This prick should fall down on his knees everyday and thank Satan that a nation of braindead, culturally illiterate Iolantheans found his threadbare creations funny, even for a minute. Coogan, the man who made a ten-minute, cringeworthy sketch last for years and fucking years was at Lord Levo's rubbish cover-up today, the whole fucking gang of them, celebrities and lawyers, simpering and sincere, like an audience from Oprah Winfrey. It's not just me, he luvvied, stuttering, it's for the poor people, too.
I never heard this overpaid, overrated, overindulged teevee wanker complaining when Joe Public was shat on for fiddling a few quid from the Social, tiny, tiny and irrelevant compared with mortgage and expenses fiddles perpetrated by so-called parliamentarians. I never once heard him use his celebrity to attack the tabloids for destroying the lives of countless people who've slipped-up, here and there, I never heard him rip into rabid, mongreldog Kelvin McKenzie, the foul, drunken, racist, sexist cocksucker but fuck me, I was wrong, here he is, here's Steve Coogan, standing up for the little guy. BAFTAs all around, I should think. Yeah, and one for that other dingleberry, Jervaise, the fat, greasy fucker, with the high pitched voice, the one who'd urge-on the school bully and then squeak it wasn't me, sir.
(a reader writes, dear mr smith, Mr Ricky Jervaise's The Office is just about the funniest thing ever shown on British TeeVee and at this time of trouble that's what we all need, a good laugh, so there. Or at the very least a good healthy cringe. signed, mrs iolanthe trubshaw. ps Mr Coogan's series I'm Alan Partridge is also just about the funniest thing ever seen on British TeeVee, everybody says so.)
Tomorrow down the Strand.
Gerry and Cilla McCann.
Why we need more publicity. Two angelic young doctors explain why they are the real victims. All channels. All media outlets.
Before commencing proceedings Lord Levo will lead the cast in a rendition of There's No Business Like ShowBusiness.
5 comments:
It was far worse than standard luvviedom, it was a milk-curdling casting of himself as heroic and sacrificial as he asserted that he and Huge Grant weren't doing this for themselves, they were doing it for all those others who "lacked the courage".
I now need a new radio. The bin lorry ran over the old one.
Coogan? Twat. My ten-year-old has more comedic talent. Isn't he the one who thinks it's funny to wear jumpers? Ho, bloody ho.
I only saw a moment of him, mr ptb, but that was enough. I missed the story of the Glasgow couple, their lives trashed - after their daughter's death and their son's subsequent suicide - by the Glasgow Herald. The Herald is the home of every political cocksucker in Scotland, down on its collective knee before shiteaters in kilts, tongue up the arse of the most bent legal establishmen in Europe and, as I've mentioned here countless times, peddling, daily, the What does it mean to be Scottish? shite beloved of its otherwise comatose commentators.
In response to today's revelations the Herald has said all this was in the past, under a different owner and written, anyway, by a freelance. That's Ok then. Looking forward now to the Herald's Hogmonay gifts to Parliamentarians of the year Ceremony - ie in HeraldWorld all of them. You lick my bumhole and I'll lick yours.
Hugh Grant played the crowd too. Shame his inadvertent dogging (pun intended) exploits weren't brought up!
You got Gervaise bang to rights there, Mr Ishmael.
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