Was telling me Mum last night that after years of struggling with her weight that the doctors have finally discovered what was wrong with his ex missus. It was all down to her ears, apparently. "Her ears, what've they got to do with it?" me Mum asked. "Well, they were so fucking good that they could hear the ice cream van coming from six streets away," me Dad said. Here's one for you. What's yellow and lies at the bottom of the Indian Ocean? It's sand. Why, what did you think I was going to say? Come on, have a fucking heart will ya. Woof....

First off, what the fuck was Fiona Bruce wearing for the Antiques Roadshow on Sunday night? Sartorial elegance has never been her thing, I'll give you that. Her dress standards are lower than Kerry Katona's IQ. Then we are treated to Mark Lawrenson on Match of the Day looking like Harry Hill's ageing alcoholic Grandad. What the fuck's that all about? Then they keep inundating us with another one of those fucking Oxfam ads. "Sinita has no food, no water and no hope..." Fair enough, I've got empathy for Sinita and her little lad who has to drag a carton of water back from the watering hole fifteen miles away every day, especially having only eaten the shite that Sinita dishes up for him. Why doesn't Sinita go and get the fucking water herself instead of scrabbling around in the dust and sending the little lad off for it? What I also don't get is how come for four quid Sinita can have a cow and suddenly everything's sorted. First off, is that all ...

Who, every time Oscar Pistorious gets a mention on the news, adds "happy and glorious" to the end of it in his head? What's got four arms, two legs and only one head? Oscar Pistorious and his girlfriend. Allegedly. I do the same thing when watching Match of the Day when Arsenal are on....Santi Cazorla, lives round the corner, bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. What's up with me? Bored fucking shitless, that's what.

The bastards have all buggered off to work, or school, or wherever the fuck it is that they go, leaving me on me Jack Jones once more. Still, at least they've left the TV remote control within easy reach. So here I am watching old re-runs of Antiques Roadshow from the settee, whist eating cheesey nibblets. Don't you hate it on Antiques Roadshow when people bring in any old shit, expecting to get a mega value on it because it has some un-provable "provenance" I think they call it. "Yes, Fiona, it might just look like a piece of old chewwy to you, but I picked this up outside The Cavern Club in 1960, just after John Lennon gobbed it into the gutter." Or, "My Mum's next door neighbour's sister used to work at Buckingham Palace at the time of the Royal Wedding between Charles and Diana. Well, Charles came home bladdered the night before the wedding, having gone out on his stag night with his brothers, Andrew and the other one. Drunk as a skunk he wa...

This Malaysian plane thing. Why don't they just tell the insurance claimback twats that half the passengers on the plane might have been mis-sold PPI and they'd soon track the fuckers down. Also, following the tragic death of Mick Jagger's girlfriend L'Wren Scott, the Rolling Stone's singer is said to be "in a state of shock and too upset to talk about it," by his new girlfriend. Andy Murray and his coach Ivan Lendl have split up I see. Lendl said he couldn't understand a word the Jock Twat said. Four people have died in a helicopter crash in Norfolk. The dead were so horribly disfigured that the locals thought that they were still alive. Clarissa Dickson Wright has died, aged 66. I don't know why, but I think I'd have found it more appropriate if she'd have hung on for another 22 years. And finally, Waddingtons have launched a new disabled version of Cluedo today. The runner did it, in the bathroom, with the revolver. Woof.

That finds the combination of the headlines "Max Clifford Persuaded Teen To Take Her Top Off" immediately followed by "Chris Tarrant Has Mini-Stroke" slightly amusing? That's about as close to having a laugh as I'm going to get today anyway, stuck in this fucking dump on me own whilst they're all out. There's fuck all on the telly either, now that Crufts has finished. Still, I guess that ParaCrufts will be on in a couple of weeks. Me Dad said he went into McDonalds yesterday, and the bloke behind the counter said "would you like one of our special Easter McCookies sir? They're 50p each, or you can have three for a pound." Me Dad said "I'll have two please." He said it took about five seconds, but the spotty ginger twat's head did eventually explode. Woof.

A man gets the following text from his neighbour: I am so sorry Bob. I've been riddled with guilt and I have to confess. I have been helping myself to your wife, hammering it morning, noon and night when you're not around. To be honest, I'm surprised that you haven't noticed as I really have been tearing the arse out of the job. I don't get it at home any more, although I know that really that's no excuse. I just had a little dabble one day, for a laugh really, and sort of got addicted. Since then I've just been filling my boots. I mean if it's on offer 24/7, and it's free then what's a guy like me to do? I'm only human after all. But, Bob mate, I can no longer live with the guilt and I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies along with my promise that it will never happen again. The man, anguished and betrayed, goes into his bedroom, grabs his gun, and without a word, shoots his wife dead there and then. A few moments later, a second tex...