This is the end... my only friend, the end...

It had to happen sooner or later I suppose. After almost 2 years of whining, I have run out of things to whine about. Or maybe, I have become resigned to my fate, and the fate that awaits us all. When I see something infinitely stupid, cruel or patently unfair occurring, I simply shrug. My blood should boil when I read about the idiotic girl who had a child at 12 and has said it "was the best thing what I ever done" - because, now, at 22, she can go clubbing, and she is a size 6, whereas all her friends are 'fat'. Some friend. I could rant and rave about the seemingly endless deluge which has been masquerading as the English summer this year, but why bother. Things will annoy me whether I acknowledge them or not.

So, I think I have said all that I need to say. I no longer feel compelled to share it. The world has changed around me, and has become a cunt. I have no desire to change with it. I no longer try to fathom the young people who walk around looking so odd, or how Christine Bleakley is still in gainful employment. What led me to this fateful decision? It's my own fault really. Because I am sooo anally-retentive, I was determined to write one article per week. It was easy at first, vitriol flowing from my spindly fingers as I inexpertly deconstructed things that probably annoyed only me. But, after a while, I was struggling to think of suitable sublect matter. I barrel-scraped to the point where all that was coming up was wood shavings. I am spent. Done. Sorry about that.

I will write the occasional post, if something manages to be that annoying that it overwhelms my apathy shield, although I guarantee nothing, liberated as I am from my own self-imposed schedule of misery. Thanks for reading, and sorry for giving up on this, as I have pretty much every endeavour I have ever undertaken. The rusting Scirocco in my garage will attest to that.

Fuck off.

Glad that the bloody band was banned

Supporting (or even having a casual interest in) England's workmanlike football team has long been a source of agony, interspersed with occasional cruel glimpses of hope, which have been dashed at every turn. The last time England won anything was before substitutes were introduced, and goalkeepers probably still smoked and ate cream cakes during the game. Football of that era is now so distant is is incomparable with the modern game. So, in reality, England have never won anything in terms of what football is now.

They have been particularly poor in European competitions, with their best performance in the modern era being the semi-final appearance in Euro '96, which ended in inevitable penalty defeats to ze Chermans and caused brainless thugs to smash up any car that sounded vaguely German, including Volvo(!). Since those relatively halcyon days, England performances have mainly been confined to squandering possession, huffing and puffing a lot and smashing hopeful shots into the stratosphere from 60 yards. Then 'plan B' usually starts 10 minutes after kick-off as they wilt in the heat; and involves either the goalie or centre-half lumping the ball onto the noggin of some guile-less forward.

I'm not overwhelmed by how England play, and that much is pretty evident from my previous paragraph, I guess. So I was pleasantly surprised by England's performance against the cowardly and supremely arrogant French in the opening group game. They did attempt to run with the ball (a technique those in the continent call 'dribbling') and even strung about 5 passes together before panicking and letting the other team have a go. Hodgson seems to have them well-drilled and has given license to the few decent players we possess to do something inspirational. The atmosphere seemed better, too; and then it dawned on me: The bloody England band was conspicuous by its absence.

South Africa 2010 was obviously the worst world cup ever, marred as it was by the sound of a billion vuvuzelas being blown by the locals and well-meaning foreigners adopting the 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' mantra. It was bloody awful. Every England game in recent memory has been marred in the same way, by the stupid England supporter's band. They are shite. If I wanted to hear the 'Great Escape' theme being torturously rendered 100 times in the space of 90 minutes then they would be the best band ever, but unfortunately I don't so they aren't.

Synonymous with failure, the band are all that can be heard as England are assailed by superior passing, movement and technical ability, which hushes the crowd to worried murmurs. Then, like an unwelcome phoenix, the sound of tinny trumpets and inexpertly banged drums rises to fill the panicked void, punctuated by the occasional half-hearted cry of 'England', as the sozzled supporters empty their bowels while the pressure builds. The band do not help matters at all. They merely annoy those watching the game on the telly, and they must make the supporters in the ground want to kill them.

