Bear Vs Monkey

There was a story in the press this week about a monkey in a zoo that got eaten by three bears. Now, my first thought was, what was the monkey doing going to visit the bears in the first place, it’s his own fault, but, it transpires that the monkeys and bears were kept in the same enclosure. Admittedly they’ve lived harmoniously for a good few years and until now there haven’t been any eatings, although I suspect the monkeys, being the cheeky scamps they are, probably have played a few tricks on the bears, like hiding their iPods, stuff like that. However, I do have to wonder, didn’t anybody ever think ‘Hmm, bears and monkeys, that could be interesting if the bears get stroppy’?

I would have thought just that, but I’d have still put the monkeys in with the bears and called it some sort of socio-biological experiment. And filmed it all to sell to Channel Four.

Oh, and I also learnt today that seahorses hoover shrimp up through their noses. Everyday’s a school day.

Eurovision

Ah, once again Eurovision has arrived. I’m not quite sure what it is about Eurovision, everybody knows it’s complete cack and yet everybody seems to watch it. I’m not sure whether it’s the complete nonsense that Terry Wogan comes out with (this year he’s excelled himself), the Finnish metal bands with giant bat wings, masks and fireworks, or maybe it’s the whole thing of sitting there and ripping the shit out of all the entries, which is a very British past time (remember the Blaine-baiters down by Ken’s office?) but it sort of sucks you in, and before you know it you’ve watched two hours of God-awful noise instead of turning over and watching QI or Friends.

13 weeks of living hell (Part two)

I decided to watch the opening night so I could give you my opinion on the housemates:

• Bonnie – Chav retard, ya get me?
• Pete – Has Tourettes.
• George – Posh cúnt, who kills foxes with dogs for fun.
• Shahbaz – Camp Scottish 80’s throwback.
• Lea – Plastic slút.
• Imogen – Hmmm, looks quite nice actually. Welsh.
• Mikey – Arrogant, Scouse, sexist fuckwit.
• Dawn – Miserable Brummie cow.
• Glyn – Weird, puny lifeguard with delusions of grandeur. Welsh.
• Richard – Big gay Al except more camp. Cúnt.
• Grace – Posh, spoilt, naïve, cute.
• Lisa – Gobby, Manc, proper fúcking annoying. About as far from ‘mint’ as you can get.
• Sezer – Waaaaaaaaaaanker. Recognise.
• Nikki – Gold digging, vacuous slut. I’d shag her, but only after I’d hid my wallet. Will be the first to get her títs out.
  
  The things I do for this blog, I just watched an hour of this shit. I’ve never been so bored (except when I watched Titanic, but at least that had a happy ending (if you haven’t seen it the big boat sinks and Leo gets a lungful of water)).
  
  So to summarise, a couple of fit birds who look a million times better than the plastic slút who’s spent £35K on tits and lips, a load of arrogant posh tossers and a bloke with Tourettes. Oh, and some people who are Welsh.
  
  I pledge, here and now, not to watch a minute more of this arse.

13 weeks of living hell (Part one)

Big Brother returns to our screens tonight, and it’s running for a somewhat excessive thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks! That’s over three months! Now, I’m not being funny, but do the people at Channel Four really think people are going to want to watch a group of nobodies doing pointless tasks for over a quarter of a year? The sad thing is, people probably will. Every day!

I really can’t understand what the attraction is, it’s not like anything ever happens. Oh, and it’s not just Big Brother, there’s Big Brother’s Little Brother, Big Brothers Big Mouth, and don’t forget the non-stop live coverage on E4.

So, basically you’ve got hundreds of thousands of people who aren’t going to spend their summer enjoying the sunshine and sitting in the beer garden on a balmy night, oh no – they’ll be sat at home watching people eating dinner and sleeping. That’s another thing, the 24 hour coverage – what’s the point, THEY’RE ALL F*CKING ASLEEP!!! People really will watch anything...

I suppose there is one good point though. At least for thirteen weeks we’ll know exactly when Dermot O’Leary is on telly, so we can avoid him.