revealed that on her debut album ‘No Angel’ (which ran for a total of 41 minutes), she used the word ‘me’ 743 times.

Second album, same old shit, says NME

Editor of the paper, Johnny Briggs, accompanied as ever by Razzle and wearing his golden belt, had this to say about Dido; “She was without doubt a blight on the music scene, her music was tedious, she was incredible self-obsessed, she didn’t give a fuck about anyone else around her, and she looked like a fucking mess.”

He said before adding, “Thinking about it now, she was more punk than the majority of the tossers we’re currently writing about in that sorry excuse for a sixth form newsletter we call NME”.

Dido is survived by a great sense of self worth and a couple of CDs, which can be used as coasters.

THE FLATLAND GARDENER: A spring Triffid

The Triffid: a lovely plant with a rich history

As we enter the full force of the British spring there is nothing I long for more than to hear the gentle shuffle, as my Triffids manoeuvre around my spacious south-facing garden to gain as much attention from the returning sun, as is possible.

Regular readers of my column will already know of the affection I feel for these most maligned of plants. Brought to this isle by the mysterious Umberto Christoforo Palanguez, the Triffid, which is predominately a summer flowerer, was the first of the ‘genetically modified’ plants, appearing long before the tabloid tittle-tattlers got into a stink over the so-called ‘Frankenstein Fancies’.

Palanguez, father of the Triffid

Like most, ‘moving bole’ varieties, the Triffid does grow throughout the winter, (and is therefore vulnerable to hard frost, which makes it quite tetchy) however it is far less agitated, preferring to find a nice dry spot next to the house, the shed, a large garden wall or green house to sit and ‘think’.

New roots appear early spring, and I suggest breaking up the colony (if you are as lucky as I am to have more than one of these delights) once these appear, as Triffids can become quite overwhelming en masse.

Obviously, the enthusiast gardener, like my good self, will be dealing with the ‘docked’ Triffid, the wild Triffid being far more active and aggressive during this time of year, as it hunts for food. A young wild Triffid (measuring up to 1.5 metres) will typically satisfy itself with a diet of flies and other insects which get caught in the cups, with the larger ‘warrior’ Triffid (2-3 metres) thinking nothing of firing its stem at a passing neighbourhood cat or even the neighbour himself.

Moreover, this is what has led the Triffid to be considered a pest, and to my horror, often referred to as a weed. With all proper precautions taken, including ‘docking’, or if an active Triffid, held back from the 7-metres its poisonous stem can reach, the Triffid is the most beautiful and rewarding garden plant there is.

Most domestic Triffids are 'docked' at the nursery

As for the colour, the rich green ‘feet’ can seem almost black in most lights with the puce leaf being simply breath taking. As spring turns to summer and the long dusty evenings fuse with this adoring plant, the puce darkens to an invigorating blood red, as if the Triffid has gorged itself on a Titchmarsh or a couple of Monty Dons. However, the leaves are subject to fungal disease, so it is recommended that you ask your supplier to provide a systemic fungicide that will offer year round protection.

If you have not already taken the plunge and made the investment in a Triffid, do remember that although they are an extremely hardy plant, requiring minimal practical gardening care, they do like plenty of 'physical' attention and ‘roaming’ space. Once docked, they are perfectly safe around the family pet, but can give ‘loose’ babies a rather nasty suck.

"Love me, hug me, feed me the cat"

Any questions on how to successfully grow and care for a Triffid, please post below.

WE LOVE EACH OTHER - From The Guardian Magazine

Reprinted with no permission from The Guardian Weekend Suppliment 23/04/05

THE WEEKEND MAGAZINE: It just fills your heart with joy.

John Dungravel & Frances Ford

John I used to borrow my cellmates cologne when I knew she’d be visiting. It was called ‘The Beast Inside’, that’s what I thought I was. It was refreshing that my past didn’t bother her; she could see the love I had hidden inside me. Even my history with little ‘Lilly’ and the twins, didn’t dissuade her from coming to see me.

Frances It was his smell that did it. I knew he did not bathe much, due to the threat of violent buggery in the showers, but he still made an effort. I had contacted him through a specialised Internet newsgroup; he thought I was a 12-year-old girl called Lesley. He did not mind when he found out I was 47. He said at least I had a vagina. I decided to wait for him.