So thank god then (for I now believe that there is a god, based on this act of benevolence alone) That the Ukrainian security did not let the band ruin yet another football match. They quite rightly told them to fuck off, which was a genius move. Hopefully they will not be allowed to play ever again. The band is basically a collection of trumpet players who can't play the trumpet, and drummers who cannot drum in time with each other. There is something quintessentially English about that, and it is something outmoded and embarrassing we need to discard, like racism or the royal family.


A Right Royal pain in the arse

There are certain things in life which I know other people enjoy, but which I hate. OK, perhaps 'certain things' doesn't quite encapsulate my rather broad distaste of pretty much everything, but then I don't care. I have never really had much affection for the Royal family, because they are as irrelevant as they are costly. They all have the look of a family who has intermarried one time too many. Yet, apparently what makes us all so quintessentially British, is the fact that we are ruled by a bunch of slightly mutated and deranged Germans.

I also have a long-held distaste of any live music events, and - more specifically - festivals. Again, I know that there are people who like nothing better than decamping into a shit-riddled field to stand in torrential rain listening to some pretentious band belt out their tunes. It probably helps that festival goers are off their faces at the time, either by chemical means, or just 'high on life' as they jump up and down to some insipid Coldplay number, listening to Chris Martin trying to anaemically sing his way through yet another advert-friendly anthem.

So, above, are 2 things I have very little time for. Unfortunately, both were to fatefully collide on the bank Holiday monday just gone as I was ushered to a bloody park against my will, ostensibly to watch a bunch of geriatrics perform for another geriatric who has had the serendipitous fortune to have her pampered arse wiped by the state for 60 long years. Standing there in a muddy field, packed with people I just wanted to murder in horrific ways, I then realised that the 'concert' I had been hoodwinked into attending was not a concert at all, instead, we would be watching a large telly in the middle of a soggy field, for reasons which defied all logic.

For over 3 hours, I witnessed people cheering and whooping at a bloody telly. I concede that the telly was pretty big, but it was still just a telly. The acts on the telly couldn't hear the responses, but yet the cheering continued. To rub salt into the wound, it wasn't like we were watching some exclusive broadcast of the event - they just piped regular BBC 1 (not even HD) onto a big bloody telly. There were even the type of glitches you have come to expect when watching a 'freeview' service, and there were a few occasions where the picture was lost all together, with an error message being booed at by thousands of inebriated orangutans.

I was bored. I spent some time playing games on my phone, then I realised that I had just one game. I looked at my watch continuously. Time didn't advance. I tried to guess what part of London people came from by only their appearance. The West Londoners had posh faces and big hair and goofy teeth and ethnic jewellery. The South Londoners all looked like they should be in prison. The East Londoners were all orange and walked like Danny Dyer. The North londoners all looked like utterly pretentious little cunts who deserved the slowest and most painful of deaths.

That amused me for an hour, then I spent the last hour scenario planning, and wondering when we could leave to avoid the mental rush to the tube. Thankfully, Paul McCartney came on. As the granny-faced weasel played some good Beatles records interspersed with some terrible Wings ones, I frogmarched my 'posse' to the tube and we left. At least there won't be another sodding Jubilee for 10 years.

Crane Stupid

Leonardo DiCrapio first appeared in the public spotlight when he starred in a clutch of films prior to his major breakthrough, which was Romeo and Juliet. One of these films was 'The Basketball diaries' which was about his descent from a promising young basketball player to a drug-addled rentboy who had a propensity to nosh off old men in public toilets. Perhaps he had experiences of this from his early 'casting' sessions. It is actually a pretty good film, so you should probably watch it, and if you are a paedophile you will certainly be wearing your 'pause' and 'slow motion' buttons out! Di Caprio rightly received a lot of praise for this role, but he also got rave reviews for his performance in another film, which I just cannot understand.

