Jonathan Ross has never been funny in his stupid life

There are several myths about things that never were, such as the moon landings being fake, Marylin Manson and Paul from the Wonder Years being the same person, and of course the controversy surrounding Princess Diana. Yes, she DID die her hair. Despite being debunked these myths continue to be believed and recycled by websites and print media regularly. Another popular myth is that Jonathan Ross is, or ever was, funny. Jonathan Ross was never funny. I remember when we was on the telly decades ago. Not funny then, not funny now. Speech impediment, yes. Stupid hair and fat wife and stupidly-named kids, yes. Funny, no. Never.

The whole 'Sachsgate' affair from a few years ago was a tawdry episode. Gordon Sachs, who played one of the most offensive racial stereotypes ever with great aplomb in 'Fawlty Towers' and probably did some other stuff that no-one remembers had a fairly plain granddaughter, who Russell Brand had a bit of the sex with. 'Meh' you might justifiably conclude from that, seeing as Brand was swinging his sword around like it was going out of style at the time. But no - Brand, joined by Jonathan Ross aired the whole thing on radio, in a pre-recorded programme which was then inexplicably aired, despite it not being live. Heads rolled as the fallout was felt across the nation. Famine and disaster were shunted to the middle pages as 'Sachsgate' ran as the main story in all of the dailies. Eventually, Sachsgate ran out of steam as everyone went 'meh' and realised what an avaricious little whore Sach's granddaughter was anyway, soaking up the publicity like a saucer-titted sponge.

What seemingly caused offence to people who should have a lot more to worry about was the fact that Brand and Ross left messages on Sach's phone and were perceived to have bullied him. Brand had to fall on his aforementioned sword and resign. But what was more shocking for me was Ross's complete inability to say anything funny. In the entire transcript of the phonecalls, he tried, bless him, but just couldn't be funny. Like a girl trying to change a tyre, it was pathetic to behold. Brand was ad-libbing poems and songs left right and centre while Ross's sole contribution was to swear (maverick) and provide some 'doo-de-doo's and 'dum's.

This got me thinking about a cover-up that has been going on for years. For some reason, Jonathan Ross is commonly perceived to be funny. So I looked at archive footage of Ross searching for any indication that he has ever been funny, but he never has. He has always been annoying and very loud indeed, and that is about it. He is good at being annoying. Whether he is on Celebrity apprentice, annoyingly talking too much and shouting over the other 'celebrities' or on his sadly defunct show, annoyingly talking too much and shouting over the other 'celebrities' he tends to make being annoying look easy. And that is where the skill lies. It takes a lifetime of practise and dedication to be as annoying as Jonathan Ross.

He looks like a camp Musketeer, with his floppy mop and dirty beard. His suits are annoying, being made out of some shiny material or other, a bit of crushed velvet here and there, Zany! He always talks about the fact he collects comics and he bonds with moron rapper Eminem over it, LOL! He called all his kids really wacky and crazy names, ROFL! In his show he had a band of gays called 'Four Poofs and a Piano', well SLAP MY THIGHS!!! He constantly rocks up to film premieres in London with his obese wife, wearing a purple suit and pointy shoes, OH HOW COOL AND NON-CONFORMIST HE IS! And soooooo funny too. wearing his smug and gormless grin like a badge of honour. He is NOT FUNNY, he is a fucking awful hack who is an embarassment and I would rather my TV licence money was spent on 12-year old rent boys for the execs than being wasted on that stupid waste of space.

Huzzah! Jolly Hockey sticks etc

Finally, some reasons to be cheerful. I'm not a royalist by any stretch and the thought of a carnal union between 2 toffee-nosed gits would normally make me retch, but as it is things have worked out quite nicely with all the holidays and whatnot. So for once, I am in a relatively good mood. Prince William is marrying his sweetheart and has even managed to do so before the last piece of candyfloss sellotaped to his slaphead has been carried off by an opportunistic magpie. Is it royal protocol not to shave one's head? Surely he'd look better with a number 0 or failing that, divert some of the money used by Prince Philip's unicorn hunting parties and get the poor chap some hair plugs. I think we should have a referendum regarding royals and skinheads instead of wasting time on this AV rubbish that no-one understands or wants.

In other good news, It is now possible to immerse your whole big toe in the royal gene pool following 2 subsequent generations of not interbreeding and electing to marry 'commoners' instead. But I really feel that the use of commoner is a misnomer; I'm still waiting for Harry to come home with a velour-tracksuited slag with 6 kids, but I fear that will never happen. The 'rags to riches' stories surrounding Kate Middleton are hilarious. Basically, a very rich girl is about to become richer. It's like a real life Cinderella. The way the papers have harped on about it you wouldn't be surprised if Kate was bought up in a disused crack den, eating dirt and turning tricks to survive. In reality, her poor family who have had to get by on popping to Waitrose in their BMWs will now be able to pop to Harrods in their Ferrari or Helicopter. But in these austere times, where the Queen is forced to sit on actual chairs instead of servants, and has to drink water instead of baby's tears, a lowly Bentley Continental may be all they (we) can afford.

Talking of Kate, how thin is she now? Has her BMI hit minus figures yet? I saw a photo of her legs yesterday and I thought she was a paraplegic, miraculously cured by Jesus, but yet to gain any muscle mass. Or some horrible creepy Russian marionette. Her head is due to fall off any minute, supported as it is by her tiny, withered neck. At least if they have to behead her (is that still allowed)? the Guillotine wouldn't be required. Just push her over, or even blow in her general direction and her head will detach itself. And where does this leave Charles now, and his mangle-faced concubine? The Queen looks determined to live for ever just to spite him and surely popular opinion will deliver Wills and Kate to the throne, where they will spend generations basically doing fuck all and sucking on the teat of the taxpayer in perpetuity like the useless, inbred German parasites they are. But thanks for the holiday!