More of the same,

'WE LOVE EACH OTHER'
'WE HATE EACH OTHER'

POLITICS: Charles Kennedy ‘not evil’ say Oxford boffins

Unfair and biased election reporting from Angry Chimp News

BREAKING NEWS: A paper published in the academic journal, ‘Clever Bastard’, has revealed that the British public regard Charles Kennedy, leader of the Liberal Party less of a ‘lying bastard’, than both the Conservative Party leader, Michael Howard, and The Leader of the Government, Tony Blair.

Oxford University’s ‘Pop Survey Department’, carried out the research that also demonstrated that although Chuck K was the less of a ‘bullshitter’ than Blair and Howard, his party was still least likely to win the General Election on May 5th.

Graph showing naughty lies and big bad bullshit - Speaks for itself

Professor Octavia Smugsgrove-Lench, suggests that the results clearly demonstrates an inherent ‘savviness’ in the UK voters, rather than the usual perception that the British public are on the whole, semi-evolved, arse picking, chip butty scoffing, Daily Mail reading, soap opera watching, BBC Newsnight avoiding, morons, with Rovers.

“We call it the Corbomite rationale”, Prof Smugsgrove-Lench explained, referring to the episode of the Original Star Trek (or ‘Proper Star Trek’, as it’s known by virgin losers,), where Captain Kirk fibs his way out of a dire situation, then fingers an alien tart.

“Your average voter wants a leader that’ll do just about anything to protect his people, and if that involves lying, then public think that’s justifiable, or at the very least, ok”

This would certainly explain the lead Tony Blair currently commands in the polls, despite having been all but categorically proven to have told some ‘huge whoppers’ over the WMD issue prior to the invasion of Iraq.

“The K Man (Kennedy) is a man many people believe to be far too principled to lie,” continues the Prof, “Hence his relatively poor showing in the polls”.

Said Smugsgrove-Lench before adding, “Oh, and his parties frankly ludicrous and ill-conceived policies, they don’t help the polls much either.”

BNP, as evil as Dido. Ouch, that's fucking evil!

Other research carried out by the Oxford Uni team, show that Charles Kennedy and the Liberals are viewed as the least ‘Evil Bastards’ of all the Parties running in the general election. The Liberals ranking is followed Tony Blair, Michael Howard and the Greens.

It will come as no surprise that Nick Griffin and his group of ‘fucking retarded Neanderthals’, the BNP (Bitter Nazi Party) are by far the most ‘Evil’ of all the Parties running.

Politicians across all Parties could do worse than to seriously consider the results from an additional study carried out by Doc Oct and his boys.

What the Proles care about. Dog shit - yes, Terror - not so much.

The survey of ‘literally stacks’ of ‘eligible Proles’, as Prof Toff puts it, tells us that UK voters are less concerned with terrorism and immigration than they are with the price of a packet of the popular ‘warming up’ breakfast cereal, Ready Brek, and the return of ‘hard nut’ Phil Mitchell to Albert Square, in the BBC soap, Eastenders.

For further insightful comment and speculation surround this most exciting of elections, visit the following media outlets;

Cakesniffer's Beware! News
The Saturnynes Lounge Chronicle
Five - Indie Coverage '05

RECIPE: Oven-baked Wild Mushroom Risotto. Part one

(this recipe first appeared in the book 'Cooking Nosh with Angry Chimp', available online here)

Available from all the usual quality places. i.e. bargin bins, The Works etc

Part one: Preparation.

I’ve always loved cooking.

I find cooking deeply relaxing, and rewarding.

There is nothing better than slaving away in a hot kitchen for hours on end to produce a magnificent feast which I then proceed to eat in 4 minutes flat, whilst watching on the tele, a couple of incredibly smug young bastards deciding which idyllic Mister Man cottage to relocate to with an ‘oh so’ tight budget of only £750k. Whilst all the while screaming, ‘YOU FUCKING CUNTS!’ with mouthfuls of whatever indigestible goo I’ve just bodged together in the kitchen.

Then there’s the washing up it generates, which always seems disproportionate to the crap I’ve just cooked, which I just leave to fester on the side of the sink for days and days on end.

Yes, I love to cook.

Moreover, I love food.

Food is great, not least of all because it stops us from starving to death in a horrible way.

This is my favourite meal. When I say favourite, I mean the only one I have a recipe for.

Oven-baked Wild Mushroom Risotto.

To make this you will need the following:

½ oz dried porcini mushrooms (10g – if you’re not one of those lunatics who refuse to adhere to a sensible metric system, on principle)– you can get these, which incidentally look very much like a bag of twigs, from Waitrose, or Morrisons/ Tesco, if you’re economically disenfranchised.

