Afghanistan, Financial Crisis, Climate Change – Forget it, Katie Price has quit the jungle.

Big news today is nothing to do with any of the major crises happening around the world, not with a government in meltdowm or the most frightening story, the one about new EU Prez. Van Rumpy Pumpy pledging to steer the union towards a system of global governance, a world government. You will not find that one reported anywhere in mainstream media although it is the news item thinking people should want to know about.

No, the big news today is that Katie Price, the slapper formerly known as Jordan has quit – ahem – “reality” television show I’m a celebrity, give me some wonga.

The return of Katie Price to the show’s line up (she first ate Kangaroo testicles a few years ago so must have a taste for them) was a surprise that had been trailered for a month before the show started.

The public always hates a shameless publicity seeker and by the time Katie arrived at base camp and the votes for who gets to eat worms, grubs, bollocks, eyeballs and shit began it was obvious the punters were going to give the pneumatic one a hard time. They had ben wound up to do so.

Day after day she was elected (more democratically than the EU President it has to be said) to stick her head in buckets of eel slime, cavort with rats (and we’re not talking about Joe Bugner there) crawl through caverns of cockroaches, shimmy with snakes and get covered in shit until finally, right on cue which proves she had read the script even if she has never read any of her own books, Katie’s resolve was broken.

Official rumour has it that a leak from the production team forewarned her she would have to eat the festering carcass of a dead wombat in the next trial. Unofficial rumour has it that the deal was she suffered ritual humiliation in return for lots of camera time and a chance to show her vulnerable side and then feigned an emotional breakdown and walked out on full pay.

So what is Boggart Blog trying to tell you all here? That reality television has become even more cynical and manipulative since the premium phone lines scams were shut down?

We would not dream of such a thing.

If anybody is thinking of saying they can’t believe I watch such rubbis, I have not watched a single program. Five minutes on a web celebrity gossip ite give me all I need to know. I might slag off reality TV but I’ve never said Boggart Blog is not cynical and manipulative. One of my biggest successes at American site was an review of the book How To Talk About Books You Haven’t Read by Pierre Bayard which I reviewed without having read it.

How To Talk About Books You Hanve Not Read
Bread and Circuses and Reality TV

Boggartblog Christmas Quiz, Question 1

Title and Author of the original story from this TV listing.

“An Italian trader enters into a business deal with a moneylender, but faces dire consequences if he fails to keep his part of the bargain.”

He could even be forced to part with his Porsche!

Answers on a postcard, please!

A virtual bottle of Lidl’s best Asti Spumante to the first correct answer opened.

And the Beeb says it is not dumbing down.

I Love Mr. Al Fayed

We should all love Mohammed Al Fayed. His outburst is court and his repeated assertions that Phil The Greek is a gangster and a nazi are the rantings of someone who has gone past grief and is just plain bonkers in the head.

But isn’t it fun watching the establishment squirm.

Boggatrt Blogs wish for the spring: call us sadistic if you like possums, but wouldn’t it be perfect if the next celebrity wedding we report was between Mohammed Al Fayed and Heather Mills McCArtney?

Dicktoria Beckham, Wannabe Penis Owner.

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want.
Well tell me what you want, what you really, really want?
I wanna wanna wanna twenty five foot penis.

Dear, ditzy Victoria aka Posh Spice (where would us comedy bloggers be without her?) has done it again. The most lost in showbiz of the Spice Girls could not have gone to lie in a more appropriate place than LALAland, capital of the celebrity culture.

But has California made her madder or has she made Flake City U.S.A. even more out of the loop than it was before?

Asked in an interview how she felt about husband David’s position in the celebritocracy currently being boosted by an advertising campaign in which he is pictured in a pair of guzzies that can only be described as the male equivalent of a Wonderbra Victoria again demonstrated her tenuous grip on reality.
I’m proud to see his penis twenty five feet tall, plastered over all these advertising billboards,” she said, adding “it’s huge, its massive, if I had a twenty five foot penis I would walk through the streets in my panties to show it off.”
Calm down Dicktoria, if you do ever acquire a penis I’m afraid you will be very disappointed with the range of actual sizes available.

MORE humour every day from Boggart Blog

Bog Butter: The Mystery of Mum’s Fridge

Most followers of Boggart Blog will know by now that co-author fatsally and I share a mother. And you may have noticed some recent banter about the high security around our mum’s fridge. Now the sympathetic souls among you will probably have shaken your heads and muttered, “Insensitive little ingrates, don’t they know old people have to watch the pennies?” But there is more to it than that.

Last week as the team were dossing about the editorial office the BBC spotted a story coming in on the feeds about a new find of Bog Butter. The background said this mysterious substance, found packed in containers of animal hide or wood and hidden in peat bogs has turned up all over Scotland and Ireland. it has a waxy texture and analysis has shown it to be a mix of lard, tallow and dairy fat. Amazingly, though 2000 years old it is still edible.

