A Few Questions..


Why is it a cup of tea always makes you feel better?

Despite replicating the recipe, how come I can never replicate my mother’s food?

Why must AutoGlass adverts use Birmingham accents?  Literally the most irritating region dialect ever?

How does Charlie Brooker manage to write down my thoughts exactly and say them before I do, and much more eloquently?

How does The Word write itself so well? Everytime?

Kettle Chips? Or Tyrrells? Or Burts?

Why do buses not offer returns that last longer than a DAY? Just like trains? Hm? Useless.

Why must the teapot always drip? And why haven’t people realised it’s all in the wrist action?

How do people have the audacity to continue to walk three-a-breast right up until the moment when you have pass ech other on the pavement, and then look at you like it’s entirely you’re fault? Generally, these people are obese too. Comedy.

Will people always be interested in Katie Price’s life?

All ‘Come Dine With Me’s are the same. It’s true. And yet I still watch them. And they’re all so entertaining!

Will ‘The Simpsons’ ever be better than ‘Family Guy’? (No it won’t).

Who the hell invented the hideousness that is Valentine’s Day?! I mean come on!

And finally…

What’s the deal with ageing, suit-wearing, middle class, white, male television presenters on day-time quiz shows?! Surely no one wants to see that? Or is it just me?

The Fantasy Dinner Party.


Despite it having “dinner” in the title, this is only because evening meals are so rarely called “Supper parties”. But I eat supper, I do not do “dinner”, “tea” (it’s a drink! The quintessential English DRINK), and, worst of all – surely – is “din dins”. That word is on par with “quirky”, de-pluralising “pound” (you have £3? It is THREE POUNDS. Not “three pound”. Or “free paaaaaand”), and maybe even the somewhat irksome Somerset phrase “Where’s that to?” Which, I think you’ll all agree, makes absolutely no sense at all.

So. We’re having supper. But who is to be invited? I feel there should be two invite lists – the fictional and the non-fictional. They are famous people and, yes, can be dead. This is fantasy world. Seven places, and I’m the host.

And this list is currently provisional. It changes all the time anyway.

The Real :

Charlie Brooker

John Betjeman

Agatha Christie

Dara O Briain (interchangeable with Dylan Moran, if Dara isn’t available)

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall (although I’d need a “no puns allowed” rule)

Bette Davis (GLAMOURAMA)

Carol Ann Duffy (just to bring the jovial tone down ten feet)

The Not-So-Real :

Sherlock Holmes

Hercule Poirot

Jonathan Creek (am beginning to notice a pattern developing..)

(to be finished when I’ve thought of more who aren’t male fictional detectives…)


On another thought, this could make an excellent episode of ‘Come Dine With Me’.