8 oz fresh, dark-gilled mushrooms (225g) – or, if like me, you don’t know what the hell ‘dark-gilled’ means, just get regular, bog standard ‘shrooms.

2 ½ oz butter (60g) And NO marge won’t work - and if you are using marge, may I suggest getting a grip – try exercising, you never know, if you get off your fat arse once in a while you might be able to switch back to butter, which is more nicer. (or just simply, nicer, if you’re not a regional)

1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped – And if you make a comment along the lines of how peeling onion makes you cry, I suggest plunging the knife you are using into your forehead – you boring, predictable bastard.

NOTE: Finally chopped means into little pieces, not liquidised down to a couple of atoms each, just use some fucking common sense.

Take a break! - here's a food related strip from my pal, Ralphie Kidson.

7 fl oz Italian carnaroli rice (200ml) – Yes you can use regular ‘long grain’ white rice if you are a completely fucking lazy fuck head who doesn’t understand you need the proper stuff if you’re gonna make a decent meal.

5 fl oz dry Madeira (150ml) I normally just splash in some Stella, it’s all I have in the house.

2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan. Hmm…. lovely strong Parmesan, smells a bit, but tastes sooo nice.

Plus 2 oz (50g) extra, shaved into flakes with a potato peeler.

Salt and freshly milled black pepper – or regular ‘out of a shaker’ pepper if you prefer – I get mine from my Alessi, ‘King-kong grinder' which cost me, like £25 or summit. That’s ‘cause I’m way stylish.

Mind you, the bastards not worked properly since day one.

You will also need a 9 inch (23cm) square shallow, ovenproof dish, approximately 2 inches (5cm) deep – if you are the least bit normal you won’t have one, so just use anything that can fit a couple of kittens in – if squashed tight – that’s my new unit of measurement, the squashed kitten.

Face it, yours will look like something the dog sicked up.

Right, once you get that all sorted you will be ready to put it together and make something that may almost taste like Wild Mushroom Risotto, but will by no means look anything like the pictures of it above.

Part Two: Cooking it – Coming Soon.

DIARY: Stephacockaliticus day 3

The daily, heart breaking diary of a blogger, suffering bravely with the terminal condition, Stephacockaliticus.

To Do: Get laundry, buy groceries, not fucking die

I decided today to do a bit more research into Stephacockaliticus, a disease which has become synonymous with a whole raft of recent celebrity deaths. So, it’s not a disease completely without merit.

It’s very important, when faced with something as life threatening as Stephacockaliticus, that you find out as much as you possibly can about it.

And besides, if I want that juicy book deal, or, be still my beating heart, a daily newspaper column, I’ll need to provide some kind of educational content, other than the usual, this hurts and that’s fallen off.

I started my research straight after I bled the sores. The first site I came to was called;

Stephacockaliticus: You’re gonna die…painfully.

I ended the day’s research right there.

FAMILY

It’s the little things that hit you the hardest when you have been diagnosed with Stephacockaliticus.

The first of course is getting used to saying it. It ain’t easy, try it – Steph – a – cock – a - lit- i – cus.

Of course Stephacockaliticus is less formally known as ‘Mung’s Disease’, named after the German Scientist, Gustav Mung, who first discovered the condition in his tabby cat, ‘Lord Minky Mung the 3rd’, way back in July 1956.

You will know that it’s not terribly PC to refer to it now as Mung’s Disease. I think this is because it can easily get confused with ‘Mong’, which is a quite different thing.

In fact, I had a conversation with my sister, Saratoga, earlier today, in which that mistake was made.

Incidentally, I am now recording all the conversations I have so they can be preserved and passed down to my offspring once I am gone.

This will show the little one how painful and degrading the closing chapter of my life was. I hope that this will teach the little sod something about me. Such as what a brave and handsome father I was.

Oh, and that I was a good person and all that bollocks.

I don’t currently have any offspring, which is something else I need to look into before I bite the big one. Perhaps I should write a list of things to do before I die, thus ensuring I utilise what little time I have left to me. As I face the end with such uncertainly, the one thing I do know is that each second is precious.

On the other hand, I can’t really be arsed right now, perhaps I’ll do it tomorrow.

Anyway, here is the conversation I had earlier with my sister, in which I tell her for the first time that her beloved little brother has contracted Stephacockaliticus.

Me: Hi Sara it’s me.

Sara: Who?

Me: Me, Herge.

Sara: Oh right, what do you want? I’m busy.

Me: I went to the doctors on Monday because of how I’ve been feeling.

Sara: What… ‘cause you’ve been feeling like a self centred, egotistical, lying cheating bastard?

