{Instructions for the new dance that'll make you look like a right proper legend this summer}

  • walk into the venue like you own the place (club/pub/supermarket/stranger's house)
  • order a sherry and knock it back 
  • hurl the glass at the wall like some sort of enormous bell end
  • mince onto the dance floor clicking your fingers and smirking
  • wiggle your hips
  • now the other way
  • start clapping but in reverse
  • drive your tongue into the roof of your mouth and start rolling your head
  • now the other way
  • repeat the process
  • introduce your knees into the equation 
  • ...and back again
  • once more
  • now with your hands pretend you're trying to calm down a poorly horse (BE GENTLE)
  • 360° for ten seconds
  • remember your feet should be at 125° to the bar/frozen food isle
  • Introduce your dog to the audience
  • start whooping like a pelican
  • are your hips still doing that thing?
  • ...and the hand clapping?
  • now it's time for the pliĆ©.  (Google how to pliĆ©)
  • If you have time then spin round and get off with the nearest slut
  • return to the dance and continue the entire process until you win/pull/pass out/get arrested 
*Remember the tune goes like this - Dum Dum Dum, DoDoDoDo Bamalamalama Dum Dum Dum DooDoDo Bing Bang Bong Bing Bang Bong Dum Dum Dum, DoDoDoDo Bamalamalama Dum Dum Dum DooDoDo Bing Bang Bong Bing Bang Bong Dum Dum Dum, DoDoDoDo Bamalamalama Dum Dum Dum DooDoDo Bing Bang Bong Bing Bang Bong Dum Dum Dum, DoDoDoDo Bamalamalama Dum Dum Dum DooDoDo Bing Bang Bong Bing Bang Bong BOSH BOSH BAM!


some thoughts about that
Look around at this time of year and you'll notice that the celebration of new life and new beginnings is one of the more common themes as we approach Easter. From the supermarket shelves in the city to the countryside fields, the optimism of birth is omnipresent in the form of bunnies, chicks, lambs, snakes and earwigs.
However, because you lot, as a race, are a walking contradiction, this time of the year is also treated as an excuse to throw a festival of death and carnage as you waltz around the place battering seal pups with spiked clubs and blasting tiny birds out of the air with shotguns. In Britain it's a time of the year when you mount your noble steeds and send them around a punishing gauntlet of doom in the form of the Grand National and in the USA thousands of retarded hillbillies stride into the woods to bravely murder wild turkeys, nature's stupidest and least threatening animal.
On a separate note, I've never really understood why those of you who don't feel the need to satiate  your blood lust will happily sit at home and tuck into chocolate effigies of the animals whose lives you're purporting to be celebrating. I can think of loads of reasons why it would be inappropriate to eat a chocolate statue of Nelson Mandela on his birthday so why on earth do you think it's alright to do the same with rabbits and chickens? Speaking of which, why do you use animals as mascots for the products which contain their own flesh and blood? If you asked any intensively farmed chicken if it would be happy to pose with two feathery thumbs up for the company logo of Perfect Fried Gristle after it'd just spent several miserable months in an avian-battery-farm hell, plucking it's own feathers out with the nub of a beak it has left after having it removed with red hot secateurs, it would probably tell you to fuck right off. I doubt the Laughing Cow would be laughing that hard considering she's just spent years being kept unnaturally pregnant, her swollen and bleeding, genetically modified udders scraping across the cold concrete floor every time she's ushered into a shed to give birth and watch her newborn calf slide down a shoot into a set of giant mechanical gnashing jaws and subsequently turned into veal cordial before her very eyes. If she's laughing after that would then it would indicate a severe case of mad cow disease. 
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, killing stuff for a laugh. So in Canada at the moment valiant cunts are waking up, putting their waterproof boots and hats on, picking up the baseball bat that they've heroically hammered  nails into and then they'll kiss their thick wife on the cheek and fearlessly march out onto the ice to pummel baby seals to death until the snow runs red with blood. Baby seals are ridiculous looking, there's no denying that. They look like puppies that have been redesigned by a committee of 6 year old girls, hormonal women and particularly lucid unicorns. Even so, they probably don't deserve that shit. I would have thought that once you've daringly caved in one baby seal's head you'd probably feel like a bit of cunt and then have to go home for a bath and a long hard think about your life.
Anyway, seal clubbing gets a lot of press and causes controversy because people think they're cute. Looking adorable is the best defense against you monsters. If we, as foxes, didn't stink like a tramp's ball bags and we all looked like some kind of Walt Disney idea of perfection then there'd probably be less of you fuckers chasing us around the countryside with little trumpets and trying to knacker us with a pack of dogs. Fickle.
The reason I write this though is to help out a mate, and not an animal one. Cwis Packham's got a bee in his bonnet about the annual slaughter of migrant birds in Malta, and even though a chaffinch called me fat cunt the other day, I agreed to help his cause. Packham's flying out to Malta to confront the 10 000 hunters who descend on the island to intrepidly blast tiny little birds out of the sky for absolutely no reason. Most of these birds aren't any bigger than a carton of Um Bongo so eating one would be about as much fun as tucking into a box of drawing pins. He's documenting his quest on a nightly YouTube feed via his website and he'll be confronting these trigger happy kebab munchers and attempting to make them see some sort of sense. If that doesn't work then at least he'll be raising awareness of the issue to people who haven't got the IQ of a toilet brush. 
Hopefully he won't get shot because he owes me £5 and that'd be just my bloody luck.
Here are some words from Cwis...