 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape' is a strange title for a strange film. It has Johnny Depp in it, looking suitably emo/moody (delete as appropriate) as well as a young Leo who plays some sort of retard. He received many plaudits for basically taking the piss. I may well go to hell for this, but me and my pals used to pretend we were 'mongs' by making dumb noises and stuff, because we were horrible little scrotes. But any bloke who tells you that he has never imitated someone with a mental disability is a LIAR. They are the same blokes who profess that they have never watched porn. LIARS. You know who you are.

Anyway, it soon transpires that 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape' is probably his mother, who is sooo morbidly obese that, upon dying, she is lifted out of her house by a crane, because she is too massive to be removed by any other means. I remember watching that poignant scene about 15 years ago, and through my unbridled tears of laughter thinking 'this could never happen'. A bit later, I became aware that this kind of thing DID in fact happen, albeit in America. A common response to improbable stories about individual greed and hubris is 'Only in America', which is what I thought to myself as I digested this news, and then forgot all about it and probably had a massive wank.

Only it's not only in America anymore. This morning, my effeminate jaw literally hit my desk as I read about a 19-year old girl from Wales who recently fell ill and required an ambulance. I suppose that in itself is pretty unremarkable. But what perplexed me is why it took 30 people 8 hours to extricate her from her house? The reason, my chums, is that the girl in question is 63 stone. Of the people, some were builders, who had to knock down 2 walls just to provide enough clearance to remove her from the house. I would imagine that the remainder were there to try and lift her, presumably using one of those harnesses that they put beached whales in.

People have a staggering attitude to obesity. Waddling heart attacks like Beth Ditto are applauded for 'not conforming', yet the irony is that you will have to be of a healthy weight to 'not conform' soon. Are we that sensitive that we would rather turn into a nation of mega-fatties than maintain healthy lifestyles? Most people believe that obesity is some type of insidious disease that comes along and turns otherwise healthy people into gargantuan monsters overnight. 'It's genetic!' they protest, as they stuff their cavernous gullets with chocolate eclairs. Generally, it's not. There are some individuals who have glandular issues, but they probably account for about 0.01% of the fatties out there now. The rest of them are stupid and lazy.

Why is obesity a seemingly human-only affliction? Of all the other ailments which generally affect all of our mammalian brethren, obesity is one of the few that affect us, and only us. That's not strictly true. I have seen obese animals before, but they were all pets, owned by equally-rotund humans. So what's the common denominator here? Could it be... too... much... food? Is that the simple answer to the question which seemingly perplexes so many people today, who 'can't understand' why they are so massive? Is that why 40% of all adult males in the UK are expected to be obese by 2040? Is that why, in poorer nations, obesity generally doesn't exist?

Nah, it couldn't be that simple.

Come back smoking - all is forgiven.

I was idly sitting on my sofa, contemplating my own demise the other day as the dreary rain lashed down my outdated double-glazed windows, when I again started to think about the futility of it all. Perhaps it is best, I mused, if the entire Shittish isles ends up submerged in water, with a 500 square mile floating mound of rubbish being the only marker that we were ever here. It's because I've been thinking about everything going wrong again - people eating too much, demanding too much, and unsustainable rises in population. A morbidly obese, decrepit nation of people who just do not have the good sense to die are ultimately what will kill us all.

On one hand, we have people who are seemingly less healthy and more stupid than ever. On the other, we have advances in medicine which will ensure that these unhealthy walking cadavers will be kept alive for far longer than they naturally would, which means they will need more sustenance to keep their diseased and bloated bodies going. In the middle of this mess, we have a benefits system which perpetually rewards laziness, by flitting away the few remaining taxpayer's hard-earned money. I imagine old people's homes of the future being a series of large barns with corrugated roofs, where slop is endlessly shovelled into rows of gormless mouths belonging to giant oafs who are happy to lie in their own excrement, so long as they can watch Jeremy Kyle repeats for 24 hours a day.

