Keith Harris is brown bread I see. That's the duck fucked then isn't it? Actually, thinking about it, he's probably relieved that he won't be getting that sweaty mitt shoved up his ring piece ever again. No wonder he had such a high pitched fucking squeak. Woof.

I got an email in this morning asking if I'd like to support Nepal. I didn't even know they had a football team. What division are they in? Woof.

Bless me Father, it's been three weeks since my last blog...watched that Bear Grylls programme with me Dad last night, the one where there's about a dozen people stranded on an island trying to survive on their wits (if they can find them). There's a "man" island and a "woman" island. The men are out setting crocodile traps, whilst the women on the "woman" island are all lying on the beach moaning about how thirsty they are, and how dehydrated they are. And they are all lying in the fuckin sun not the shade! The brainless fucking tarts. Then a storm comes over and it starts to lash it down, so what do they do? That's right, they all stand up with their mouths open and their tongues hanging out FFS. Don't bother trying to collect any of it, just open yer bastard mouth and see how much you can quench your thirst and dehydration that way. Oh, and don't bother trying to protect the fire from the rain. The fire that it took you three bas