For many years I have lobbied the UK's bird charities to campaign to raise awareness about the slaughter of migrant birds on Malta. I have equally tried to stimulate television programme makers to cover the issue - both without success - a sad reflection of our complacent and risk adverse times.
Well, I've finally run out of patience and together with three colleagues and the support of Birdlife Malta this spring I will be making a nightly video diary of the days events on the island which will be posted on . . . 

YouTube at 9.00 PM (UK time)
between the
21st and 26th of April 2014

Our mission is to generate a wider awareness of this heinous practice with frank and factual reports from the frontline where our much loved migrant birds are being shot in huge numbers. It will not be pretty, the species killed include many UK favourites and rarities and the hunters are infamous for being confrontational and violent. I don’t care, this is not a holiday, it's an attempt to bring this forgotten issue to a wider public attention and then to offer a couple of ways the viewers can actually do something to effect positive change.
Please try to watch our broadcasts and please publicise them as widely as possible. I believe that people will be truly horrified when they see what happens on Malta to 'our birds', I believe they care and they will do something to change it.
Malta lies 100 kilometres south of Sicily and is a popular destination for sun-seeking British holiday-makers and is steeped in interesting cultural and natural history. It also lies on theCentral Mediterranean Flyway one of three migration superhighways between Europe and Africa. Millions of birds migrate along this route every year and the Maltese Islands are an important resting place for birds making the long flight across the Mediterranean - the final barrier before they reach mainland Europe.

On 12th April, in Malta, over 10,500 hunters armed with shotguns and occupying large areas of public countryside will begin one of Europe’s most shameful legalised slaughters of threatened birds at the very time of year when they are making their way north from Africa on their return migration to their breeding grounds throughout Europe. This is the start of a three-week hunting season during which countless thousands of migrating birds, many of them rare and protected species, will be indiscriminately killed for sport thanks to Malta continuing to undermine EU wildlife directives by being the only country in the EU to open a recreational hunting season in spring.
Weeks before the arrival of Barn Swallows signals the start of summer they can be seen in the Maltese Islands along with nearly 100 other species. Unfortunately this spring about 10,500 hunters, that’s about 80 per square kilometre making it the highest density of hunters anywhere in the world, are waiting for them. In 2013 at least 24 species of protected birds were illegally shot including Cuckoos, Marsh and Pallid Harriers, Kestrels, Ospreys, Purple and Grey Herons, Bee-eaters, Golden Orioles and . . . Barn Swallows - those very birds that should herald the arrival of our summer.
Unfortunately, Malta’s notorious reputation as one of Europe’s worst black spots for illegal and unsustainable bird killing is not undeserved. Since the 1960s, Malta has lost at least three previously breeding bird species as a direct result of persecution by hunters - including the Peregrine Falcon (famously known as the Maltese Falcon).
Today, the spring hunting season in Malta is one of the most controversial bird conservation issues in Europe. Ostensibly, only two species - Turtle Dove and Quail - may be shot during this spring hunting season, but in reality many more are targeted under the cover of the legal season. Rare species are killed and stuffed for illegal Victorian-style private collections, undermining European conservation efforts, while many more common migrants are just used for target practice with their killers not even bothering to confirm their kills or collect the bird they have just shot. Turtle Doves and Quail are themselves vulnerable and declining in Europe, with the Turtle Dove - one of Europe’s most iconic birds, its appearance and sound synonymous with the summer- on the verge of extinction as a breeding bird in several European countries, including the UK.
Every spring BirdLife Malta volunteers take injured birds illegally shot during the spring hunting season to a vet in the hope that their injuries are not too severe and they can be treated and released, but only a relatively small number survive.
While the large majority of Maltese people oppose spring hunting and want to see migrating birds properly protected, successive Maltese governments have failed to bring illegal bird killing under control and refused to stop unsustainable hunting in spring. And since a ruling by the European Court of Justice in 2009 found Malta guilty of violating the EU Birds Directive by allowing spring hunting in 2004-2007, the European Commission appears to have lost the will to take further action to stop Malta’s abuse of the Birds Directive.
Stopping spring hunting would be a huge step towards making Malta safe for Europe’s migrating birds and would even help the chances of birds which try to breed on the islands. There is new hope amongst Maltese and European conservationists that this might be the last year Malta opens a spring hunting season. A petition presented to Malta’s Electoral Commission last week and signed by more than 44,000 Maltese voters, calls for a public referendum to stop spring hunting in Malta and could finally put an end to decades of abuse by removing the taking the decision away from politicians putting in directly in the hands of the Maltese people.