In the midst of my despair, I remembered the faithful cigarette, and started to wonder why it has been treated so harshly by all of us who used to love it. The government has announced plans to do away with branded packaging altogether. Soon, cigarettes will be sold in plain white boxes with a tiny piece of text announcing the brand. A  horrific strapline such as "FOR EVERY CIGARETTE YOU SMOKE, A CHILD IS DECAPITATED' in classic AIDS font will be emblazoned across a grisly picture of some lungs with shit in them. As it is, when people go into petrol garages, they buy and hide cigarettes underneath their porn so others won't judge them. I miss my yellow-fingered chums.

We all know that Nicotine (or possibly Tobacco, I can't be bothered to find out which) is an appetite suppressant. It is perhaps no surprise than, that since smoking has been pretty much criminalised, that waistlines have expanded. Also, we are in the midst of one of the worst recessions ever - it started in 2008, and is still going strong. The smoking ban took effect in 2007. Coincidence? I think not. Also, one less salubrious side effect of smoking is that it does have a tendency to kill you quite young. Well, something needs to, otherwise none of us will actually die until we are well into our 100's. So my plan for saving the human race from obesity, overpopulation and economic ruin is to bring back smoking and make it mandatory. Think about it -  everyone will be svelte, sallow-skinned, and will die at 60. You can thank me later.

What the 2012 FHM '100 sexiest' Poll got wrong

I can't believe it's been a whole year since the advert-heavy spunk rag known as 'FHM' released the results of their annual '100 sexiest women in the world' poll. But, here it is, back again like a malignant tumour that just won't go away. So, have the astue readers of FHM pulled their collective fingers out of their arses, and actually picked some attractive women for a change, or is the list just as jam-packed full of moon-faced harridans as last year? Let's find out.

Tulisa Contostavanosh (1)

Apparently the reward for being the most irritating X-Factor judge yet and letting a stupidly-named man film you whilst he slaps you in the face with his penis is the title of the sexiest woman in the world. All those billions of women on the planet, and not one was adjudged to be sexier than the aforementioned 'singer' and 'TV personality' who 'accidentally leaked' her banal sex tape. Jesus wept. Plus she flashes that bloody awful tattoo whilst doing her X-Factor 'salute' which makes me want to remove her arm with a rusty chainsaw.

Rihanna (3(!!!))

Here she is, still at number 3, and she still looks like she has been smashed in the head repeatedly with a claw hammer. There is not a motorcycle helmet in the world which can adequately circumnavigate her misshapen bonce, which is why Rihanna is never pictured wearing one.

Megan Fox (7)

Poor Megan has dropped 3 places this year, possibly because she has pumped loads of silicone into her face and now resembles a cat. Plus she still has big toes for thumbs.

Emily Atack (10)

Despite having a face like a widescreen telly, Emily climbed a massive 8 places this year, which is no mean feat considering the encumbrance which her massive head introduces. A walking timebomb of repressed fatness waiting to explode once she hits 25.

Pippa Middleclass (11)

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Pippa is not Kate Middleton's mum, and is only a few years older than her sibling. Apparently she has an amazing arse, which I suppose she does, were she a 10-year old boy, and I was a massive paedophile. But she's not and either am I. She has no arse to speak of at all and looks 45.

Jessie J (16)

Just wow. Soaring up from number 55, we have another intensely annoying reality TV 'judge'. This one has the delicate features of a space-hopper, and remains about as sexy as a stick of broccoli, even with most of her clothes removed, which they regularly are. She has the gangly limbs and malevolent glare of a spider.

Rosie Huntington-Whiteley (18)

2012 will fondly be remembered as the year when robots were first allowed to take part in the esteemed FHM poll. Ironically, Rosiebot's breakthrough role come in Transformers, a film about robots in which she plays a human! Lovingly created by Michael Bay and his team of maniacal inventors, Rosiebot is now serviced regularly by Jason Statham. She has all the charisma (and intelligence) of a wet dishcloth.

