Poor Man About Town

What is about Kelvin McKenzie, he does not lend himself to the radio or television very well. My refrigerator could articulate much better than him. He has an over-valued idea of himself and all the media organs follow suit. Why is the licence fees paid on these rather talentless individuals.

Kelvin appeared on Any Questions tonight. He was crap. He had nothing original to say - he was parrotting the Richard Littlejohn line!

For all his right-wing faults, Littlejohn comes accross as McKenzie's intellectual superior and someone who is quite able to use the press, tv and radio extremely well. So why are we paying for the likes of McKenzie to appear on Radio.

Labels: crap, journalism, Kelvin McKenzie, richard littlejohn, tabloid, the media, trash

I was feeling bored yesterday night, I was bored and I had morbid curiosity and tuned into that rather dreadful house makeover show with that balding git with sideburns who oozes and gushes his way through each episode. The programme started with the balding git ski-ing around with gay abandon - showing us how superior he is to us poor gits. This episode focussed on an old dilapidated farmhouse in the French Alps. We learn that this couple had a shed load of money to spend on a fucking shed! £750 000 in actual fact. The woman is an interior designer, these people charge you mucho dinero to tell you the type of wallpaper you should buy and how your bog should look to visitors - I guess that this is how she earns shed loads of money. She wanted to redesign the shed to keep its rustic appearance and original timberwork but wanted all the modern fixture and fittings to go with it. Now here is something absolutely hilarious, she wanted eight bedrooms and eight bathrooms, but all I could see of family were one husband and two small sprogs. The bedroom windows would be at ground level offering the nice view when lying on bed, but when standing one would have to be less than one metre high to appreciate said view - the woman is an interior designer, remember! The next most hilarious point is that the house is built without foundations on the side of a fairly steep hill; what kind of insurance company is going to touch a liability like that. I was getting increasingly annoyed watching this crap and shouted "fuck off" at the television and switched channels. To think Channel 4 want part of my licence fee to produce this programme with its narcissistic participants, I am minded to stop watching tv all together.

Labels: grand design, Housing, housing market, Television, trash, tv programme

It seems that The Sun Newspaper would like to see this scenario created around the home of Haringey's Director of Children and Young People, Sharon Shoesmith with regard to her handling of the "Baby P" case.



I was listening to BBC Radio 4's PM, and heard an extremely sanctimonious, self-righteous and pompous Political Editor from The Sun shovel us some hot bullshit about he and The Sun were not causing a witch hunt (I bet his smouldering knickers were singeing the hair of his bollocks when he said that!) but that the paper wanted to hunt down those responsible for the death of Baby P. I guess that if those responsible are burnt at the stake for their negligence, we would get this response: IT'S THE SUN WHAT DONE IT!

All this is mere cynical sensationalism in an attempt to colonise the memory of an abused and innocent child to flog copy. As if this paper cares about anyone at all, let alone a child. This campaign strikes me as somewhat crass.

Labels: mob rule, newspaper, Sharon Shoesmith, social services, tabloid, the media, The Sun, trash, witch hunt

It's been a long time since I have tuned into LBC, it was becoming increasingly unlistenable - drivel and earwax give tremendous earaches. Time was there were fairly good broadcasters on board, now they all seem to be refugees from the tabloid press, whose skills are broadcasting can be likened to a chimpanzees with typewriters. I guess that the content is dictated in a similar vein. It's now become complete tabloid trash. I shan't be tuning into LBC ever again.

Labels: broadcasting, LBC, Radio, tabloid, trash

Nick Ferrari's show is degenerating into complete crap - I used to tune into his show to shout at the radio and in the process wake myself up in the mornings. Now, there seems to be endless items on fucking babies. Today's item was on IVF and the implantation of "fertilised embryos" (sic). I shouted "fuck off" at the radio and switched channels to the more sedate territory of Radio 4's Today programme.

Is Galliard Homes determining this shite? If so, it is wasting an awful lot of money.