Thank you
Chris Packham

Curl One Out (40-1)
Sickle Cell Amelia (99-2)
Japanese Bastard (10-1)
Aidsfortheeyes (80-1)
Ross Kemp's Hangover Blues (5-1)
Gunning For Tooshie (25-1)
Little Lord Haemorrhoid Cream (22-1)
Haunted Paul (100-2)
The Pervert (66-1)
Teabag (12-1)
Grandad's Black Mamba (22-1)
Blinded By Ketchup (8-1)
Bell End Tent (20-1)
Addicted To Buns (66-1)
We Didn't Burn Lucy (88-1)
Gazza's Saucy Discotheque (40-1)
Liquid Footjob (500-1)
Colonel Helmet's Tagnut Holocaust (1-1)
Fungus The Bogey Horse (13-2)
Shart Attack (88-1)
Racist Gypsy (12-1)
Crispycrispycrispycrispycrispycrispycrispycrispy Pancake (17-4)
Jefferson Bar Shift (12-1)
Uncle Nigel's Secret Whorehouse (78-1)
Spacedocking (3-1)
Mum's Knuckle Supper (66-6)
Terrible Richard (22-1)
Heavily Soiled Laundry (50-1)
The World's Lonliest Dentist (22-1)
BloodOnTheToiletSeat (66-1)
Depressed Roy (1000-1)

shitty old rusty cans
Found this under a lorry about 7 years ago. It's one of the best shitty old cans I've ever seen, even though it's all smashed up to fuck. I was with my mate Paranoid Simon when I found it. Paranoid Simon caught aids off a goose a few hours later. I still piss myself laughing when I think back to that day. It was one of the best days of my life. Simon's dead now.
I liked this one because it had a penis it. I found it behind Noel Edmonds' house, tucked underneath the BBQ. I reckon the penis belonged to the chimp that Edmonds used to keep chained up in his garage. My mate Tim Gloves reckons that he's been in Edmonds' basement and it's full of swords and guns. He also told me that he once got into a fight with a badger and punched it so hard that it went back in time and ended up in a painting at the National Portrait gallery wearing a Tudor ruff. It's hard to know what to believe sometimes. Anyway this is a good can. Very happy memories. 

I fucking loved this one. It sort of reminded me of Jesus if Jesus had been a little bit more like a haggard old can covered in snails and a little bit less like Jesus. I think about this can about once every five minutes. 
2 - CAN
Can't remember this one for the life of me. I'm sure I've got a brilliant one to go here but I just can't remember. I think it was rusty. Was it behind Snappy Snaps? Fuck, I wish I could remember what this pointless old rusty can looked like. Fanta? No it wasn't Fanta. Bollocks!  
Well we've finally reached the coveted number one spot. Fuck me, talk about the holy grail of useless old shitty cans. This was an absolute corker. Found it in some cunt's back garden. I wonder if the tissue was full of jizz. Shoud have checked. I'M SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT FOR NOT  CHECKING! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN PERFECT! Doesn't get much better than that. Still, it's a good can/tin/whatever. I remember showing it to a duck and it didn't give a shit. That annoyed me. Spoiled what would have otherwise been a perfect day. 10/10
for the rest of the year

