Lady Diana Spencer was a top dollar princess. Everyone said so! “There she goes,” they’d say. “I’d goose that madam in a flash, having assuring myself that I’d gained her enthusiastic consent.” This is her story, as animated by the frankly alright Simon Chong.
An Icelandic football chant, throwing a spotlight on the player’s inability to tame a horse.
Your horse is a cunt,
Your horse is a cunt,
He does what he wants,
Your horse is a cunt.
Over thirteen episodes of Icelandic Maury have starred horses who do what they want, to the despair of their footballing owners. It’s a real problem over there.
Here is the complete list of TV catchphrases from 1979-1998
|Are You Being Served?||My Sodden Vajoo!||I must warn you, Captain Peacock, my sodden vajoo is currently stuffed fit to bust with a formidable array of dicks, many of which are on the vinegars.|
|Terry & June||By Poseidon’s Briny Ballsac!||Terry: That was the boss. I’m afraid there’s been a mix-up at the airport, and he’ll be bringing the Japanese delegation with him to dinner.
June: By Poseidon’s briny ballsac, Terry! What do those crazy yellow fucks even eat?
|‘Allo ‘Allo||But I’m not gay, Colonel!||Colonel Gruber: Would you like a little German kiss on your tum tum, Mr Artois?
Rene: But I’m not gay, Colonel!
Colonel Gruber: Are you not? My mistake. I hope I haven’t offended you!
Rene: Not at all! It is 1942, you know.
|Happy Days||Woof it up, daddio!||The Fonz: It’s like I always say, Mr Cunningham.
Mr Cunningham: I know, I know…
All: WOOF IT UP, DADDIO!
|Mork & Mindy||Reerfrrffflllllggggg||Mindy: He’s been like this for weeks now, doctor.
|After Henry||My husband’s bloody well dead||Sarah: Well, if I had a man about the house, perhaps my shelves wouldn’t be wonky, Eleanor. Unfortunately, my husband’s bloody well dead. I’m sure it’d be lovely to have a husband who’s positively thriving, but mine is the precise opposite. And newsflash, Eleanor – rigor mortis doesn’t work on dicks.|
Emralds, amthysts, stuff like that
Are you Steve Jobs? Take this test to find out!
An employee tells you she has devised a new procedure that might save your company hundreds of man-hours every month. Do you:
- Congratulate her on her proactivity and consider her for promotion
- Shoot her with a crossbow and whisper “Speaking as Steve Jobs, your artless obsession with the mundane is utterly uninspiring to me.” Then get security to put her dying body into a trebuchet, and fire her into a swamp.
You are sending an iMessage to Bono. What does it say?
- What the fuck is your problem, you sack of human shit
- Hey Bono it’s Steve Jobs here, let’s rub our dicks together until we start a fucking pube fire
The opportunity arises to be kind. Do you:
- Seize it
- Feel repulsed, knowing that kindness is required only by the weak. Then feel jubilant, knowing that you, Steve Jobs, will never need the help of others, for there is no-one stronger, more complete, and less riddled with cancer than yourself
If you answered mostly 2, then you are probably the deceased cunt, Steve Jobs
EXCERPT FROM STEVEN MOFFAT’S DIARY, JULY 1972
Let’s just take it as read, then, that I am the new Doctor Who. Here’s the title card, which will show on the telly while a posh bloke says “And coming up after the local news, Dr Who will kick the dicks off of some Go-Bots, or something”.
I have written a new opening sequence to more properly suit my Doctor’s “energy”. K-9 is flying around in space. There is a close-up on his ears, which spin around, and he says “DOCTOR, I HAVE DETECTED AN EPISODE IN THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM.” Then I jump through a paper hoop and say “Let’s get ON IT!”
I kick K-9 into the sun, and then it’s the usual opening sequence only with me waving my arms around like I’m going dead fast.
The music is Bob Marley’s Jammin’, but the last line of the chorus changed to “We hope you like Doctor Who”. My assistant, a sarcastic parrot with a monocle and the voice of Brian Sewell, squawks “Sure do!”, lands on my shoulder, and we jump into the Tardis.
(On the Dalek episode, the Daleks have a verse, too. They come in, singing “We are the Daleks, we love the disco sound” and I wag my finger at them until they say sorry)
So the action starts, and I’m on a NEVER BEFORE SEEN BEFORE new planet, where time is BACKWARDS. I shoot a monster in the face and a doctor (not me) appears and issues it a birth certificate. I actually say the word “WHURGH?” and the doctor says “I don’t know what planet you are from Mr Who but on this planet we issue birth certificates when people die and everyone smokes cigars”. He hands us both a party popper. My parrot shrugs and makes a “doi-yoi-yoing-g-g” sound that it learned off the telly. I decide to investigate.
Before long Ted Danson arrives, and tells me I have to get off his planet. I wrestle with him in a void dimension for twelve episodes, and everyone is astonished when it turns out he is full of Daleks and it was them all along, not Ted Danson. But THIS TIME, the Daleks have all got human noses because they thought perhaps it was the fact we could smell them coming that made us keep winning.
The Daleks say “I smelled YOU coming Dr Who, how do you like them apples” and I raise my eyebrows so far that they fly off, and tickle the Dalek’s noses. They all sneeze their plungers off, except for the supreme dalek, who I have to wrestle in a void dimension for a couple of episodes. Eventually I throw him into a wheelybin, rip his plunger off and stick it up my shirt like I have got a tit.
Then I regenerate SIX TIMES, which is a record for Most Regenerations In A Single Episode Of Doctor Who, and everyone is really pumped up. Then my parrot just dies, and suddenly everyone’s crying, it’s a real bittersweet thing. “Shit man, I just killed all the Daleks, why are you bumming everyone out,” I say, and time flies out of my mouth and into the parrot’s face until it is alive again. “Phew,” I laugh. “That was a close one.”
Then Kylie Minogue walks in and we make out, forgetting that in my latest incarnation I am a woman, which causes 30,001 complaints and the removal of BBC1 from the space-time airwaves.
Torchwood is a TV show in which literally anything goes. One minute Captain Jack Harkness will be stood on the roof of a Cardiff building, and the next minute a bloke gets his dick shattered into stardust by an alien with proper nice tits. And everything inbetween!
Here is a brief guide to the first episodes of Torchwood:
The Bum Column: Two gay aliens get commissioned by a hypnotised Mayor of London to perform anal on the vacant fourth pillar in Trafalgar Square. When everyone in the UK begins to wank themselves to death, it’s up to Captain Jack to drink all the spunk then puke it into the wormhole that brought the aliens here.
The Dick Dilemma: Gwen is conflicted when she gets promoted to a job she never applied for: the Madam of an interstellar brothel ship, and her loyalty to Rhys is tested when the juiciest penis in the universe begins to produce gallons of space pre-cum from its titanium urethra. Luckily, Captain Jack is there to take a hit for the team.
The Moon Frump: A puritanical new recruit disapproves of all the sex antics, causing Captain Jack to physically invert from sexual frustration. With Jack’s mouth out of action, can Tosh and Ianto save the universe from a massive moon tit, by drinking all the milk it’s squirting at Earth? And why does the new recruits passport say that she’s from… the moon?
In later episodes, an American man said “you fags be crazy” and everyone got embarrassed and decided to calm down.