Me: No.

Sara: Just as well because that’s not just a feeling, that’s what you are.

Me: Listen Sara, it’s important.

Sara: Oh right… so you want to borrow some more money do you because I told you last time…

Me: No, I have Mung’s Disease.

Sara: What?

Me: I have Mung’s Disease.

Sara: Well I know you’re a bit slow but…

Me: No, I’m not a Mong…

Sara: Well strictly speaking…

Me: No, it’s Mung’s Disease Sara, Stephacockaliticus.

Sara: Stephacockaliticus?

Me: Yes.

Sara: I see. CLICK.

Me: Sara?… Sara?… Sara?

It’s important at a time of crisis like this to know that your family will always be there to support you.

Or in my case, cut me off and refuse to have anything more to do with me.

As I say, it’s the little things that hit hardest…

Previous Stephacockaliticus diary entries;

Day 1
Day 2

Send your comments

POLITICS: UK General Election will be rigged by US Gov’t

TIME: Like a pretentious Heat Magazine

BREAKING NEWS: It’s a shocking discovery, and tonight the future of both the General Election, scheduled for May 5th and the current Labour Government are in serious crisis.

At precisely 10.10am Latvian time, Reuters Associated News ran a story claiming that the cover image from next months TIME magazine strongly indicated that the American Government led by ‘moronic monkey boy’ George W(anker) Bush already know the outcome of the UK General Election, a full 3 weeks ahead of time.

TIME, the well respected American culture magazine, dated May 10th 2005, states that not only will Blair return at the behest of Bush, but together they will look to ‘freedomise’ Iran.

Alan Milburn, Labour Campaign runabout has already denied that the election will be rigged, “Do you have any idea how much of the taxpayers money we’ve already thrown at this thing?” he said at this mornings Labour Party Press conference.

He added, “If the election was already in the bag we’d have used all that loot for a more worthwhile cause, like buying tanks and that”.

Michael Howard, leader of the Bad News Bears, also known as the Conservative Party said he was appalled by this recent turn of events and he would call for an immediate enquiry.

“Let’s face it, Blair is a dodgy lying bastard. We all know it, and we know you think it.” he said, adding “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bit of ‘black’ in him as well, probably where he gets his shifty eyes”.

Harry Legsalott, editor of TIME magazine denies that the leaked cover proves there is a conspiracy in place to rig the UK General Election. “You Brit are all fucking nuts,” He told our reporter this afternoon,

“It’s a mock up, a fake, probably created by one of those loser bloggers. The fact of the matter is we don’t give a rat’s ass about the UK. Let’s face it most of us American are so pig shit thick we don’t even know where Canada is, let alone your back water, rain drenched, liberal loving, hell hole."

However, an off-the-cuff remark made by ‘outspoken’ neo-con Donald Rumsfeld to Fox New reporter, Morgan Rightwinger, hints at the possibility that the TIME cover maybe closer to the truth than either Legsalott or Milburn are willing to admit.

When asked ‘off mike’ about the cover, Rumsfeld said, “Well, we have some experience in these things, here and down in towel head town. It would be a piece of piss to get our boy Blair back in”.

The Green Party have not as yet commented on this story, although a carrier Pigeon with their statement is expected within the next few days.

Crap animals No.18: The Giant Panda

"Oh dear, I think she's looking for some afternoon lovin'. Bugger."

Giant Pandas are one of the most endangered species on the planet, more so than the Liberal American, the modest DJ, or even the Heterosexual TV producer. They are however; less endangered than the interesting blog, so that’s good news at least.

They are black and white bears that live in temperate-zone bamboo forests in central China. Among the best recognized—but rarest—animals in the world, they have come to symbolize endangered species and conservation efforts. As few as 1,600 giant pandas survive in the mountain forests of central China. Another 120 are in Chinese breeding facilities and zoos, and about 20 live in zoos outside China.

So there just ain’t that many of them.

So, what’s the problem?

As far back as I can recall these big, dumb man-in-a-costume looking bastards have been encouraged to breed and increase their numbers. However, they never do. Apparently, captivity has a terrible effect on the male Panda’s member. Making it all floppy and rendering him completely impotent, a jaffa.

Of course, the male Panda will have you believe that out in the wild he’s something of a sex God. Oh yes, out in the forest he’s rutting almost continuously, siring more little furry humbugs than an average chav about town.

But it’s bollocks though, ain’t it? Otherwise they wouldn’t be in the predicament they’re in, if the male panda could get it up once in a while. So it must be a problem that they have out in the bush as well, with the bush, if you like.

