So the archetypal stupid gobby chav married Gary Wrong of whatever the hell his name is – I would rather take a pair of bolt croppers to my toes than submit myself screaming to having to watch or read any of the media coverage. In fact I am possibly not alone in hoping the consistently ghastly Jade Goody soon dies from her apparently terminal cancer: Not only would this be a victory for good taste & decorum, despite the fact that she has whelped twice, her untimely demise would limit further damage to the gene pool. Now that I come to think of it, given that she is the bastard progeny of a reality TV series, we could televise her death in HD & all hold a party to celebrate both the ‘final episode’, consoling ourselves that there is thankfully very little chance of a second season. In fact that is such a good idea that today I shall write to her snake like publicist Max Clifford & offer my services as a cameraman for the extreme close up terminal breath scene…just to be very very certain.

Then on Sunday night there was another one of Kate Whats-her-name’s acceptance speeches …all very miss-able along with every other celebraty sob-a-thon which so singularly failed to raise a flicker of interest in your humble correspondent that he spent the evening researching telescopic rifle sights. A worthy enterprise in my opinion. However judging for just about every newspaper that I have opened this week it would appear that a feel good flick about some Indians won some award or other

Hit British film Slumdog Millionaire has won the top prize at the Academy Awards, winning eight Oscars including best director and best picture.

Well isn’t that just fine & dandy. Simpering liberals can now all get back into their limos & go home feeling a little better about themselves & mainstream media talking heads, in crowing tones, can harp on about how this could never have happened under a Bush administration & it is only probably only because of Obama’s direct intervention that such a (cough cough) masterpiece has been so rightly recognized … like I should care, which incidentally I don’t, in any way shape or form.

Italians design sportscars that that can lead to a native uprising in the nether regions, Johnny Argy turns out the best polo players, & Indians live in squalor. They will also continue to do so in very much the same manner as I shall continue not to give a monkeys about their ‘plight’ just as long as my takeaway curry is ready when the Star of India restaurant said it would be.

If I want to watch a feel good film about India, I will watch North West Frontier again & fantasize about the redoubtable Captain Scott, played with perfect abloom by Kenneth More, ordering his Havildar to turn a Maxim gun on the entire audience at the Academy Awards. Now that would be worth watching. The nobilty of the slums my a*se