The Death Of A Clown- Bush’s Last U.N. Gig

He has been the world’s top stand up comedian for the past eight years but the curtain is about to come down on the career of George W Bush. The talent who gave us so many catchphrases that slipped into the public consciousness is about to disappear. We will not quickly forget phrases like Warren Turrr, Pepl of Evelyn Tent, Funny Mentalists and Sewer Side Bummers but where will the new comedy that musty follow him come from?

George W performed his last gig this week at New York’s premier comedy club, the UN General Assembly and showed none of the magic has gone. In a set that appeared to be totally off the cuff and unrehearsed the old trouper showed he can still send the audience into hysterics by putting surreal interpretations on tragic setbacks. He knocked ‘em dead with lines like this as he looked back on the highlights of the last eight years:
“Two of my great triumphs were in turning Iraq and Afghanistan from tyrannies that sponsor terror into democracies that fight it.”

A mere comic journeyman like myself could never aspire to write lines like that. We’ll miss ya Dubya.

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Rachel and the K Factor.

Thank f*** for the return of the X Factor. With politicians on holiday and the world drifting towards war, economic meltdown and environmental catastrophe it promised to be a bleak period for satirical bloggers. And to be honest, taking the piss out of the Olympic Games was getting a bit tedious. No challenge you see, it’s too easy.

Then the X Factor burst back onto out screens, sans Shaton, I mean Sharon, but with a new judge who does not want to say anything nasty (coz that’s Simon’s job) about the dickheads who turn up to audition.

The first part of the show was great, the Manchester audition was wall to wall nutters. Well that’s Manchester for you, and we wouldn’t want it any other way.

Just as I was beginning to think the whole show was devoted to dingbats Rachel arrived. Gorgeous Rachel Nixon, pretty and bubbly, slim and shapely, woke the show up. Never mind that she pronounces “nothing as “nuffink” after all it’s The X Factor.

When Rachel announced she is 26 everyone was a bit gobsmacked. When she said she’d had five children, the eldest aged thirteen, everyone was very gobsmacked. When she opened her mouth and sand everyone was totally gobsmacked.

Win or lose in The X Factor Rachel could have a glittering showbiz career as a singer or presenter ahead. She just needs to understand The K Factor. If a girl wants to get on in life she must learn to keep her knickers on.

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Ant and Dec killed my faith in humanity.

I knew years ago that we couldn’t trust politicians, bankers, lawyers, accountants and bosses so I thought I was pretty hardened against the failings of human beings.

But Ant and Dec? If you can’t trust them you can’t trust anyone.

Andrew Looks For A Nancy

I have not been going on very well for a while now so the new Andrew Lloyd Webber TV showbiz talent thing has only dawned on me gradullay.

In the same way he found his Maria for The Sound of Music and his Joseph for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat Lord Andy L-W is now getting a lot of pre publicity for a new production of Oliver by holding a televised elimination contest to find a Nancy for the production.

But with Graham Norton and John Barrowman involved in the TV series aren’t there already more than enough Nancys?

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.

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Tom Cruise Wins Highest Honour of scientology

Boggart Blog’s long running campaign to bring to the attention of the public the leading role played by Hollywood Micro-megastar Tom Cruise (4’6”) in the sinister Church of Scientology cult is finally vindicated. Month’s ago we sent our undercover invisible investigative reporter Soft Mick to obtain evidence. Now we are frequently disappointed with the outcome of Mick’s assignments as he always gets the information but instead of bringing it back to the office to give us an exclusive but being a creature composed of electromagnetic echoes he gets caught up in an electrical storm or collides with a radio transmitter and the information is broadcast throughout the global communications networks. This time the story landed of You Tube. Still, if we employed humans, not only would they be at a disadvantage against the Thetans, the alien superbeings Scientologists believe themselves to be human manifestations of, they would also be prone to being lured into pubs. This is what happened to the BBC (Boggart Blog Cub) reporter last time we sent him on an assignment.
But enough of my complaining about the problems a blog editor has managing supernatural and human staff, back to the story.
The video footage that appeared on You Tube showed a filmed interview intended only for release to neophyte Scientologists in which Tom talks about the Freedom Medal of Valour, Scientology’s top award, which looks uncannily like one of those super hero medallions kids used to get free with chewing gum. Only eighty Scientologists have been awarded the medal which perhaps indicates a shortage of chewing gum. Strangely the recipients are mostly high profile celebrities from the world of sport, television or showbiz.
A spokesthetan for the Church of Scientology explained, “ The medal is awarded because Cruises’ humanitarian work reached a larger global population. Skipping over the obvious question “Which larger globe are we talking about?” we have to say that Scientologists are rather fetishistic about medals and awards. This all seems to stem from their founder L. Ron Hubbard feeling miffed because he did not get as many medals as he thought he should for service in the U.S. Military in WW2.
The puppyish excitement (how gay is that?) Cruise showed when speaking of his award reminded us of Muttley’s behaviour when given a medal by Dick Dastardly in that cartoon spin off from Whacky Races, Stop The Pigeon or something.
We must not forget however, as well as being a leading Scientologist Tom Cruise is still one of the most highly paid stars in the movies. Or was…
We hear his next film project is Mission Impossible 22 – Rescue Your Career

