Terry Wogan pulls out of Children in Need after threats from Damian Hirst.

Terry Wogan  has announced that he is pulling out of Children in Need after threats were received from Damian Hirst over the use of his 'Spot' painting on Pudsy's bandage.

Hirst is reported to claim that: 'I fucking invented spots, how dare they use them to raise money for children in need. If you don't want needy children don't fucking fuck. Don't go nicking my ideas without adding to my millions.'

Unseen Bronte poem in full.

Jan Nieupjur writes...

A boozy night in Haworth led to a 'private glimpse' of the previously unknown Charlotte Bronte poem recently discovered. My photographic memory did not fail me, here it is in full:

Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.

Bad dreams in the night.
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,
On the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
Falls through without you.
I'm coming back, love.
Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,
My only master.

Too long I roam in the night.
I'm coming back to his side, to put it right.
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights,

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know it's me Cathy!

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy.
I've come home. I'm so cold!

Of course it is the Kate Bush classic.

Right to Buy. How it works.

1. You live in social housing in an upwardly mobile area of London with an Index linked rent of X pounds per Month.

2. You are gulled into buying your property at a slight discount in order that you may own your own castle and that the Housing Association/Local Authority has the funds to build new Social housing elsewhere in order to socially cleanse the upwardly mobile area in which you live. The repayments on the loan you take out to buy your property cost you 2X pounds per Month.

3. Interest rates rise as they inevitably do in our 'Boom & Bust' economy. Your repayments rise to 3X per Month.

4. When your repayments reach 4X per Month; an amount you can no longer afford. Either the Mortgage Company forecloses forcing a 'Fire-sale' or you sell hurriedly.

5. Your property is bought by an investment company which then lets it at a full market rate thus aiding the social cleansing process.

6. You 'downscale' by buying a smaller, cheaper property in a less affluent area or more likely move back into rented property elsewhere placing yourself back on the Local Authority housing list when you lose your job and health due to the stresses of home ownership.

7. You die in a homeless hostel in Wigan.

8. The investment company eventually sells its entire property portfolio of ex Social homes to the Chinese for billions thus ensuring that in future an Englishman's home will be someone else's pagoda.

Why I am grumpy.

I have COPD; chronic obstructional lung disease according to my doctor. But I don't. I have lost 50% of the oxygen producing cells in my lungs due to contracting a strange virus some years ago. I am now told that standard drug procedures for someone suffering from Emphysemia is the way to go, not because I have emphysemia but because it is the easy answer.

I've been grumpy for a while, I'm grumpy with myself for being grumpy. I'm beating myself up for being a grumpy old man.

For the past six weeks I have been unable to do anything other than try to breath and do nothing and while doing nothing I have been indulging in grumpyness. I promise you, living with me has been hell and I am the first to admit that I have considered hiring a hit man to take me out.

I saw a new GP today.

A new day a new dawn.  I had been prescribed steroids, knowing that steroids fuck up the immune system, without the essential antibiotics to protect a vulnerable body. Ergo: I have been getting every nasty little bug known to man so that my GP can remain happy in the fact that he is not over-prescribing expensive drugs.

My new GP diagnosed a long present lung infection and prescribed antibiotics as well as the steroids necessary for tissue growth.  If the drugs don't work I'm looking at a trip to hospital for intravenous antibiotics before the pneumonia kills me. All because a doctor didn't want to prescribe the right drugs at the right time. He was probably too busy thinking about his golfing holiday courtesaey of the drugs reps.

350,000 people die from respiratory diseases every year, a lot of them unnecessarily.  863,000 GP's go on drug company funded holidays in return for prescribing their wares... Unnecessarily.

That is why I am grumpy.

I'm so fucking grumpy that I am staying alive for the next 60 years to complain about it.

Million Mask March bollocks.

A few hundred 'anti capitalism' bods are marching in London as I write this.

Photograph: Jack Taylor/AFP/Getty Images

Such is their blind determination to champion the rights of the underclass that they fail to see the irony in the fact that they are all wearing masks made by children in sweat shops in the far East. Thus making a tidy sum for the capitalist masters that they claim to despise.

Vegan Black Pudding.

WARNING. This post may go beyond the realm of good taste.

From Rusty McGlint's soon to be published 'Christian Creationist Feminist Vegan Cookbook'.

As a transgender feminist Vegan I am often asked about acceptable alternatives to pork products. After much consultation with fellow feminists, Chief Rabbi's, Vicars and hippy mothers I can safely say that this recipe answers the breakfast needs of all vegetarians and Vegans.

It is important to point out that as a creationist I absolutely believe that Man was created separately from all animals and stands alone as a class; human flesh is therefore safe from all vegetarian/Vegan rules.

It is easy to make; look up any black-pudding recipe, substitute human blood for pigs blood and spare adipose tissue ( cleverly recycling the by-product of liposuction) for the fat. Hippy Earth Mothers will find this a delicious and simple way of cooking that placenta.

There are many non-animal sausage tubes on the market which are perfectly good for stuffing the mixture into but I prefer to use the tube bits of the placenta, which I tightly stuff before forming into a neat vagina shape.

British police to be allowed to look up womens skirts.

Theresa May is about to announce that British police will be allowed to look up women's skirts in future either by using their highly polished toe-caps or by using cameras concealed in their turn-ups.

Ms May, when questioned, stated: I have to look up David Cameron's arse every time I kiss it and I have no problem with that, neither am I offended when described as the contents of my underpants; if I am going to be openly scrutinised as primary female genitalia so should every-one else.

Who is Earl Okin?

Transparent bags reduce recycling among drunken middle class homes.

My domestic science corespondent Rusty McGlint informs me that people are embarrassed to put all their wine and spirits bottles along with beer cans in the transparent council recycling bags as it opens them to accusations of alcoholism from neighbours.

This is a middle class phenomenon as most working class people are proud of their alcohol intake as well as their ability to afford copious quantities of booze; some poor households are known to collect bottles and cans from the street in order to 'bulk out' their recycling bags. Dom Perignon bottles are highly desirable in certain areas where a well filled recycling bag can have a marked affect on house prices.

Why can we not have bags that hide our drinking habits?

Michael Woods - Surrealist: Interview.

Second Pier deserts Mr Whippy.

Blackpool pier announced today that it will no longer allow Labourite 'Mr Whippy' to sell his 'mad' ice cream on the victorian structure. 'Lordy Grabbit; owner of the decaying structure explained that the pier was used mostly by courting couples looking for a quiet place for an al fresco shag and that 'We have nothing in common whatever with Mr Whippy – and I don’t believe his product which is both working class and dated is ever going to cause an erection.”

Shock and horror among fans as Bob Dylan goes eclectic.

There were cries of 'Judas' at the Royal Albert Hall when Dylan opened his residency there a couple of days ago etc etc etc...

                              

                               Photo nicked from: www.theartsdesk.com

facebook is the Social Network crack dealer. Real friends come free.

He tells you his product is cool
he tell you it's hip:
'hey come take a trip'
it's on me, I'm buying, it's cool.

Once you are hooked he owns you.

He tells you if I leave you you'll die
you'll have no friends
you'll get the social bends
but I'll give them back if you buy

The friends that used to come free: In the days when we didn't measure our popularity by the number of strangers we now consider friends. All at the expense of friends we now consider strangers because they ain't on facebook.

If you want to remain friends with your facebook strangers it will cost you $10.00 per month.

I think you will find that your real friends come free.