Cher Lloyd (25)

The annoying bobblehead-made-flesh may have slipped out of the public eye somewhat this year, but it is clear that many lads are still starching their socks over her. She just needs a sex tape to break into the top 10.

Taylor Momsen (29)

This former child star is sooo desperate for people to think that she is all edgy now, which she fails to achieve by saying bruises are cool and how she is really crazy and stuff. Most of the time, she looks like she has fallen head-first into the 'lost property' box of a brothel. She applies eye makeup like a Liverpool fan applies rational thought, which is not very well at all.

Christine Bleakley (58)

Somehow she has climbed from number 93 this year, despite fronting a breakfast show which has been subsequently (and deservedly) axed. How are adolescent lads even aware of her? they are all tucked up in bed until at least 11 am. The early morning stints have made her look even older than before, with her withered face now resembling a tan leather handbag.

Britney Spears (59)

So she's fallen quite a bit, but she still somehow infests the top 100 with her unhinged presence. Bedraggled and unkempt, and she is thicker in the middle than Kerry Katona. Who the hell is shining their jimmy to her these days?

Kate Garraway (97)

Perhaps having a face like the Mekon from 'Dan Dare' turns on the young folk of 2012, who I guess are banging one out to this 'MILF'. They either need their eyes testing, or this is all a big joke, like when fat people get voted for in talent shows.

John Terry - what a stupid cunt

In life, there will always be people we like, and people we don't like. Sometimes there will be disagreements about which individuals are likeable and dislikable which can lead to conflict - thus adding one more 'dislike' to each of the combatant's lists. Thankfully, there are also people out there like John Terry, who everyone agrees (outside perhaps of his immediate family) is a complete tool. Terry finally reached his Nadir when he was sent off playing for Chelsea at the Nou Camp on Tuesday, by trying to weasel his way out of his thuggish behaviour and deserved dismissal. Below, I present an abridged history of Terry's bad behaviour, which has culminated in his latest act of selfish stupidity. I hope you enjoy it.

2001 - As a young man, Terry infamously shouted vile abuse about the decimation of the World Trade Center to passing American tourists, one day after the 9-11 attacks. Most people with a relatively operational moral compass surmised at this point that Terry was a cunt of the highest order. Unfortunately, Chelsea fans were unable to see it, concentrating instead on his previous 'good character' and his relatively young age as reasons for mitigation.

Taunting American people one day after the worst terrorist attack in US history - Check

2008 - Terry would later display the kind of staggering arrogance epitomised by the majority of English footballers when he elected to wedge his massive Bentley into a clearly-marked disabled parking space. He did this despite the availability of an actual car park less than 50 yards away, but then we all know how long it takes Terry to cover 50 yards these days. Never fast in his prime, he now has the pace of an obese walrus. Bloody disabled people don't deserve to eat, anyway. Chelsea fans shrugged this off as an 'honest mistake'.

Complete disregard for people who are not as able-bodied or rich as him - Check

2010 - There has always been something a bit nasty about Terry, or 'JT' as the fawning media called him, back when it was acceptable to laud him as some sort of granite-hewn deity who would put his thick head on the line for club and country. Many admired him for his attitude on the pitch, but his reputation was further stained when he decided to shag the missus of a team-mate who had a kid with her. It goes without saying that Terry had his own wife and kids dutifully waiting at home for him. Chelsea fans merely whistled ignorance when asked about this latest episode of twattery.

Having the morals of a sewer rat and being the worst friend ever - Check

This finally prompted Fabio Capello to strip 'JT' of his captaincy, and people were up in arms. 'It has nothing to do with football!' they would protest, even though he had done the dirty on an erstwhile and potential England team-mate, who had lots of other friends in the England team; clearly it had everything to do with football. I don't remember Bobby Moore 'having a go' on Geoff Hurst's missus back in '66. But then Capello inexplicably gave Terry the England captaincy back, until:

2011 - The immensely likeable England and Chelsea captain is, allegedly a massive racist, who allegedly called Anton Ferdinand some allegedly racist names on several occasions during a game in which his beloved Chelsea lost to the might of QPR. Terry will not answer to these allegations until after Euro 2012, in which England will inevitable get knocked out in the Quarter Finals (if they get that far) and everyone will laugh at Terry's puffy, crying face. Chelsea fans mumbled something about Terry not being racist, before scuttling back to their surrey homes and refusing to answer the door.