2014------------------------------------MARCH 5th David Cameron shocks the country by getting a tattoo of a Ferrari F50 on his neck. "I don't know why everyone didn't see this fucking coming" he says, when asked about the decision on Newsnight  -----------------------------------------MARCH 27th Mice become more valuable than diamonds. For several days the entire country is in the grip of 'Klondike Mouse Fever' as the entire population prise up their floorboards and get into the sewers trying to cash in. The cost of mice plummets three days later ----------APRIL 4th Bruce Forsyth is killed in a bungee jumping accident ---------------------------------------------------------------APRIL 29th BMW release a new 5 door saloon. The 'BMW Huntley' features images of Soham murderer, Ian Huntley on the bonnet and hub caps as well as pictures of his victims etched into the walnut dashboard interior. The car sells poorly -----------MAY 10th A new type of soil is discovered in a field near Milton Keynes. The story dominates the front pages of the press for several weeks ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------MAY 31st Danny Dyer invades Poland in an M1A2 Abrams Battle Tank. He is arrested by police after killing almost 2 million civilians ------------------------------------JUNE 12th The new internet craze 'chop-your-dick-off' is outlawed by the government after 4 people die. Tributes are held for Sir Alex Ferguson who was the first to become a victim to the online phenomenon ------------------------------------------------------------JULY 16th J.K Rowling releases a new book called 'An Anthology of Instruction Manuals For Telephone Answering Machines 1990-2006'. The book does exactly what it says on the tin and becomes Rowling's least successful publication to date, selling only 19 million copies --------------------------------------------------------------------------------JULY 22nd Retarded farmer, 'Yarp Singleton' tops the UK charts with his 14 minute song about an egg. 'The Egg Song' goes on to sell better than any record  in history ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------AUGUST 31st Gary Linker's head bursts into flames live on Match of the Day ----------------------------------------------------SEPTEMBER 11th Being blind becomes trendy. Both Topshop and the Royal National Institute for the Blind strongly discourage young people from flying on the wings of fashion and taking their own sight with acid, chopsticks and guns -----------SEPTEMBER 13th A new law, which prohibits putting rollerskates on swans, is passed by the government. Ed Milliband calls the decision "an outrage" and claims he will not be abiding by it. He is arrested 4 days later in Kew Gardens -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------OCTOBER 23rd France is destroyed in a fire --------------------------------OCTOBER 30th Nike release a controversial range of trainers made from human flesh and are tried for war crimes after it emerges that the skin comes from Kosovan refugees which had been dug up from a mass grave. The UN described Nike as "very naughty"--------------------------------------------------------------------------NOVEMBER 22nd Something about an octopus------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------DECEMBER 5th Jesus comes back------DECEMBER 6th Jesus fucks off again----------------------------------------------------DECEMBER 26th 18° / cloudy with a chance of rain / low pressure coming in from the East  ----------------------------------------------------------------DECEMBER 30th Through the miracles of artificial insemination and cloning, Jools Holland gives birth to himself live on national TV in Channel 4's celebrity version of their successful new Saturday night format-----------------------------2015 
a possible afternoon
with a worm

  1. Meet the worm
  2. Kiss the worm on the cheek/worm
  3. Offer the worm a drink/lunch/massage (offer to pay half of the bill)
  4. Chat with the worm. Have fun with the bastard
  5. Go for a nice walk around a National Trust garden/stately home
  6. Buy the worm something in the gift shop (pencil/pencil case depending on how well the date is going)
  7. Get off with the worm behind some bins
  8. Gin and tonic? Take the worm for a gin and tonic
  9. Get drunk with the worm
  10. Start crying and talking about all the problems you've been having with Lisa. Talk about the affair
  11. Get into an argument with the worm. Get unnecessarily aggressive and start being sick. Shout at the worm. Start screaming at the cunt as if you've completely lost your marbles
  12. Glass the worm with a bottle of WKD
  13. Get your coat and ask if the worm would like a lift home
  14. Drop the worm home and kiss the worm on the cheek again. Be the perfect gent
  15. Wave farewell to the worm
  16. Go home and have a wank and a long hard think about what you're doing with your life

