Fed up of reporting on where Kate Middleton's tits are going to flop out next (it's Denmark today if you are interested), the subject of my ire today is the fucking USDA. A pooh on a polished plinth is winging it's way to Washington as I type. Now that me Dad's moved into his new office I hardly get to see the fat bastard much anyway, and now the USDA changing the release of their report times around mean I'll get to see him even less. The tight bastards. Have you ever tried using a tin opener with paws the USDA? Have you fuck, so get to fuck and change the fucking times back for fuck's fucking sake. An American walked into an English pub and asked for a pint of Budweiser. The barman replied "You're American aren't you?" The man says, "Yeah. Could you tell by the drink I ordered, or the accent?" The barman replied. "Neither, you're the fattest fucker I've ever seen."

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Fuck me, what a busy weekend they've had, flopping out in France, Ireland and Italy whilst she's been in Borneo or somewhere. Magic royal raspberry ripples they are. Think of the air miles they've clocked up already. More than Judith Chalmers' leathery old saddle bags that's for sure. Suddenly more people have had a blimp at the Duchesses fairly unimpressive jowlers than Jordan's. There's something inherently wrong about Johnny Foreigner copping an eyeful of the Regal Molehills before we Brits have had chance of a decent butchers at Kate's Kohinoor Diamonds though isn't there? I'm already sick to the back teeth of them. I had a dream last night that Prince William was attacking me with a wet lettuce whilst the DOE looked on wearing only a leather posing pouch and nipple clamps that I'm sure was something to do with it/them. Put them away dear and give us all a break. The Daily Mail, bless, are doing their best to rise above it. Reporting from...