I’ve often heard that the male Panda tries to blame the female Pandas, apparently the lady Pandas are a ‘bunch of insensitive bitches’ - male Panda words, not mine. You can often hear them say stuff like; she’s always got that ‘critical’ look in her eye, making the male Panda feel ‘inadequate’.

“Why don’t you break out of here?” She says, “Why don’t you bite that keepers nuts off next time he’s in here cleaning off your winnits, rather than just rolling over on your back and letting him rub your big fat useless belly”.

She says, adding, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you manage to get a semi when he does that to you.”

Man in suit!!!

Thing is this, even man, in the form of Charlton Heston, when caged up and chucked a retarded shaz for kicks, will try to escape, but only after he’s given her one.

Not that any man can resist a Nova. One of the best little Vauxhalls around and ideal for a boy racer makeover.

Seems your Panda just can’t be arsed with shagging, not even when his birds gagging for it.

The Smithsonian National Zoological Park has a lovely web cam of their Giant Sods here.

And honestly, a more boring watch there ain’t, worse than any Gus Van Sant or Lars Von Trier flick, believe me - I know, and that’s saying summit right?

If you follow the link on the page you can also see just how much and how often Mei Xiang is up for it, but Tian Tian (there’s a masculine name for a rolly polly killing machine), he doesn’t want even a sniff of her.

Not his type apparently. Daft bastard. I mean how much ‘Panda tang’ does he reckon he’s gonna get in a cage?

YOU’RE FUCKING ENDANGERED!!!

THERE AIN’T NO LITTLE MISS RIGHT – FUCK WHAT YOU CAN!!!

That’s if he can stop licking his balls long enough to notice anything else.

And I find it interesting that the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) have for many years adopted the image of the Panda as their mascot and motif – that’s quite cynical, just because they look like loveable teddies doesn’t make them the least bit credible - you just ask George Lucas – fucking Ewok bastards.

So, that is why they are crap animals.

On the plus side though, I understand that a nice Panda Burger is quite delicious, especially when washed down with a glass of Panda Cola – I thank you.

More of the stupid buggers here.

And if you must, bash the Panda with your mouse for more 'oh so loveable' action;



Previous crap animals;

No. 47 The Zebra

TOYS: Kenner release 'eagle eyes' Tony Blair

George shows off his new toy -- eyes to the left!

Tony Blair is to become the latest politician to benefit from a 'makeover' from toy maker giant, Kenner.

Kenner's latest Politician action doll, or PolyDoll, as they have become known, is that of the UK Prime Minister, Anthony Aloysius Blair.

Since 1996, Kenner have been using Hollywood special effects technology to produce the most realistic Politician action dolls in the world.

The dolls feature completely articulated skeletons which allow for anatomically correct positioning, an exclusive blend of the most expensive silicone rubbers for an ultra-flesh like feel, and are each custom made to order.

Even before the Blair 1 PolyDoll becomes commerically available on May 5th, orders are already flooding in.

...and eyes now permanently to the right.

Doug Handson, Head of PR at Kenner said their new Blair doll was particularly popular with other well known World leaders,

"We've already shipped an advance model out to George W Bush, the President of the United States" Doug said, adding, "He asked for the special eagles eyes feature which we loved so much we've made it a standard feature".

The Blair 1 PolyDoll is expected to retail from £199.99, complete with stutter, pained expression, 'matey' remarks/excuses and a 40GB memory with click thingy.

DIARY: Stephacockaliticus day 2

The daily, heart breaking diary of a blogger, suffering bravely with the terminal condition, Stephacockaliticus.

My bird waits for me at the meeting for the sickies.

Why me?

That’s all I can keep asking myself… why me?

I’d much rather it have been my mother or sister or my mate John, or Eddie, or anyone… even their children...

Just not me.

Perhaps this disease, a virulent gum and viral condition, has made me bitter, spiteful, selfish and mean?

I read up about the disease, official known as Stephacockaliticus C, at the popular hypochondriac hangout; HELP ME! I'M FUCKING DYING!!!

It claims that Stephacockaliticus does not affect directly, ones personality, other than bringing on stress.

So it appears I have always been a bastard. Who would have guessed?

The Doctor I saw yesterday suggested I attend the local support group for suffers.

‘Licking Stephacock’.

They meet every Friday night and discuss the best way to cope with the illness, and how to live healthy, thus extend your potential life span – Stephacockaliticus is of course incurable.