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The Tolpuddling of Robbie Williams

Robbie Williams has tried to follow Madonna and Kylie Minogue in propping up fading celebrity status and prolonging a flagging showbiz career career by reinventing himself. We can’t see how his latest incarnation as a martyr to the Capitalist system is going to sell records though. Robbie has gone on strike, he refuses to make records while wearing the fetters on contractual slavery. This martyrdom has been brought about by his record company, which agreed to pay him £80 million for four albums, telling him the contract requires him to make decent records that sell, whereas his last album consisted of him standing in front of a mic. talking about how absolutely effing great he is, which is basically what his live gigs consist of, apart from the breaks where Robbie invites the audience to sing his songs while he applauds their efforts. But Robbie never was much for music.
Robbie counters by saying the album Rudebox didn’t sell because the record company did not work hard enough at promoting it. Nothing to do with the fact it was universally slammed as being pure, self-indulgent shite then?

And there our would be working class hero is hoist by his own petard which is very apt if you know that petard comes from the same Latin root as petomaine, the name of the French music Hall artist whose virtuosos anal sphincter renderings of great works of classical music made him the highest paid entertainer in the world. That Latin word, pedere, means to break wind and Robbie has always been a stupid little fart.

So the stupid little fart, in blaming his record company has admitted he is a creation of the hype machine.

This is why the martyr act will fall on deaf ears; James Brine, James Hammett, George Loveless, George’s brother James Loveless, George’s brother in-law Thomas Standfield, and Thomas’s son John Standfield, the original martyrs of the trade union movement were agricultural labourers, not fat dancers from boy bands. They went on strike for a wage of ten shillings a week and would simply have been unable to understand that in the future a talentless twat would be paid millions for standing on stage telling the world what a stupendously large cock he has.

As farm workers they would have been familiar with the smell Williams gives off as he tries to preserve his career by appealing to erstwhile fans to feel sorry for him.

Too late Robbie, they’ve all seen through you.

Parky of the Dead

The Parkinson show last night was a reprise of all the great musical moments of the host’s thirty five years fronting a television chat show.
Featured performers included Sammy Davis Jnr. Frank Sinatra, Duke Ellington, Mel Torme, Oscar Petersen, Fred Astaire, Dean Martin, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, Luciano Pavarotti and Bing Crosby.

I have to say it proved, if there was any doubt, what an awesome broadcaster the man is. Who else would all those dead showbiz luminaries people turn up for?

The Sexism of Showbiz Magicians

One of the last bastions of male supremacy is the Magic Circle, that exclusive boys club for stage and end-of-the-pier magicians. Few women have ever been admitted and one of the leading women at present, the excellent prestidigitator Faye Presto is a transsexual.
Traditionally, the woman’s role is showbiz magic has been to lift heavy boxes, wear scanty clothes, pose, grin, get cut in half and disappear.
One woman who has been trying to get into the magic circle for years complains “people just assume I’m the glamorous assistant. Its kind of sexist, the girls do all the work while the magician just waves his wand.”
And when she puts it like that, you understand magic is just a metaphor for the reproductive process.

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