“Archaeologists connect the mystery find with iron age culture and are hoping to find remains of a significant prehistoric settlement in the area,” Boggart Blog Cub concluded reading the report aloud.

Fatsally and I exchanged a knowing look and said in chorus, “iron age my arse, Mum’s been clearing her fridge out again.

You see our Dear Old Mum is now one of those people who has become more of a hoarder as she got older. Despite having Bohemians as parents she is of that mindset that cannot tolerate waste particularly of stuff that was once food. So while FS and I did benefit in some ways from this as children, for example leftover mashed potatoes were made into potato cakes and slathered with butter (delish) we were also required to eat some truly antique food. The Chinese delicacy One Hundred Year Old Eggs was nothing to us, we ate One Hundred Year Old Toast.

If we helped ourselves to an apple from the fruit bowl we would be told, “you should ask first, money does not grow on trees,” to which we would reply, no Mum, but apples do and these grew in our garden.

So bog butter is no mystery to us, having filled the fridge with leftovers she can’t bear to throw away, mum occasionally has to make room for extra stuff. And she blends her fats, packs them and drops them in a Scottish or Irish bog that the coach must pass while taking The Dancing Dowagers of Morecambe on one of their mini holidays. In this way she has handed on the substance to postertity and it is not wasted. In Mum’s young days there was never any spare money about, as she always reminds us when confronted with out extavagant ways. You rather get the feeling that Mum liked the idea of there being “no spare money about” as poverty did not prevent her Dad hurtling round the North West in a Bull-nosed Morris Oxford in the 1920s and 30s.

You see even now, in these affluent times, Mum is “careful. She never throws anything away, all things keep indefinitely in the freezer thus when she does shuffle off this mortal coil (which will be a good while if we can keep her from eating the stuff she has been saving,) we hope to find some valuable treasures in her fridge. The world’s oldest sausage, a hunk of bread left over from The Last Supper maybe or even one of the cakes burned by King Alfred. Any of those could put us in the dosh.

Ancient Sprouts Are Not Just For Christmas

NEW humour every day from Boggart Blog

Britishness for Dummies (with quiz)

There has been a lot of talk about Britishness recently, most of it centring on the willingness of migrants to integrate by accepting British ways and customs.

would be immigrants have gone so far as to convert to Christianity in order to prove they are genuine in their acceptance of British values. To counter this Immigration officials have developed a set of questions aimed at weeding out the apostates by testing their knowledge of British customs and traditions.

Among these are:
How would you go about cooking a Christmas Turkey?
What kind of decorations would you put on a Christmas Tree.
How should Christmas pudding be served

Now apart from the misapprehension that Christmas is a purely British thing, that Turkey is a traditional British Christmas treat (its actually very recent) and that Britain is a Christian nation, the Immigration people need to understand a few things. Christmas Trees are of course a pagan tradition from Germany, introduced by Prince Albert around a hundred and fifty years ago, goose is centre of the traditional British Christmas mean and erm, well, most of us haven’t been to church since our granny’s funeral so if the Immigration people were right we would quickly solve the housing crisis by deporting more than half the population.

Find out how British you are. Take the Boggart Blog Britishness quiz.

1 What is the motto on the Royal Arms
a)Dieu et mon droit
b) Britannia rules the waves
c) ‘ere we go ‘ere we go ‘ere we go

2 Who is the husband of the head of the Royal family
a) Prince Phillip of Battenberg
b) Ricky Tomlinson
c) Some greasy foreign bastard

3) What is Britain’s favourite food
a) Chicken Tikka Masala
b) Fish and chips
c) anything so long as it is boiled to destruction

4) If you draw a line from the Mersey to the Humber which side of that line can the best beer and the best football teams be found.
a) south of the line
b) north of the line
c) what are the Mersey and the Humber?

And about our European neighbours. Tell us what you think of:

5) The French ?

a) The cultural ties between our nations are so strong that though we are
different nations politically we are truly one people.
b) They eat a lot of garlic but their accents are sexy
c) They’re a bunch foreign bastards

6) The Italians ?

a) The Romans brought to these islands culture, civilisation, law and
language. Italy’s role in the forming of western culture is immeasurable
b) Anyone who gave us Lasgne and Ferraris can’t be bad
c) They’re a bunch of foreign bastards

7) The Germans ?

a) German philosophy has changed the way we view the world while
their technical innovations have provided indispensable tools for industry
b) They’re very clean and efficient
c) Two world wars and one world cup.

8) The Belgians ?

a) A small nation of educated, tolerant people who have contributed much in
the fields of art and science.
b) They make nice chocolate
c) Who?

9) A question on British culture. Which was the best Morcambe and Wise Christmas
special ever?

c) They were a couple of nancy boys, I prefer Alf Garnett.