a short history of
shit race horses 

Most of us know very little about our family tree much beyond our great grandparents (my great granddad was shot in the face and turned into a posh hat for some rich cunt), so it’s amazing to realise that the direct bloodline of a thoroughbred racehorse can be traced back through tens of generations.
There are thousands of these stupid, gangly, bastards born every year in Britain and each one can trace their ancestry back to just three horses.
Famous success stories like Nijinsky, Red Rum, Seabiscuit and Black Beauty may have benefited from centuries of incest and inbreeding but others haven’t been so lucky. Here, in a world first, we take a look at some of the poor fuckers who didn’t cut the mustard and find fame and fortune on the track.

Curl One Out was foaled in about 1780 and was tipped for the top after receiving a huge amount of investment from the Earl of Kent. However, things didn’t go to plan and it turned out that Curl One Out was a fucking idiot. In his first professional race he began ‘burrowing downwards’ at the starting pistol like some sort of gigantic, lanky, hamster. Three hours later, well after the end of the race, Curl One Out was at the bottom of a 30ft pit and continuing to dig his way towards the core of the earth and tragically, his jockey, Fergus O’Connel, had become trapped under a large pile of dirt and had sadly perished. According to eyewitnesses, at about 2am Curl One Out burst into flames and exploded like a bag of ham. No one knows why this happened but it cast a black cloud over the sport for many years to come.
(A commemorative statue of Fergus O’Connell can be found at the National Horse Racing Museum, behind the bins)

Bulimic Phil came last in every race he ever entered. Some critics said it was because his jockey, Brian Stacey, was blind and had a morbid fear of horses whereas others reckoned that the problem was with the horse’s penis which was over 7.5 ft in length and weighed as much as a fully grown nun. He was, however, immortalised in a series of explicit paintings by equine portrait artist, George Stubbs.
Either way, he was fucking rubbish.

Uncle Hooves The Carpet Horse was owned by flamboyant and eccentric horse breeder, Fabrizio Zodiak, who insisted that the best way to produce a winning thoroughbred was to raise it almost exactly like you would a human child.
Uncle Hooves… was given his own bedroom in the house as well as toys, clothes and even a sort of giant tricycle which he would ride around the vast estate like something from a particularly nasty, opium fuelled, nightmare.
Zodiak flew in the face of reason (and chronological, factual accuracy) by feeding the horse roast beef, gammon and Pop Tarts, despite the fact that Pop Tarts wouldn’t be invented for another 150 years.
Convinced that his plan would work (despite not testing it once) Zodiak put his entire estate on Uncle Hooves The Carpet Horse winning his debut outing at Cheltenham. In the first 3 seconds of the race Uncle Hooves… broke all four of his legs and died in the middle of the track like an old shoe.
Fabrizio Zodiak spent the rest of his life working as a male prostitute in East London.

THE MIGHTY KING was infamously disqualified from the 1857 Grand National after it was discovered that he was actually a donkey from a local farm wearing a horse costume made from muslin and suede. As far as plans to cheat the system go, it has to be up there as one of the worst. When the owner and trainer, Gavin Plough, was asked why he hadn’t put his efforts into creating a costume for a racehorse so that it might win a donkey derby he replied by chopping his own hands off and booting them into a nearby pond and saying the word “fiddlesticks” over and over again until he was arrested.
In court he was accused of ‘putting a donkey in a funny costume’; a crime, which, at the time, was punishable by death.
In June, Gavin Plough was hung, drawn and quartered.

Two heads are better than one? Well not for Captain Satan, the first two headed, Siamese twin, racehorse; thought to be a result of his parents being fed on a diet of uranium as opposed to hay. He never finished a race let alone won one, choosing instead to wander slowly into the crowd every time he heard the starting pistol, like some kind of mutant, bovine imbecile. He would routinely terrify spectators at every event inspiring them to fire their muskets at the beast and thrash him with their canes. Captain Satan died in an aeroplane crash in 1959 along with Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and ‘La Bamba’ star, Ritchie Valens.