Allegedly being a massive, stupid racist idiot - Check

2012 - Until 'That night in Barcelona' (© Clive Tyldesley) 'JT' had represented himself on the pitch reasonably well. That was until he decided to knee an opponent up the plums without apparent provocation, earning a well-deserved red card. Perhaps Terry didn't like the way the guy wasn't looking at him. This left his team to be ran ragged for the best part of an hour with 10 men, who miraculously prevailed without him. It's occasions like these where a 'mea culpa' is required to appease the fans who paid through the nose to watch you.

Unfortunately, Terry decided to come up with an excuse that didn't fool anyone, when he claimed that he had started to run in anticipation of his opponent doing the same, but then didn't. Now I know that Terry is slow, but even he pitches his body forward and moves his arms as he runs. What he doesn't do, is stand perfectly straight, and then violently bring one knee up to a position where testicles may or may not be situated, and then bring it down again, all while sporting the best 'fuck you' expression I have ever seen. Chelsea fans finally realised at this point, that not only is Terry a philandering, allegedly racist twat, he also has no respect for his own supporters, selling them an implausible story rather than be honest about whatever happened that day.

Behaving like a petulant child and thus very nearly ruining your club's chances of progression to a final, and then hilariously backtracking and taking each and every one of your supporters for absolute mugs - Check

I hope that Chelsea now go on to beat Bayern Munich (who made Ronaldo cry - Thanks Bayern!) and that Terry wells up as his team-mates deservedly lift the coveted trophy without him. Have to love karma.

Simon Cowell is categorically NOT gay

Poor Simon Cowell has had to unfairly live with the rumours surrounding his sexuality for years now, ever since his massive, bog-brush head first graced our television screens on Pop Idol. I, for one, have no idea why. This guy is straighter than a judge for Christ's sake. Look how hairy his arms are, for one thing. Thankfully, this week the tawdry gossip regarding his alleged propensity for cocks can be well and truly silenced, with the announcement that he bumped uglies with the lovely Dannii Minogue. More revelations have since come to light thanks to a steamy biography which has detailed his many dalliances (which were with women) over the years.

Apparently Cowell shoehorned Dannii Minogue into the X factor, so that they could have an affair for several months, and this was back in 2007, before Dannii started to look all haggard with that weird nostril thing and her vagina got torn to shreds. Fair play to him. Apparently this put Sharon Osborne's beaky nose out of joint, which made her precisely as angry and deranged as any other day. One can only imagine how the dull-as-dishwater Cheryl Cole got her job on the panel; the audition must have been good, that's all I can say. I'm just glad she got stuck in and didn't choke. He also had full sex with loads of other women as well, because there's nothing he enjoys more than having penetrative sex with women.

The coolest thing about Simon Cowell is how all of his conquests get on like a house on fire, and continue to hold him in high regard. In my experience, this is quite unusual. Cowell must be smoother than a freshly-groomed gay man's rectum to pull that one off. He was engaged to his makeup artist for years, which was doubly handy because once he was done having loads of sex with her, she could then do his nails and make sure his eyebrows looked shapely. They could also go shopping on Rodeo Drive together for hours, for straight men love nothing more than to go shopping with their partners. For some reason, it didn't eventually work out, but they are still very good friends. Simon even let her keep one of his mansions; what a gentleman.

