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.

Voles are not to be trusted

I knew a vole once. Never liked him. Always trying to finish my sentences, never actually listening to me. A little sycophant. Normally I would let my intense dislike of voles go over my head, but not after what happened yesterday. I was sitting in my pants, minding my own business, when a vole took it upon himself to repeatedly knock on my door. I asked what it wanted. "Won't you like to see this pegs?." He replied. He was wearing arrogant slip-on canvas shoes, and not much else. He looked like he should have been in One Direction. "No thanks." I slammed the door in his sarcastic little vole face.

About 10 minutes later, I heard a knock on my door again. I ignored it this time, as I was masturbating furiously and crying a bit. But the rapping grew louder, and eventually I was put off. I decided to confront the vole again. I again asked him what he wanted, this time with rather more force. He sneered at me, and produced a drawstring bag, which had pegs and sponges in it. "You buy this pegs?" The vole asked. "I don't want your pegs" I replied. He looked sad at first, then angry. "Good day to you" I said, and slammed the door in his narky, sneering little face.

Roll on an hour, and I was lightly cutting myself with dirty razor blades. The blood was congealing in a most pleasant way, when the knocking on my door started again. I dabbed my bleeding arms on a towel and stomped down the stairs, only stopping to punch myself in the face repeatedly. I almost pulled the door off of it's hinges, only to be confronted by the vole and 2 burly policemen. I realised that I looked a bit of a state, what with my bleeding arms and face, and tried to stammer some pleasantries to the officers. "Hexcuse me sir, this vole says that you stole his television." I was that incredulous, that I was unable to form words. Some dribble came out and I wet myself.

The police pushed past me and removed my television out of my front room. The vole smirked at me as they carried it over my threshold. "This vole has announced that he won't press charges, provided that you buy some pegs from him." I felt in a bind. I gave the vole 10 pounds and he dipped his filthy little hand into the bag, and threw 5 measly pegs onto the floor. They weren't even the same colour or style, and some were faded - obviously stolen. It was then that I realised that the 2 burly policemen were actually scrawny little voles! They ran off with my television and I was powerless to stop them as I was naked and bleeding profusely. The remaining vole just looked at me. "Next time, you buy my pegs, yes? and maybe a sponges?" I said nothing, merely slamming my door in his twattish little vole face.