If you’re the kind of person who spent all Christmas sat on your own in front of the TV with a loaded gun on your lap, trying to pluck up the courage to blast your own brains out, with even the Miranda Christmas Special failing to tip you over the edge then GREAT NEWS! The most depressing day of the year is just round the corner to give you the inspiration you need to splatter yourself into oblivion. Januray the 23rd is the day. See you there.
Traditionally, by the time that the third Monday of January rolls round, everyone’s fully immersed in that post-holiday comedown, blinking back tears as they stare up into a grey sky trying to remember the official name for that big orange ball that used to hang in the sky. Outside it’s colder than a whore’s heart, no one has a penny to their name and this year – as a special treat- everyone will be sweating and weeping on the toilet thanks to the norovirus. The only thing to look forward to is the sweet, sweet kiss of death.
To compound the misery, many people think that now’s a great time to stop drinking which will usually result in them feeling sh*t because they’re either struggling with abstinence or feeling guilty because they fucked it up after about three days for absolutely no reason other than a lack of will power, usually reserved for homeless meth addicts.
This year however, I’m showing some restraint. This year I’m joining in and attempting a dry January, and as a fox who likes nothing more than gin and MCAT it’s a fucking massive challenge let me tell you.
A couple of weeks ago I was chatting with my mate Sexy Chris (an owl) and he told me that I looked like I was going to die based on the fact that most of my hair had fallen out and I was lactating blood. I decided to sort my life out. See if I can’t squeeze another few months out of my wretched existence.
I started by swapping gin and Castrol GTX for water. Because I’m not a poof I haven’t had a drink of water for about 3 years. It’s disgusting, particularly the water available to me in Regents Canal, which is usually full of crap thanks to all the sh*t you lot hurl into it - the other day I almost choked to death on a pair of Ghostbusters underpants. I’ve also been drinking a lot of Um Bongo.
One of the other problems with going dry is going out. If you’re anything like me then a typical night out will involve getting leathered in a tunnel before wandering up the canal and finding a few swans to have sex with. Since I’ve been sober I just can’t seem to get the same kind of kick out of activities like this and all I ever want to do is stay at home in my filthy pit and read. At the moment I’m reading an autobiography by a wasp called Ian Hedge. It’s absolutely crap. Definitely not a page-turner. I’m basically bored to tears and, when you’re bored, it’s hard to stick to the programme. It’s tough.
It’s also difficult to find support from your mates through all the bravado that goes along with the drinking culture that dominates our society. The other day I was over at my mate Cwis Packham’s bungalow and I told him I was off the sauce. Typically Packham started acting the giddy goat and calling me a bender. The evening ended with him pouring an entire bottle of red wine over my back before shoving the bottle up my a*se which is the sort of thing I could really do without at the moment, to be honest.
Ultimately is it really worth the hassle? As soon as it’s February the 1st all of us abstainers will go out and drink so much that we’re vomiting out of our eye sockets and our health will plummet back to appalling new lows. Makes you wonder what the point is. It’s depressing.

Ideal for anyone who's more interested in getting assaulted in a transit van by a reservoir than learning how to drive

Name : Don't know, something like 'Vixen' or 'Cistern' or something like that. 

Tag line : Mmmmm. That smells nice.

Ingredients(?) : Fog, turmeric, tears, champagne and bees(98%) 

What does it smell like? : Not great. I'm not going to lie to you it doesn't smell great at all.

Who's advertising it on the bloody poster? : Well it's a fragrance for a man or a woman so maybe someone like Angelina Jolie for the girls and someone like Nick Faldo for the boys. 

The TV ad : Maybe something like...It's set in a big warehouse full tinned tuna. There's a man unbuttoning his shirt (maybe he works here in the warehouse? Maybe he's a fisherman - It's not clear). Anyway he's striding through this massive fuck off warehouse like he owns the place and he's fit as arseholes. (Everything's in black and white and we've got Sigur Ros pounding away in the background). The man walks up to a woman who's leaning against a digger and they start getting off with each other. After a couple of seconds the man explodes and turns into a swarm of bees. The woman screams and starts to have a panic attack. The camera zooms into the woman's eye and we see the bottle of this perfume. The voice over (Professor Brian Cox?) says "Mmmmm. That smells nice" and then it's basically just a case of sitting back and waiting for the bunce to come rolling in.

A magical animated adventure about a man who lives in a bus shelter and wakes up on Christmas Day to discover that he has the eyes of a pig. Nominated for the 1989 'Academy Award for Traumatic Yuletide Children's Films'. Music by Rick Astley. 

