John Travolta appeared last week on Jonathon Ross's TV show, discussing his new movie, taking questions from an enthusiastic Mr Ross regarding his ownership of jumbo jets and discussing his adherence to the Scientology faith.
C***ing hades, if they did a f***ing microscopic, forensic analysis of Jonathan Ross's f***ing tongue, how many f***ing hundreds of trace elements of celebrity f***ing excrement would they find embedded on it? Calm down, you toadying f***ing arsedweller! Stop worshipping the bloke like a f***ing Sun God just because he flies around in a giant plane in some laughably conspicuous display of phallic compensatory twatitude! Ask him what the f***ing f*** he's doing signing up to a religion with all the f***ing ontological credibility of the f***ing daleks, if you want to make yourself f***ing useful!
it has been confirmed that The Saw Doctors have been confirmed for the Acoustic Festival on July 28 and 29 at Dorfold Hall Park near Nantwich, Cheshire. Other acts scheduled to appear at the festival include Jethro Tull, Chris Difford, The Bluetones, Midge Ure and Hazel O'Connor.
Gnaw my f***ing left foot, is that the most arseachingly repellent farrago of pop f***ing deadweight you ever f***ing witnessed? How wild and how numerous would the f***ing horses have to be to drag you to watch this pack of c***s? It's not so much a f***ing day out as a Dantean f***ing descent to some fresh f***ing circle of damnation! F*** f***ing Guantanemo Bay, they should just airflift those f***ing manacled terrorist suspects into f***ing Nantwich! By Chris Difford, they'd be lining up to sign up to full f***ing confessions, by f***ing Midge Ure, they'd have given you the full address and postcode of bin Laden's f***ing cave, together with written directions as to how to get there from the f***ing airport! Now can you please get us the f*** out of here back to our 2' by 4' cells before f***ing Hazel O' Connor comes on?
I note with the faintest of twitches of my eyebrow that a DVD is to be released of a documentary broadcast just last week entitled The USA Vs John Lennon. It shows the former "moptop" in his revolutionary period, which included going to bed, befriending the Black Panthers and writing songs about the IRA with the invaluable assistance of his wife Yoko Ono. It also shows how the FBI monitored his movements and attempted to quash his bid to become an American citizen, arguing that he was a dangerous revolutionary.
Christ's smelly f***ing loincloth, if you ever needed proof that the Americans couldn't find their own gigantic f***ing arses using both hands and a f***ing multibillion dollar laser guided arse-seeking device of their own making, this has to be f***ing it! Lennon's f***ing revolutionary period? You're talking a few f***ing months in about 1972, squeezed in between his screaming-for-his-f***ing-mummy phase and his brandy bender f***ing midlife crisis phase! He wore a f***ing beret for a while, end of f**ing story! He lost all f***ing interest the night Nixon "won" the election! Screaming Lord Sutch made more political f***ing impact than f***ing John Lennon! And thank f***ing Christ! Ever hear his searing f***ing analysis of the Irish situation? He goes on about f***ing leprauchauns! Leprauchauns! Or rather, his cretinous f***ing wife does! "Imagine no posessions!" Yeah, that'd have become a general reality about six months into any f***ing administration in which Lennon had been anywhere near the levers of f***ing power! No posessions, no food, no jobs, loads of f***ing money, mind you, ridden around in f***ing wheelbarrows, but that's only because a f***ing wheelbarrow full of money would have been worth about five f***ing pence as inflation hit 2000%, thanks to Lennon's radical "Power To The Leprauchauns" policy! "The USA Vs John Lennon"? "Stupid C***s Vs Even Stupider, C***ier C***, more f***ing like!
A review, commissioned by the BBC entitled Household Values has in its early stages already reached the conclusion that the BBC is "too upmarket", over-investing in such heavyweight, analytical figures as John Humprhys and Andrew Marr, as well as period dramas, all of which alienate lower income families, while not paying enough attention to programming like EastEnders or Radio 1 figures such as Chris Moyles.
Rim my f***ing dead dog, Andrew Marr a f***ing "heavyweight"? He's as heavyweight as a f***ing Versace daughter! If the f***ing unwashed consider an inoffensive, noncommital, celeb-interviewing, medium-sized portion of f***ing Chardonnay-scented piss like Andrew f***ing Marr too intellectually f***ing intimidating, then it's about time the f***ing unwashed had a long, hard f***ing look at themselves and asked themselves quite frankly if they aren't letting the f***ing species down, endangering our f***ing "erectus" status in the evolutionary scale! And if the prospect of watching some ex-f***ing soap opera starlet poncing around in a f***ing bonnet on a f***ing Sunday evening is equivalent to studying for a f***ing Ph.D in English f***ing literature, you should really ask yourself if it's the f***ing BBC's fault if your brain could comfortably fit in one of your f***ing nostrils! Jesus S. Wept, if there's one segment of f***ing society that's already being over-f***ing serviced, it's the Heat-reading, Chris Moyles a-lot-of-sense-to-making, Twizzler scoffing, living-in-Dagenham-but-Man-Utd-supporting, knucklescraping, satured fat coating the f***ing protein of mankind demograph! Bovine f***ing twatjacks!
Waking up to kippers, green tea, a fresh fruit platter, eggs benedict and two bottles of overproof rum, I take up my paper and am intrigued to learn that the chanteuse of note Sheryl Crow has advised her fans, not to say humanity as a whole, to reduce the number of squares of toilet paper they use, in order to avert ecological crisis.
F***ing right! Go, Sheryl! Go, Sheryl! And so it came to f***ing pass that temperatures cooled once more, the ozone layer stitched itself back together and the polar caps reverted to the iciness of yore, and all because one American f***ing singer-songwriter had the courage, the heart, the bravery and the vision to find the f***ing solution that had confounded scientists for years – more judicious f***ing arsewiping! You featherheaded waste of f***ing flaps! Every time you open your f***ing mouth it's one giant f***ing methane emission! You seriously, earnestly, stopped and thought about this, didn't you? You let the thought rattle around your empty f***ing skull for all of five minutes of pure, ethereal gormlessness before letting it roll off your f***ing tongue! Listen, you stupid f***, it isn't about f***ing toilet paper! Unless we revert to a quality of life you wouldn't wish on a f***ing scarecrow, starting about 15 years ago, we're utterly f***ing f***ed! One square, one f***ing telephone directory, humanity's down the f***ing toilet anyway, you clueless c***!
It would appear that Boris Yeltsin, the former Russian Premier who oversaw his country's transition from Soviet communism to the free market, has died, aged 76.
Jesus bit my f***ing nipple, it says something about what a giant f***ing joke of a country f***ing Russia is that a f***ing dysfunctional alkie like Yeltsin, on eight f***ing bottles of vodka a day and two f***ing bypass operations a week, could get to be in f***ing charge of it! Seriously, this was the best you Cyrillic c***s could do? You couldn't find some f***er sleeping under a bridge using a pool of his own f***ing piss as a mattress? Or a f***ing bear to shave and put in a suit and shove in the f***ing Kremlin? God f***ing help us – the man who gave away 90% of the f***ing country's infrastructure in return for a f***ing Dacha and six crates of f***ing potato based moonshine! They basically shoved a f***ing battery up his arse and operated him by f***ing remote control for the last f***ing five years he was in office, didn't they? Cabbage eating c***s!