Thursday, 17 June 2010


Evenin' all and welcome to our little Westminster studio and on tonight's show we have a rotten, wrinkly, clapped-out  old reprobate who loves the young female form, or a dashing playboy approaching middle age, as I prefer to describe myself.

We'll be looking at the cuts proposed by the Coalition of the Unwholesome.  But not too closely, because they mean fuck all to the likes of us. And certainly not to me because the BBC gives me all the work I want. Some say it's because of my searching interview style, others because I'm right up the arse of the political establishment and they can trust me not to go too far. You ask yourself, as you open your bottle of Blue Nun, while you can still afford it, if I was any good, wouldn't they run a fucking mile from my Daily Politics show? Well, wouldn't they?

On the show tonight there'll be some fading, jumped-up celebrity like Billy Bragg or Bill Wyman and they'll be sharing their thoughts,  such as they are, not that either of them could even spell elected dictatorship or expenses whitewash or even pisspoor Tory leader who couldn't win against a mental case and a gang of thieves.

But never mind that. And talking of gay mental cases, on the sofa, still -  and true to form, he's not standing for the leadership of anything -  is the Smouldering Spaniard, Don Miguel - as he's known on the cottage walls - our very own Michael Portillo.

 This is what happens to people who tell lies

Michael, your moment of the week, did you have your minders attack some defenceless little poof, who was trying to out you,  - not that there's anything to out -  wrestle him, quite illegally, to the ground and quite illegally rough him up a bit and you a former cabinet minister, and a privy councillor and everything and a lawmaker, but then, of course, the law, as we have seen, doesn't apply to cabinet ministers, past, present or future, we might almost say, and since we are all so closely connected, probably doesn't apply to journalists, like myself, either. And it must be true because if I was an ordinary elderly person then my colleagues in skymadeupnewsandfilth would be yelling at me, staking-out my homes and front-paging me with pictures of very young women and calling me a pathetic, dirty, filthy, old cunt abusing my money and my position at the BBC in an attempt to stave-off Death and to obliterate the guilt I feel at being such a lying, distorting, unprincipled, money grubbing  gabshite charlatan - or a typical Journalist - all these years, which is what I am of course. All of the above.  Did I tell you I went to grammar school?

I mean, it's alright, Michael,  you sitting there looking outraged, you know I wouldn't really ask you these questions, it's only that the bloke who writes me has been sent some herbal cigarettes for his birthday and is trying to portray me as an almost decent old bloke, instead of the festering canker that I am, leeching, symbiotically on the diseased body politic and pretending,  quite ludicrously, to be its Nemesis, it's scourge and that's why people old enough to know better, some of them as old as me, still consider me, despite all the evidence to the contrary to be a people's champion, a tribune,  my life spent commissioning, editing and proofreading a fanfare for the common man, skymadeupnewsandfilth style. That Neil, he really goes for it, rips 'em a new arsehole he does,  that's what they say, which, let's face it, is bollocks, when's the last time I broke a story, exposed a  political fraud, a conflict of interest, never, that's when, gossip pretending to be news, that's my thing, rips 'em a new arsehole, as if, I didn't get where I am today by challenging the status quo. Obviously. Aye, People's Champion, me and John Prescott.

But now to our first guests, satirist Mr Chris Wotsit, whatever a satirist is, nudge-wink, nudge-wink, Ah,  the old ones are the best, although some of my young female acquaintances might disagree, and Mr Peter Poofter - did I mention I was from Glasgow? And went to University? Peter is a fag activist who doesn't have very much money.  Chris and Peter, what's your........TakeOfTheWeek?


lilith said...

That clip is very funny.

mrs narcolept said...

I can see why you might despise Brillo, but I enjoy watching him more than any other commentator or whatever it is that he is. At least he is quick-witted and amusing, and he does, occasionally, smack a smug lying guest in the gob with a flat contradiction of their nonsense. As for his trophies; well, at least everyone knows where they stand, he's not betraying anyone's trust, he is reputed to be generous, and for a professional girlfriend there are probably worse men to be involved with.

call me ishmael said...

More liberal and compassionate with he than he would be with you, mrs n, I fear.

And we will never know who might have given the politicos a truly bloody nose as long as Neil and Paxman and the rest hog the interviewing limelight, have, in fact, become the show, the Medium, as professort McLuhan remarked, is the message, Celebrity serving itself.

His lifestyle, in a better world, would be his own affair, and that of his purchases, I go on about it so much because Neil, in his printbased life was such a Murdoch dog, a scandal monger, ripping apart the lives of ordinary souls who had offended Rupert's bumptious morality. His eminence gris-ness doesn't wash with me, I'm afraid. skymadeupnewsandfilth is proper democracy's biggest enemy, Neil its Ambassador.

Did I mention I went to Grammar school? I think I probably did. But it doesn't hurt to repeat it, Nighty-night and easy on the Blue Nun. Jesus Wept