Going back further, there was Terri Seymour, a woman with such wretched vocal chords that she constantly sounded like Marge Simpson after eating gravel cakes. Her very strange voice eventually led to the sad breakup of the couple, who nonetheless remained good friends. As a goodwill gesture, Simon Cowell left her with a helicopter, 2 houses and some ponies. So why is such an eligible bachelor having a hard time settling down? Perhaps he just hasn't found 'the one' yet, maybe because no-one can measure up to his mum, who he speaks to every day. Anyway, I'm glad that the whole UK (and indeed the world) can rest easily knowing that Cowell is definitely NOT gay. Because if there's one place that gay men do not fit in, it's within the realm of showbiz and light entertainment.

'Derek' is just terrible.

Ricky Gervais needs to be careful, for he is rapidly becoming to UK sitcoms what M. Knight Shyamalamalamalamalamalamalan has come to represent in movies. He seems to be on a downward trajectory, just like the mystical Sixth Sense director. 'The Office' was superb, 'Extras' OK, and 'Life is Too Short' merely 'meh', but all have been surpassed in utter awfulness by the complete mess which is 'Derek'. It really is absolutely the worst thing I have seen in ages. It is that disgustingly bad, that I compel all of you to watch it, for you will not believe how truly bad (and very odd) it is.

I am going to try to explain exactly what is wrong with it, but I'm really struggling with where to start, as it is just so very bad in almost every respect. I guess I'll start with the cast. Gervais plays the eponymous lead, and his performance is unsettling to say the least. It is never explained exactly what is wrong with the character, so I'll surmise my own impression: Gervais seems to have watched Rain Man while on Acid because he is definitely channelling some alternate-universe Dustin Hoffman here, a universe in which Hoffman is the worst actor in the world.

You may have seen the second series of Extras, where Gervais' character gets the lead in a terrible sitcom. In the sitcom, Gervais sticks his lower jaw out and walks around like he has been lobotomised - this is exactly how he plays 'Derek'. For this reason, I just couldn't take Derek seriously as a character at all. Also, the pratfalls that Derek sets himself up for are painfully contrived, such as when he leaves his favourite pudding on his chair and than sits on it - oh the hilarity! Or when he falls into a pond, and runs through the house naked, LOL! He event shares a somewhat tenuous grasp of the value of money, again referring back to Dustin Hoffman.

The supporting cast are just as bad. The woman who works in the care home has paper-thin characterisation; we learn that she left school at 16 and has remained at the care home ever since. She is a cliched, typically-downcast little mouse of a woman - she looks like she is about to cry all of the time. Apart from one scene where she inexplicably headbutts a woman who is picking on poor Derek, and for some reason the woman's mates don't stab her to death in retaliation. Nothing about it makes any sense. Karl Pilkington plays - well - himself really, although in this life he is a curmudgeonly caretaker who is permanently depressed. Perhaps his depression stems from having to wear the worst comedy baldy wig of all time; I compel you to watch 'Derek' just so you can see how awful it is for yourself. Whatever you have imagined, will not be as silly as the reality. It doesn't even look stuck on properly.

Thankfully, this episode is just a pilot at the moment, and if anyone has any modicum of sense this will be buried and forgotten about as quickly as Matthew Horne's career. Its execution is so contrived that even the music tries to jar you into some sentimental response. I kept expecting an M-People song to start at any moment; that's how bad it is. At one point an old woman dies, and Gervais rather creepily strokes his own head with her dead hand. It is so very, very terrible, that I actually believe that it is intentional in some way. Here are my top theories as to why Gervais made such a misjudged and unfunny show.

1) If he wants to present the next 'Golden Globes', He is contractually obliged to make something which is at least as bad as Johnny Depp's 'The Tourist', just so he can be teased as well

2) He was forced into playing someone with learning difficulties after his 'mong' comments, so he resentfully made the worst piece of garbage he could conceive of

3) He is an Andy Kauffman-type genius who deliberately set out to make something terrible, and he succeeded beyone his wildest expectations

Anyway, form your own conclusions - I'm sure that it is available somewhere on 4 On Demand to watch, probably on page 60.