I can’t actually go this Friday as I’m going clubbing and will be too fucked off my tits on whiz and a couple lines of charley to discuss healthy living. Maybe next week?

I hope that this diary will in some way act as a cathartic process for me, although to be honest it’s not like it’s gonna fucking cure me so the best I can hope for is it being picked up for a book deal and I get loads of cash and an opportunity to fuck loads of middleclass book groupies.

It’s the little dreams that keep me going.

That’s all for now, I need to lance some boils.

Stay healthy, you luckly bastards.

Blog writer gets a 'bug' Hollywood break

LONDON Stephacockaliticus and me – the ‘disease diary’ featured in Herge Smith’s “Angry Chimp” blog site – has been optioned for a feature film by New Line Cinema.

Previously on Angry Chimp...

NLC is known for “Hellraiser” and “Bridges of Madison County”, as well as lesser hits such as, “The Lord of the Hobbits” which was critically panned for its weak metaphor depicting Hobbits as a stereotypical hardworking common sensed working class. Stephacockaliticus is the deadly gum and viral condition which has recently brought us the deaths of ‘Brain Box’ Carol Vorderman, ‘Militanty’ Andrea Dworkin, and ‘Dead Pole’ Pope John Paul the 2nd.

Herge Smith’s heart breaking daily diary on his ‘web log’ or ‘blog’ has frequently attracted as many as ten visitors, or ‘hits’, weekly to read his harrowing struggle with the fear, pain and often prejudice that surrounds this disease.

Blogger’s Movie division will co-produce, “The Stephacockaliticus Diary”, which is expected to appeal to the same movie going demographic as the Bette Midler weepy, “Beaches” and the Ann Widdecoombe, romance/horror/disease flick, “Love Tory”.

Blogger hosts “Angry Chimp” and more than a million similar self-centred, egotistical and just plain boring blogs.

Other stories and articles in the Angry Chimp blog include Crap Animals, an expose of not-that-great-and-sometimes-small creatures, UK election coverage – ‘which bastard ‘05’ and an unending look at the world of TV games shows, including, ‘Celebrity Circumcision – The Final Cut’, Celebrity Prolapse: LIVE’ and ‘Let’s Hunt and Kill Celebrities – Celebrity Special’.

The movie version of ‘The Stephacockaliticus Diary’ is scheduled for an autumn release.

POLITICS: Labour and Tory campaign poster shock

BREAKING NEWS: It’s red faces all round at both the Conservative and Labour Party HQs’. Both parties unveiled their latest campaign posters this morning and to the shock of all concerned, both posters were strikingly similar.

Tory: or is it labour?

Labour: actually racialist?

The Conservatives poster, dubbed, ‘Howard’s Hate’ clearly addresses both the leader Michael Howard and the Tories policy on immigration.

‘I hate foreigners’, the poster announces next to a picture of Howard, along with the Tories election strap line, ‘We think we’re thinking what you are thinking’, suggesting that everyone else in the UK is as much of a narrow minded, bigoted, hate monger as Howard and his rabble of jack-booted, low tar fascists.

Over on the left bank, Alan Milburn unveiled the Labour campaign poster, quickly dubbed, ‘Tory Clone’, due to it being an almost exact copy of the frightening image of Michael Howard on the Conservative campaigh poster, with ‘He hates foreigners', written next to his demonic snap shot.

Initially, Milburn was quoted as saying he was extremely pleased with the message and was sure that it said exactly what the Labour Party think the UK voters are thinking.

However, upon seeing the amazingly similar Tory Poster Mister Milburn said,

“If the Tories think that’s what people are thinking, I think they should think again, and that’s what the general public will also be thinking.”

He said before adding;

“Lets face it, they should think on, that’s what we think.”.

Across the country ethnic minority groups have already attacked both Parties posters; the Tories for being overtly racist and the Labour Parties for playing on racial stereotypes with it’s condescending message, “Vote for Curry and The Kumar’s at No.42’.

Ahmed Kumar (no relation to The Kumar’s at No.42) of Asian Rub-A-Dub, the minority news weekly said;

“For fuck sake, there’s more to multiculturalism than curry, and the Kumar’s aren’t even real people.”

The Tory Party have declined to comment today on The Labour Party campaign, although a source close to Mr Howard has been reported as saying that Mr Howard was delighted with Labour's poster.

“We all know Tony’s a Tory at heart, but we’re frankly amazed his got his party campaigning on our behalf as well”.

The source said, adding, “This elections in the bag for the right”.

When pushed to clarify exactly what he meant by this he said,

"The elections in the bag for the Tories".

