Daily archives: February 8, 2004


Discussion last night, as well as porn buddies and ear bleeding guitar music, took in the subject of suitable presents for newborns. We struck upon the idea of buying notional bottles of whisky to be released to celebrate landmarks. Casks laid down in the year of the baby’s birth would be bottled at 18 and 21 years. The child would receive a bottle on their 18th and 21st birthdays and another to mark their wedding or 30th, whichever came first. A company would have to be set up that bought three casks a year- which can be done, though at the moment the recommended method of investing in whisky is to buy bottles– and assured their future bottling and distribution.

link via The Sesquipedalian

The Government we deserve

Tony Martin wants to be an MP. Oh dear God.

Now, it’s vitally important that people have the right to defend their home, family and person. As far as I can tell, the law allows for that- ‘reasonable force’ etc., though that’s a phrase that is wide open to interpretation- but it correctly doesn’t give carte blanche to gun down anyone on your property. Which is probably what the drafters of Martin’s law want.

Tony Martin is not a hero. He’s either (pick the one you find least offensive) a criminal who illegally held and used a pump action shotgun, a murderer or a man so disturbed that even the NRA would have thought twice before letting him have a gun.

Rant over.

Surreality Television

I’ve been mulling over a few proposals for new TV programmes-

I’m A Celebrity, Please Don’t Feed Me To The Piranhas Does exactly what it says on the tin. A team of eight Z-list celebrities are flown to the South American jungle to be ritually humiliated and prodded with sharp sticks. At the end of each week viewers vote and the loser is thrown into the fish tank. Ant and Dec present from a glass bubble at the bottom of the tank. At the end of the series the bubble is flooded and they have 30 seconds to escape.

Celebrity Decompression Chamber Eight silicon enhanced ‘babes’ are taken into the upper atmosphere aboard a NASA vomit comet. As it goes into a dive to simulate zero-G the co-pilot messes with the pressure in the cabin to see if implants really do explode. Ant and Dec present whilst strapped to the plane’s wings.

Celebrity Battle Royale Twenty Z list celebrities, footballers and traffic wardens are kidnapped and flown out to an island. Each is given a weapon and some basic equipment and it’s kill or be killed to escape. There is one special escape clause- anyone, apart from Jordan herself, who can make a working slingshot from Jordan’s bra and use it to decapitate the effigy of Dwight Yorke also gets off the island. Ant and Dec present from the centre of a minefield. At the end of the series they each pick a direction and run.

Non-Person Eight Z list celebrities are locked in a secure house on that Scottish island where they released anthrax. This isn’t announced, there isn’t a television programme and all mentions of their names are expunged from participating newspapers and websites. There is no time limit, and every year another eight non-entities are removed from the public eye never to be seen again unless there is a ‘Wankers with no talent who think they’re special ‘ revival. Every week Ant (or Dec) has another body part removed and posted to Cat Deeley. Patrick Kielty wakes up one morning to find the severed head of the camp bloke from Airport in his bed.