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from My Name Is Earl. And fat arsed lupine Bingo from the Banana Splits looking motherfucking cockmonkey Billie Piper could so easily have stolen the day. But the horse faced sophistimacated con artist Jaime Murray won by a short head with a combination of posh frocks and knowing eyebrow raises that suggested that she was indeed pure filth. Steward’s inquiry? Later for that shit.
    TV Event of the Year: The Apprentice finale
    Flagcracking yam-yam sumo atrocity Ruthless Badger faced off against icy abused child Michelle Dewberry Pie in a showdown many were already calling “the last episode in this particular series of The Apprentice”. The weeks of clashing egos, mismanaged tasks and boardroom beatdowns cascaded into champagne and cancans on Tower Bridge. Badger clocked up the most ducats but the old shrewdie Sugar realised that staring at the Badger pie day-in day-out for three years would inevitably lead to suicide and chose the fairer form from the school of hard knocks. Meritocrats cried foul but suckers for a sob story from a pretty blonde girl recognised that he had made the right choice.
    Worst premise: Alive: Back To The Andes (Channel 5)
    Using celebrities to recreate a disaster that involves a plane crash, a mountain range and cannibalism was not something top of my list of Programmes That Need To Be Made (top of that particular list is Going Dyke with Michelle Dewsbury and Sophie Ellis-Bextor trivia fans). None of that stopped Channel 5 from this spectacularly misguided project only saved from total disaster by the real survivors’ harrowing testimony. That they actually ate raw meat to recreate the cannibalism was just a further insult to the memory of the dead who were soon sharing airtime with Adam Ricketts’ grievances about the media. Nobody deserves that.
    Most Unjustly Culled Show: Bodies, BBC3
    Life is unfair and TV is never less than an accurate reflection of life. Take Paul McCartney - about to get abandoned and taken for 40 squllion in the inevitable divorce by his lunatic wife. Yes. Paul McCartney - faithful and loyal to Linda for 30 years despite being the pretty one out of The Beatles (and therefore having the proverbial key to the pie shop whenever he damn well pleases).
    Then on the other hand there’s the serial womaniser, wife beating smackhead John Lennon. Whose dick do you think women were women trying to suck? Was it the loyal, prettier faithful Paul? Fuck out of here.
    And Bodies doesn’t get a third series. Try ‘splaining that.

Documentary tards : deviants, wackjobs and Peaches Geldof

What should be the flickering screened embodiment of television's duty to inform and entertain - the documentary - is too often a playground for mentally subnormal parasitic attention seekers of all hue. Trying to fathom the depths of vacuity within Peaches Geldof and sending in professional cabbage Fearne Cotton led us into dark territory but it was Fix My Fat Head that really took the soggy biscuit for stupid, slobby, worthless journalism with a hog for a host, subject and narrator.

The bottom line is that there is a surplus of documentaries and not enough authentic subjects to justify them. Narcissist tools need to be targeted, neutralised and asphyxiated - then we can hear the grown-ups talk.

My Penis And I
    We all have our demons and our ways of dealing with them. Film-maker Lawrence Barraclough has dealt with his tiny penis by making a film about it and broadcasting it to 1.5 million people. I think that takes big balls (or maybe they just look big next to his wiener?)
    Whether
My Penis and I
shows a remarkable faith in his fellow man or a need to be the centre of attention is unclear. Either way, he's certainly putting it on the chopping block with this high-risk strategy. Would you really want every girl in Britain knowing your secret?
    That's not an immediate issue for Lawrence as some lucky lady has already snapped him up. They've been together for nine years but the girl in question takes