All Hail Frankie Boyle

Hello,
Obviously it has come to my attention that Michael Jackson has pegged it and whilst I was never a fan and remain somewhat bewildered by the massive media overreaction even I felt pity for him. Ending up as he did weighing a pathetic eight stone, bald and drug addled. In a sane world everyone around him who allowed him, evidently a severely mentally ill individual, get into such a state would be jailed or shot or both. Then again in a sane world he wouldn't have been half as rich or famous as he was and I daresay a lot happier.

Still for those who've had quite enough of this manufactured outpouring of grief and I exclude long term Michael Jackson fans from this as opposed to the hearse chasers here is the column that got Frankie Boyle the mutually agreed bullet from the Daily Record. It's a chucklesome antidote as these things go.

We can also learn a lesson from the example set down by Mr Clairwil who has barely moved in his entire life and as far as I can tell eats pasta, owns a fine head of hair, reads, sleeps, watches TV and little else. Like a non-racist Queen Mum without the hat collection. In contrast Michael Jackson worked flat out from an early age, ate fuck all, danced, made mediocre records as soundtracks to naff videos. Yesterday Mr Clairwil reached the grand old age of 51 and look at poor old Michael Jackson dead at 50 with not a hair on his head.

In other reasons to be cheerful Steven Wells is dead. Suddenly the world feels better written. If I'm not mistaken there might be a little less badly punctuated, manufactured adolescent petulance in the air. Like a eunuch in a harem he saw it done, knew how it should be done but had neither the balls or talent to do it himself. A dreadful music writer who couldn't handle anything that didn't square with his dogmatic outlook. A sort of lefty Littlejohn for people at the masturbation stage, a manky old man who hung about kiddie rag lest his lack of talent get him laughed out a wage on a grown up publication. Another grotesque off the list. Reading 'Susan' Wells attempt at teenage rage was like being encountered by an eighty year old at a bus stop who raises her skirt to display crotchless panties and begs you to admit she's still got 'it'. Oh and while I'm at it 'Susan' Wells. He can take that attempt at solidarity with the ladies and shove it up his arse -we've got more than enough tits of our own without men trying to frame us for shit writing. Tosser.

Cheerio