Labels: broadcasting, LBC, Nick Ferrari, Radio, Radio 4, trash

Being quite skint at the moment, I have to behave myself with my bank account - I am fast approaching the end of my overdraft limit and I have too much month at the end of my pay. I went into my bank, HSBC, to obtain a statement print-out to check on things. My nerves were somewhat jangled and the muzak did little to alleviate the situation. The muzak stopped, a male voice announced "This is HSBC radio" then a female voice came on, deejay, talking deejay babble - you know that twelve year old shit - that was babble babble babble and next we have babble...then there were ads about the crippling and balls busting loans that the bank offers. What the fuck is HSBC playing at; spending on all that interest I pay them on some twelve year old to announce fucking records.

Labels: Banksy, commercials, Radio, trash

Have you ever noticed that when a really good piece of music becomes hackneyed it becomes horrible on the ear. This happened with Vivaldi's Four Seasons when telephone answering services adopted as a jingle designed to keep you hanging on to the telephone. Ad agencies are now plundering classical music to sell burgers, paint, diy, shit. Now Diesel has found Schubert's Piano Trio in E Flat to flog one of its stinky products. Worse still, the music stops and starts. The ad is real shit and I feel really angry that my personal cultural is being invaded by this shit.

Labels: Advertising, culture, Music, trash

My daughter wanted to watch the X-factor tonight. Televisual trash along with Big Brother, Big Gorilla Celebrity in the Living Room - Get it out of here type of shit. I spent most of the time in the kitchen, yet every time I came into the living room there was the Mockney tones of twelve year old tv celebrity cum presenter, Fern Cotton. She's like scabies, getting under your skin and irritating the life out of you. Is this creature so designed to get on middle-aged nerves? Judging by her apparent vacuousness guess her raison d'etre is to plague the aging - why can't she just fuck off?

Labels: celebrity, culture, Television, trash

Having one's gaff burgled is no fun; but when a trash tv programme "Location, Location, Location" becomes a brochure for burglars one is left to wonder why invite a trashy tv programme into your home; it is only a Trojan Horse for burglars. Let this be a lesson to all those egoists out there - don't encourage shit television, it only encourages shit people to come in and have it on their toes with your your valuables.

Labels: burglars, crime, Lifestyle, property, Television, trash

What is it about the BBC - not content with making BBC1 its own trash channel (and that includes the News)as well as a large part of BBC2 also showing crappy programmes, it has done some navel gazing and believes that it is far too high brow. A review has been ordered by the Director-General, Mark Thompson. What this means is that a large sum of money is going to be spent on researching something of which we will already know the outcome anyway - more trash on BBC!

Labels: BBC, dumbing down, media, review, Television, trash

I was watching one of those lifestyle fascism programmes on the box today, I can not recall the name; but the aim of the programme was to help people flog off some of their stuff to redecorate their home or parts of it. The victims were a young couple with one child and another on its way and they wanted the cash to redecorate the new arrival's room. The programme described the stuff they wanted to flog. All well and good until the arrival of the obligatory interior designer who has that annoying obligatory phoney cheerful (quasi-comic) manner. The day was saved by female of the couple, she was regaled with suggestions which pointed to modern lifestyle trashiness all of which she resisted. The interior designer introduced her to this selection of toy boxes. There was a cheap, cheerful and plain set, which the woman selected (cost £26), some flexi designer garden buckets made out of plastic (crap at £5 each) and another set of designer boxes which had a teddy bear's motif stuck on the side cost £90. Although the young woman expressed a preference for the plain boxes, it seems that she did not purchase them. She was the offered suggestions that baby could put magnets on this sheet and have playing with, cost £50, young woman looked at this item as complete bollocks. Then the interior designer offered up some black board paint, baby would have fun scribbling around on this, she said it would save the walls (gosh, this interior designer knows nothing about small children, you can let them loose in a paper mill and they would still write on the walls), as for the blackboard paint, plenty of fun with chalk dust and discarded chalks. Then she showed the young woman a selection of some rather garishly designed multicoloured duvet covers - the designs were so loud that the primary colours on them were screaming out thrash metal mega death - this bedding was designed to make your child into psycho killer. Young woman looked these in abject horror and icily refused them. I thought "great!", this young woman made it very clear that she was not going to have the peaceful ambience of her home trashed by this interior designer. For once, I was feeling quite gratified that schlock like this can be embarrassingly resisted by its victims.

Labels: crap, Lifestyle, modern, Television, trash