Join professional darts player Andy "The Viking" Fordham for this festive edition of his weekly cookery show. This week Andy is cooking a Christmas Dinner for one in his caravan on the Isle of Sheppey armed with only a tin of gammon, a parsnip, some supernoodles and a can of Branston Beans. (Contains very strong language and lots of crying)

In a bid to boost ratings, this year, Her Royal Highness will attempt to deliver her roundup of the year whilst undergoing various medieval medical practices including leeches, blood letting and trepanning. Press the red button, bet how far you think she'll get and you and your family could win a trip to Centre Parcs. 

Konnie Huq takes a look back over the most impressive hooves of 2014. 

A comedic look at the most half-witted Father Christmas impersonators caught on police dispatch cameras. This episode features a cumbersome Kriss Kringle who's forgotten where he's parked his van, a silly Santa who's had far too much to drink and a naughty St Nick who robs a petrol station at gunpoint before leading the police on a thrilling car chase that results in a fatal accident involving a family of five.

This year the alternative Christmas message comes from wacky Palestinian Muslim Cleric, Abu Quatada, live from his prison cell in Jordan following his recent extradition from the UK. It'll be gags aplenty as he propagates the killing of women and children and unleashes a veritable medley of pro al-Qaeda dogma whilst pulling crackers and wearing a funny hat. 

Family film about a man who tries to make money by digging up his back garden and selling bags of soil to people in his neighbourhood . 
Jack Kelloggs - Neil Morrissey
Kitty Peploe - Pauline Quirke
Digger - Sir Ian McKellen
The Compost Chap - Ross Kemp
Soil - Zoe Wanamaker
Cunt The Dog - Bingo Richardson 

A yuletide version of the talking head show where celebrities try and imagine what it might be like if they'd been born with little or no sight. In this episode Paul Ross describes how much he thinks he might struggle in a supermarket and Kate Silverton attempts to get into the mindset of a blind person who has to nurture a greenhouse full of herbs. 

7:00pm  THE NEWS - BBC1
In tonight's episode Peter Sissons talks about some of the things that have happened in the world over the past few hours. 
(Includes very strong language and scenes of graphic nudity from Sissons and his weatherman)

BBC4 take us into the small hours with this mesmerising eight hour documentary film about Brussels Sprouts. From their inception in the 13th century right through to their comical love/hate appeal in the modern day, this captivating and eye opening televisual adventure about the tiny cabbages will have the entire family on the edge of their seats pissing blood out of shear fascination and wonderment. Did you know, for instance that a single stalk of the  festive vegetable can hold as many as fifteen sprouts? Fuck me.

Buying a Christmas present for Mum is always a fucking ball ache we could do without. The old bag doesn't have any hobbies or interests so it's usually a quick trip to The Bodyshop to buy her a shitty scented candle and some mango-scented bum-scrub. Blow her socks off this year by getting her the new SOUP-ASAURAUS-REX, a six foot ceramic model of nature's most fearsome cretaceous carnivore that can hold up to two regular sized cans of soup.
No room in the kitchen cabinets? Not a problem with Soup-asaurus-Rex. Simply slot a couple of tins into the tiny porcelain forearms of the extinct reptile and it's job done. Mum won't know how she ever lived without this cumbersome kitchen thunder lizard.
order number - 7634584738957
£90.00 (Coming Soon: Beans-ceratops and Stegasaurus-Peas)

How many times have you looked around your front room only to realise that it doesn't feature a small-scale replica of Baghdad's infamous torture prison populated by slugs? Well worry no more with THE ABU GHRAIB SLUG TERRARIUM, an insect tank designed to hold up to 200 garden molluscs and painstakingly modelled to look identical to Saddam Hussein's Iraqi punishment dungeon.
FORGET ABOUT FISH TANKS! FORGET ABOUT THE TV! This exciting addition to your home will have the entire family gathered around the Perspex penitentiary watching with fascination as nature's slowest creepy-crawlies recreate exactly what it might look like if the Middles East's most terrifying penal colony was ever exclusively occupied by shell-less terrestrial gastropods.
There's no denying that slugs hold a dear place in all of our hearts, so make Christmas extra special this year with a gift that the entire family will enjoy for years to come.
order number - 6767456
£998.90 (Comes with 2 free slugs)