The Librarians are after me!

Oh my God!

After reading another fab blog from my friend Tina, I find this...

Well that's charming.

... at the site she has directed us to.

What's worse the place is run by Librarians, and we all know the kind of power those guys wield.

They control all the information, and you know what is information is....

...well in the case of Angry Chimp, information is ripe for manipulation, but you get the point.

Help me!!

Chimp in danger.

NEXT: More political coverage of the election campaign.

DIARY: Stephacockaliticus day 1

The daily, heart breaking diary of a blogger suffering bravely with the terminal condition, Stephacockaliticus.

Type 2: Stephacockaliticus. Actual size.

I reluctantly went to the Doctor this morning after I awoke with a sore gum and a bit of a headache.

I figured this was probably due to smoking 50 fatty bombatty joints and drinking a bottle and a half of Jack Daniels the night before. I didn't want to go but as mother was fond of reminding me, you can never be too careful, especially when it comes to your health.

So, off I went to the local medical centre and sat there amid a slut of pregnant teenage freaks with names like Aqua, Charmine, Tiffany, and the twisted shells of hideous piss smelling old folk, with names like Rosalind, Betty, Molly and Doris.

Finally, I was called to see the Doctor. I say Doctor advisedly, because at first I thought I’d wandered into the wrong consultation room where a 'child' was waiting to be seen. When I asked the 'child' where his mummy was he assured me she was working as Head Surgeon at Kings Medical Centre (Fucking nepotism) and he was indeed the Doctor.

Doctor who? I asked and he tutted and said he’d never heard that before. I pressed him again for his name and he apologised, claiming he thought I was making a joke.

He looked down at me through his specs and asked what ailed me. I told him actually it was a bottle and a half of bourbon and that now my gums felt like I’d spent the night licking out the Queen Mum and I was a bit shivery. Just like you would be if you’d licked out the Queen Mum for an entire night.

Very dry.

He told me the Queen Mum was dead and I said I knew that, and that was what made it worse.

He then stuck a lolly stick in my gob (the joke read ‘What’s black, white and red and rolls down a hill?’ I sadly could not see the conclusion to the pun, although I assume it wasn’t a nun on the rag).

He also felt my glands for a bit before giving my willy a tug, which I don’t think was part of the check up, but it felt nice so I let it go. It was only after he pushed his index finger into my bottom hole and asked me if I liked that, that I asked him to stop and get on with the diagnosis.

He then slumped back in his seat, gave my notes a look over – I’d been preparing a blog on the death of Rod Stewart and had made some jottings in the waiting room – he then sighed and asked me what I thought was wrong with me.

I said something along the lines of how the fuck should I know, seeing as how it was him that had gone to a medical school on mummy and daddies money, whilst I was forced to slum it in a piss poor Poly in the North of England with only an LSD habit and some Readers Wives mags to keep me company.

It was at this moment, me a top his desk, ranting, arse pressed against the window that he informed me that I had somehow contracted Stephacockaliticus.

He asked if I’d been in contact with any suffers and I told him that I’d had sex with Carol Vorderman just before she died.

Turns out that skanky whore had given me a dose.

Obviously, it’s all still fresh to me, so I’m in denial about the fact the survival rate is approximately one in a blue moon, and that I may have as little as eighty years left.

That’s all I can write for now, for my tears are pouring out, flooding down onto my hands, mixing with the build up of filth on my keyboard, causing it to stink summit rotten.

I will try to write more tomorrow if I can summon the strength.

Medical Resource:

Other well known Stephacockaliticus sufferers,

Carol Vorderman
Joey Deacon
Pope John Paul II
Andrea Dworkin

Please leave your comments of support and award nomination below.

I love you all.

Stephacockaliticus and me: Living with a dreadful but blog award worthy illness

It’s time for me to come out from behind the persona of the Angry Chimp and lay my soul bare for you all to see.

Yes, it could be said that I do this only so ‘Angry Chimp’ the blog can be considered for one of the many blog awards next year (I’m also seeking nominations).

See the problem is, the cynics might say, blog award guidelines stipulate that a nominated blog must be a diary about ones life. Clearly, ‘Angry Chimp’ is more of a news reporting blog, if anything.

I know, I know, who would have thought it? – Indeed these are tough guidelines but I must abide.

So I present to you the diary or, ‘web log’ of my struggle with the terminal gum and viral condition that has swept through the ranks of celebrities and pontiffs alike.

For I am also a Stephacockaliticus sufferer.

COMING NEXT: The Diary, or Weblog, if you prefer.

