Did you happen to catch The Wright Stuff medical phone-in last Tuesday morning? If not, you missed the most revolting 15 minutes of television I’ve witnessed in a long time.
First to phone in was a man whose penis had gone all bent out of shape thanks to his bad diet (for examples of a bad diet see Piqued). This wasn’t all that bad, considering what came next.
Because next up was a man who, when he sat at his computer and farted, had an oil he described as being ‘like that liquid on the top of a curry’ leak out of his arse and contaminate his chair. He didn’t describe whether he was cursed with this mysterious arse-oil when he farted on other seats, so I was led to believe it only happened when he farted at his computer. The doctor suggested it might be pancreatic cancer – an illness I had no idea made you fart oil whilst looking at the internet.
Next was a man who’d picked up arse-worms whilst trekking around India. The doctor suggested he look at his arse in the mirror but, arse-worms being the shy little devils they are, he’d have to catch them off guard. The plan was to lull them into a false sense of security by turning off the lights, then catch them in the act of wriggling out of the guy’s anus by shining a torch at them as he crouched in the dark straddling a mirror looking at his own arsehole.
Finally there was the guy who, when attempting a fart, ended up belching instead. Of course, this being the most disgusting phone-in show ever devised by man, the belch stank of farts. He wasn’t best pleased. Who would be? Farting out of their mouth like that? Imagine if you did it at a dinner party? Or in Smith’s?
For years, my grandfather has been thundering at me that television has gone down the pan. For three decades I’ve dismissed his cries and wails as the moans of a hoary old misery guts stuck in a time-warp of Morecambe & Wise Christmas Specials and Dad’s Army. After seeing this … this … whatever it was, I am now in complete agreement with him.
17 Comments
No I’m afraid I missed it, not being a work-shy rake I was forced to go into work and contribute to society, as opposed to lolling about on my couch eating diseased food from my microwave with one hand down my trousers
Good day, sir
It really is the decline of Western civilization.
So, what you’re saying is that, unlike me, you don’t have a job where you can lounge around in your own house watching shit TV and occasionally doing a light dusting of work? Well them’s the breaks, you office drone.
*Decides to take the day off, again*
Bloody Norah, a bit of fart juice and a few worms – hardly worth devoting an entire programme to it. Unless the same bloke was suffering from each complaint, at the same time. I suppose that could be quite tiresome but it would make a cracking BBC3 programme
Yes but Napoleon lives in Sheffield – home of all that is third-rate and shit.
THEMS the breaks.
NP. Is that what you call a day off? Dusting and watching awful television?
Tell me, do you also sit about in pink slippers and a negligee stuffing Black Magic chocolates into your potty mouth waiting for the milkman?
Swineshead lived in Sheffield at the time in his life when he was a surly, introspective teenager who thought he knew it all. No wonder he didn’t appreciate the place … too busy gazin’ at his own navel and trying to impress the girls at the Student’s Union. Want to know about the merits of a place? Don’t ask an 18 year old student – they have a rather skewed view that revolves mainly around beer and not having their individuality fully understood by the rest of us.
Fair point, but it’s still a shithole.
I have to disagree. I’ve walked the length and breadth of the place and some of it is really rather lovely. It has more parks and trees and green spaces than any other city I can think of and, lest we forget, they’ve knocked quite a bit of it down since your day and built some interesting stuff in its place. I think you should maybe give it a second chance. Now you’re rushing at lightning speed towards 30 you’ll have learnt SOME appreciation (unless you’re an idiot, which you ain’t) for things that p’raps passed you by ten years ago.
So fuck you.
‘SOME’ there was written in caps by mistake. Damn these sausage fingers!
By the way – are you still off the fags?
I’ll be in Leeds this weekend. Will I need jabs?
Sw – yep.
Pi – The cholera epidemic’s under control, but I’d still recommend Malaria and Scabes.
I can’t recommend scabies highly enough, it’s a wonderful parasitic infection and gives you a lovely buzz around the pubis.
Sounds lovely. Doesn’t sound as delightful as farting oil when you’re doing spreadsheets.
Funnily enough, when I was a student in Sheffield, lolling around in the front room, surrounded by empty cider bottles, drug paraphenalia and pornographic magazines, Richard and Judy (then still on This Morning) did an item on testicular cancer which had a full screen shot of a mans scrotum at around 11 in the morning. It was quite a shock to wake up to that.
I remember that very show. If memory serves I was ‘researching’ what it was like to be an alcoholic on the dole at the time, and watched a lot of This Morning. Thanks for reminding me of those heady days wallowing in my filth, thanks.
*reaches for bottle of paracetemols*