Christmas telly is getting worse every year (last year none of the channels showed Jurassic Park or Beethoven) and, subsequently, in this age of Smart TVs and internet accessibility, the family viewing experience seems to be dwindling before our very eyes. 
It's time to reclaim the the wonderful gift of familial joviality with THE BEST OF DOGS WITH THEIR EARS PIERCED 2013 DVD HD. Gather round and enjoy this 14 hour box-set featuring hundreds of dogs sitting motionless and staring at the camera with their ears pierced whilst adorned in a veritable medley of ear jewellery that will set your heart on fire. Shcnausers in studs, Poodles in hoops and Border Collies in those sort of clip on ones you get, they're on on show and backed by a soundtrack of Festive classics that'll make Christmas Day fly by in a magical haze of canine, aural bliss.
order number - 676
£12 (Rated 18 - (Scenes that some viewers might find shockingly inappropriate)

Celebrate the birth of Christ the way he would have wanted with this magnificent collectible plate featuring a re-imagining of that magical night in Bethlehem as seen through the eyes of Martin Clunes.
This 100% china (polyester) plate will deliver hours of festive cheer as the entire family gathers around the mantle piece in awe to witness what the birth of our lord and saviour might have looked like if the entire cast of the nativity were played by the jug eared star of Men Behaving Badly.
Don't risk ruining your Christmas and order this yuletide memento TODAY!
order number - 45345

Do you and your family want to live forever? Well now you can with the The Colin Hong Immortality Cactus. Cultivated in a remote part of Sri Lanka, this spiny houseplant will keep you and your family alive for the rest of time providing that you remain within a 100 metre radius of the 'infinity field' which it emits from its 'special needles' 24 hours a day.
No one likes dying so snap up this horticultural coffin dodging phenomenon NOW! 
It's green fingers or blue fingers - YOU DEDICE!
*YULETIDE OFFER - If you're not completely immortal within 30 days then we'll give you ALMOST half your money back. 
order number - 3423543456 
*Offer ends December 12th. May not work on dogs, the terminally ill,the elderly, Miley Cyrus and Firefighters

THINGS! We've all got too many of them, cluttering up our bungalows like a bunch of three dimensional arseholes. This year why not give someone you love the experience of a lifetime by sending them around the British Isles on the country's 'second favourite' garlic-themed coach service?
They'll visit Didcot, Chichester and Macclesfield on this two week adventure whilst being surrounded by crates and boxes containing hundreds of bulbs of garlic, the onion's pungent cousin.
The trip also includes a daily quiz about Italy's premier bread embellishment as well as an ironic trip to the Northhampton Vampire Museum.
If you know someone who loves garlic as much as they enjoy long coach journeys on Britain's exciting motorway system then they'll be over the moon with this thrilling two week vacation.
order number - 0879
£2990 (all inclusive)

Cutting things with scissors can be very tedious. It's the same old sound we've heard time and time again. 'Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip'. Change the bloody record why don't you?
Not a problem with Davidson's Racist Scissors, the hand operated shearing implement that delivers various cries of racial hatred with every incision.
No ethnicity is safe from the mindless ignorance spouted out by these lightweight alloy bastards, available in a range of colours and varying degrees of right wing political small-mindedness from 'slightly ill-informed' to our brand new 'Waffen SS' range which will fill your room with terrifying howls of discrimination with very "snip".
order number - 08666
£6.66 (Now available - Left handed homophobic secateurs)

Get your hands on Date Rape, the rohyphnol based board game that will have the entire family scratching their heads and asking "Who dunnit?".
order number - 6708000
£35.99 (illegal in more than 200 countries worldwide)

Your daughter will be captivated by the Geoff Bunting Doll Collection, a series of 53, beautifully hand crafted dolls featuring the face of a scaffolder from Croydon called Geoff Bunting. 
Geoff is currently awaiting sentencing after is was discovered that he fly-tipped almost three tons of plasterboard and rubble into an RSPB nature reserve last November. Each of his dresses are interchangeable and are made from exquisite, high-quality fabrics  Geoff is already on parole after a violent incident involving a dog in the Lewisham branch of Wetherspoons and could now be facing a ten stretch in the big house.
All Geoff Bunting Dolls come with exciting and unique accessories  including lollipops, teddy bears and even a potty that makes toilet training Geoff a piece of piss.
Geoff beats his wife. 
order number - 64357
£25.03 (Per Geoff