Clean your own feet, you lazy bastards.

Mankind is renowned for being bloody cruel. It's one of the few things we are really brilliant at. No other animal would come up with the concept of torture, for example. Countless cases of genocide, murder and bloody big explosions all point to the fact that when we do eventually wipe each other out, we will not be missed by this planet one jot. Inherently, we are all shits, selfish, greedy, avaricious arse nuggets who either covet what we don't have, or spend our entirely useless lives trudging around London with our dirty hair, protesting about Idon'tknowwhat. So when we're not being cruel, we're just being idiots. It is when cruelty and idiocy collide that we come up with our most potent creations.

Take fish pedicures, for example. There is a beauty salon on my high street which I have never really taken much interest in - although judging by the repugnant specimens that I see exiting it, it is clearly failing at its intended purpose. Frequented by unfeasably orange and lardy women, it looks like a cross between a brothel and purgatory, with the Peroxide dead-eyed chubster behind the counter nonchalantly counting the hours of her miserable little existence away as she tuts and tends to her impeccably manicured nails. Said salon now offers fish pedicures, classily proclaimed by a hand-written sign that looks like it was written upside-down by a monkey. Amazingly it is spelt correctly, with not a misplaced apostrophe in sight, which must be something of a first for hand-written signs.

This is a procedure where daft women release their pongy toes from their Ugg Boots and dip them into a pool of lukewarm water. But in a twist to rival whatever contrived farce Simon Cowell comes up with next, the pool is full of hundreds of fish. Hundreds of justifiably confused fish, who were one minute swimming freely in Asia and the next scooped up, shipped to the UK and deposited into a dingy tub and expected to eat the rough bits from the feet of women who probably have smaller brains than they do. What a life. And the dole-sponging parasites of this country say they have it rough - at least they don't have to nibble feet, although maybe if they did then they'd get their arses off of the dole a bit quicker.

Have we really come to this as a race where we deem it necessary to cleanse our feet at the expense other living creatures? What is wrong with a pumice stone? It does a far more efficient job and doesn't cost any lives, as far as I can tell. Perhaps people are just too fat to reach their toes these days. I'm fairly sure that the average high street beauty salon has absolutely no idea of how to look after fish - they probably think that the fish are only supposed to last for a few days and not several years. I shudder to think what the mortality rates are in that environment. And if we have decided that this casual and entirely unnecessary cruelty is acceptable, why stop at fish?

Let's round up all the stray cats and use them as boots - they will be warmer than Uggs and will make cute noises as you tread their guts into the ground. We could use hamsters to provide cheap and efficient colonic irrigation; let them out once per month for some air. Sellotape puppies to our arses so when we sit down we don't need to grab a cushion first. Smash some monkeys heads in with a brick because we're bored. Set fire to a badger because it looks cool. Or better yet, we can realise that using fish for such a petty reason should stop. Or, even better, replace the fish with Piranha. Piranha Karma.

It's a Beautiful Day...

In my head, where my inane ramblings have any relevance to anyone but me, I imagine that people ask me what I actually do like. I often write about doom and gloom, and that probably makes me sound a bit, well, bitter. So I have decided to share something that actually makes me happy. Music is a very important part of my life, being fluent in both piano and keyboard and liking several dozen songs.

I have long had a penchant for a bit of stadium rock. Nothing makes me feel more invigorated and alive than being in a stadium 2 miles from the stage surrounded by people with the same T-Shirt as me. And who other than my favourite band could you say were the kings of stadium rock. For my favourite band is none other than U2! Their shows are amazing, and they are political too without ever being preachy, and they manage to squeeze all their hits into one set. They are truly the jewel of Britain's crown, wowing people as far afield as the USA. Whether you're talking about Bono, The Edge or the other guys they stand for longevity and innovation over decades of quality releases.

My favourite tracks are 'A Beautiful Day', 'Belfast Child' and 'Alive and Kicking'. I have been to the O2 arena and seen how amazing it was. U2 weren't actually playing, but I can imagine how they would have filled the place full of South Africans and other people of immeasurable taste. Bono is a crusader for the environment and saving the world - and who better to spread the message than someone who spends so much time visiting the corners of the globe in his private jet. He touches everyone he meets with his sincerity - wearing his trademark sunglasses to shield the world from his tragic tears. I always appreciate when multi-millionaires take time out of their schedules to let the rest of us less fortunate people know how we should run our lives.

The Edge is the best guitarist that I have heard on a record, full stop, and I include the one from Supergrass in that. He is called The Edge because he is constantly at the cutting edge of guitars and guitar-related things, so it is entirely appropriate that The Edge, 50, calls himself 'The Edge'. The Edge pioneered the signature guitar feedback-loop thing he does, along with other things which are too complex and numerous to mention here. The rest of the band are also brilliant, having grown up in England with Bono and The Edge. Occasionally Bono lets one of them join in on a song, just another reminder of what a wise philanthropist Bono is.

So, now you know. Next time you theoretically think that I don't actually like anything I refer you to this post. But like actually isn't a strong enough sentiment; I actually love U2. I know I'm unconventional but I don't care. So fuck you all.