10 Who was the greatest Briton ever

a) Shakespeare
b) Winston Churchill
c) Homer Simpson

How do you rate?

Mostly As and Bs.
Foreigner, you lot think you can come here and have an easy life claiming
benefits and living in council houses. You seduce our women and cause NHS
waiting lists by turning up at hospital for free treatment every time you have
a hangover and support foreign football teams like Chelsea and Tottenham. Clear off, there’s nothing here for the likes of you.

Mostly Cs
Congratulations. You are British through and through in fact you are probably a member of the BNP, have a bulldog tattooed on your arse and support West Ham United (even if you are a northerner). This precious pearl set in a silver sea is the home of Kings and heroes and it is YOUR home too.
So we can expect you to cheer loudly when we close all the Indian, Chinese
and Italian restaurants, ban the import of German and Spanish beer and Japanese cars. You will be delighted when we ban cheap clothes from China and you have to pay £75 for a pair of Levis because you are proud to be BRITISH.

BTW The proper way to cook Brussels sprouts for Christmas dinner is to put them on Nov. 5th and keep them simmering until December 25th. The proper way to cook a Christmas turkey is forget to defrost it and have sausage sandwiches with brown sauce.

You Shall Know Them By Their “Ears”.

It was only a matter of time before The boy-boobs David Cameron let slip the “man of the people” mask and revealed his true self, posh boy, Tory boy, Old Etonian. The Tory leader has been stomping around proclaiming his egalitarian and multiculturalist credentials in the shires but in a speech last week he exposed himself to criticism from the cultural minorities. And as a result he was accused of holding the faiths and cultures of minorities in contempt.
We have to be fair to The Boy-boobs Dave here though. After all he comes from a class that is genetically predisposed to hold everything in contempt. So as Boggart Blog is committed to true democracy let us explain how you can recognise Cameron’s class and thus avoid judging them too harshly.
You Shall Know Them By Their Ears.
To us down to earth folk ears are just the funny squiggly things on the side of the head but to Cameron’s class “ears” is a way of giving an affirmative answer while indicating that having to speak to the person one is answering arouses in one an emotion akin to the disgust and loathing felt at discovering dogshit on one’s shoe. e.g.:
“Mr Cameron, do you think the Conservatives will win the next election?”
“……Ears, of cworse we will.”
You see what I mean?
Another way to spot the upper crust is by the way they stick a “ph” in front of the “w” sound, as is “phwhat, phwhy, phwhere and phwhen”, e.g. “phwhy am Ay being arsked such stupid questions?”
You see phwhat I mean?
The other major tell is the “y” sound. The Upper Crust really have problems with this one, generations of inbreeding have caused their vocal cords to mutate causing lots of problems with vowels or “viles.” Thus they have to resort to replacing “y” with “argh”, “o” with “wah” and “u” with anything that comes to hand, e.g.:
“Ay reallargh, high awbsaylewteleargh spiffing.”
We should really differentiate between omicron (little o) and omega (big O) though. Big O, like I can be pronounced as “ay” while little o is usually left unmolested. If you were to say to an upper-crustie “we were just about to have some toast, whould you care to join us?” they might reply, “Ay reallyargh, tayste, phwhat an awbsaylewtelargh splendid ideargh. Ears, Ay’d lahve tay jayne yew.”
You se what I mean?
Composite vowels or viles do not escape ritual mangling either, the upper crust are as enthusiastic about murdering vowels as murdering small furry animals. We have all seen Boy boobs Cameron “wriding his bwaysaykwel arind Lawndon, trizers tucked in his swarcks as he makes his way to the Hice of Cwommons.
By now I’m sure some people are bristling with iterage as they grumble “whom does this northern oik think he is, mwocking his betters in such a wude manner simpleargh becwause they knay hay tay speak properlargh.
But posh people do not speak properly, their is an accent just as Cockney, West Country, Brummie and Geordie. Worse, it is an affected accent, having not evolved from Middle English but been developed by sycophantic courtiers in the time of King George II who could hardly speak the language of the nation he ruled. Sycophantic courtiers could hardly be seen to correct their King by pronouncing his mangled vowels correctly so they began to imitate him.
Reallargh, that is phwhat they did.
Alert minds amongst you will have noticed that above I misused “whom.” This was a lead in to a lower stratum of irritatingly posh people, those who say “whom “ when they mean “who” and I or “Ay” when they mean “me.” They also use an aspirated a, “ah” when a short “a” is called for. Thus they think their middle clahss status is demonstrated. These are classic (not clahssic) mistakes.
Those are the “would like to be posh but are a bit insecure about their status” stratum of society. We shall look at their speech patterns another time.
We have come a long way from Cameron’s ears, but the message should be clear. Do not be fooled by the contempt of the posh and wannabee posh. It is they who are to be pitied, not us.