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...

"Singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell is in intensive care after being found unconscious at her Los Angeles home," say the BBC. Doctors are mystified as to what's wrong with her, and say that they probably won't know what she's got 'til she's gone. Woof. Still, at least the hospital get a new parking lot out of it. Yes, as you've probably guessed by this point, I'm bored shitless again today, still it's now only 10 minutes to tea-time, and I know that there's a sausage in the fridge with my name on it. I love sausages, they're just so "sausagey" aren't they? Nogger's dog's top five foods, hmmmm. There is indeed food for thought....5) sausage 4) double sausage 3) sausage and gravy 2) double sausage and gravy 1) sausage, sausage, gravy, sausage and gravy.

People that knew him say he was a bit of a loner with few friends, full of his own sense of self importance, a bit of a bombastic twat who thought he was always right and a sombre fucker. Or a German as me Dad calls them. Woof.

Shite wasn't it? We didn't have any of those funny glasses, so me Dad looked at it through a colander, just like they said to do on the BBC website. Now he reckons he's strained his eyes. Woof. Of course we weren't in Jockland, to get the best view of it, thankfully. I'd be surprised if anyone up there even noticed it. "It's going to go a bit darker and colder than normal" - not a lot to go on if you're a Sweaty Sock there is there? It does that every fuckin day up there. This Jock moves to London looking for work. After about a month he goes home to visit his Mum in Glasgow. "Well, our wee Hamish, how's London then, so it is?" his Mum asks when he gets home. "Nae too bad Ma, except the bloke in the flat below me keeps bangin on his foockin ceiling all day and night, and the wee lassie above me screams and wails constantly, it dee's me fookin heed in it dees," he says. "Try not to let it bother yee too much, just ig...

Why do the Sweaty Socks get to see more of it than we do? Well, when I say "see" from what the BBC say it's gonna be cloudy as fuck up there tomorrow (just like yesterday and the day before that), so in truth they'll get to see bugger all - hahahaha! Stick that you Sweaties. Can't get rid of the fuckers can we? Give them their independence, now that the price of oil has come down, that's what I say. And the Welsh, they can frack off as well. Do you remember Max Boyce? What a boring Welsh twat he was. About the only Welsh punter who's ever done anything decent is that bloke who pissed off to Patagonia and set up a mini-Wales down there - that's about the sort of distance I like between me and the Welsh, thousands of fucking miles and a vast area of ocean.