BBC Radio 4 - In defence of a cultural phenomenon

Following Cakesniffers scathing attack on Radio 4, posted here, Angry Chimp has decided to publish a single days schedule from that fine radio station to prove how wrong she is.

Please note this is taken directly from the Radio Times magazine, and has been doctored in no way... honest.



Radio 4
92.4-94.6MHz;198kHz

5.35 News; Shipping 5.43.13 Prayer For The Day with Jonathan King 5.45 Farming 5.57 Weather. It’s raining. 6.0 Today. Righteous indignation for the middle class elite. All politicians lie, all under 40s are disrespectful idiots, including Sarah Montague. 9.0 Start The Week. Andrew Marr interviews a teenager who ate his own testicles and wrote a book about it, a former Hollywood star that is spreading her legs on the West End stage and wrote a book about it, Michael Barrymore who wrote book about Michael Barrymore and a cab driver who just happened to be a Lord, and wrote a book about it. 9.45 (LW) Daily Service. Not that anyone ever listens. 9.45 (FM) Book Of The Week: My Flaps. By Jade Goody. 10.0 Woman’s Hour. Woman are great, men are shit and the systems biased toward men despite the fact there’s no Man’s Hour. 11.0 In Living Memory. A vicar talks about how he abused the choirboys in 1976 – 86 and got away with it. 11.30 Hung Out And Dry. Comedy about three middleclass middleaged sisters and their troubled coffee morning. 12.0 (LW) News; Shipping 12.04 You and Yours. Everyone is trying to rip you off and rape your dachshund. With voiceover for the visually impaired. 12.57 Weather. It’s still fucking raining. 1.0 The World at One. More lying politicians and a report about the chavs planning to move next door. 1.30 Election Call (6/12) More lying bastards, except that lovely Charles Kennedy, but then he’d probably be a lousy leader, right? 2.0 The Archers. Ambridge is rocked by Brian’s Range Rover puncture. Tom is eaten by a one of his pigs. 2.15 Afternoon Play: Not One Of Us. Agatha Segewicks’ harrowing drama about a group of 50-year-old Oxford Graduates who discover that one of them actually went to Liverpool Polytechnic, and never graduated. 3.0 Money Box Live: 08700 100 444 Covering how to invest the inheritance left to you by Auntie Esme last June. 3.30 Lady in Red. New series of short stories to mark the 25th anniversary of the official Chris de Burgh listening, Madeira drink, depressed housewife. 3.45 Room With a View. New Series. The Room in which Joy Division singer Ian Curtis topped himself. 4.0 The Food Programme. Poor Food. Sheila Dillon looks at the food eaten by those people you see hanging around bus stops and outside the fish and chip shop down town. 4.30 Thinking Allowed. Laurie Taylor disappears up his own arsehole, and asks what the intellectual value is of such a journey. 5.0 PM. More lies, but with a dash of 'knowing' humour from the Scottish bloke. 5.54 (LW) Shipping; Weather. 6.0 Six O’Clock News. A repeat of the boring bits from PM without the smug Jock. 6.30 Smug – Unsmug. The ‘tedious’ quotation quiz from that titwank Nigel Rees, creator of the 80's graffiti books which only ten-year olds found vaguely amusing. 7.0 The Archers. Brian fixes his flat with the help of a ‘townie’ and the Pig is elected Major. 7.15 Front Row. Arts magazine show. You’ll never have heard of anyone they talk about, except for an ‘ironic’ perspective of modern Celebrity game shows. 7.45 Middlemarch. Broadcast daily for the past 3000 years. 8.0 The Moral Maze. Radio 4, is it just elitist middleclass, middle England toss? The Panel debate, on mass. 9.0 Frontiers. Peter Evans examines scientific research that suggests that big juicy cocks actually are better. 9.59 Weather. It’s thundering as well now. 10.0 World Tonight. We’re in bad shape, let's face it. 10.40 Party Election Broadcast. By the Angry Chimp Party. 10.45 Book At Bedtime. The Exorcist. By William Peter Blatty. With extra 'gore'. 11.0 Willy Out. A late night comedy with a bit of swearing in it, about a homosexual MP.(1/2) 11.30 Hamish and Dougal: You’ll Have Had Your Tea. A real piss poor comedy beyond parody. (R)(6/1100) 12.0 News and Weather. Lies and rain. 12.30 Book Of The Week: Thick, Fat, Worthless, Media Whore Scum. By Jade Goody. 12.48 Shipping 1.0 As World Service.

Happy listening.