Fake "Doctor" GillianMcKeith is a hateful, vile self centred munchkin of a woman who for the last 10 years or so has made a career of chastising fat people on tv.
Her fave way for figuring out what is wrong with her clients ( which everyone else can see just by looking at them) is to look at and prod there poo,
She then forces the poor rotund folk to live on broccoli and mung beans for a few months during which they lose weight which lets face it is hardly surprising cos who the hell wants to eat broccoli or mung beans?
Now i suppose it kinda goes without saying i tend to work most if not all Saturday nights, after all when else would a taxi driver make any money these days.
So it no surprise that i never really see what passes for Saturday night TV.
Well tonight was the exception to the rule.
I had the night off due to a certain puppy (im looking at you ruby) having a weak bladder that leaked on my back seat despite only being in the cab for 2 frickin minutes and having been to the loo just before she got in!
Strictly come dancing made my night and put me back in a good mood.
Or more accurately that old battle axe Miss Ann Widdecombe former member of parliament on Strictly come dancing made my night.
She looked like big bird and moved like a baby hippo with no sense of rhythm and when she was spun around the floor I was in stitches, but she was fantastic caring not a jot what the judges thought just enjoying herself.
She single handedly made the show of course the judges hated her attempt at the Samba.
The judges gave her the lowest score ever on the show but with any luck the public vote will save her as it has done for the last few weeks.
For the first time ever I even voted myself on a TV vote, it was worth the 15p Ann was priceless.
The French President is sitting in his office when his telephone rings.
'Hallo, Mr. Sarkozy!' a heavily accented voice said. 'This is Paddy down at the Harp Pub in County Clare , Ireland .. I am ringing to inform you that we are officially declaring war on you!
We voted to reject the Lisbon treaty!
Well, Paddy,' Sarkozy replied, This is indeed important news! How big is your army?
Right now,' says Paddy, after a moment's calculation, there is myself, me Cousin Sean, me next door neighbour Seamus, and the entire darts team from the pub.
That makes eleven!
Sarkozy paused. 'I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100,000 men in my army waiting to move on my command.'
Right says Paddy. 'I'll have to ring you back.'
Sure enough, the next day, Paddy calls again.
'Mr. Sarkozy, the war is still on.
We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!' 'And what equipment would that be Paddy?' Sarkozy asks.
'Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy's farm tractor.'
Sarkozy sighs amused.
'I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and 5,000 armoured personnel carriers.
Also, I have increased my army to 150,000 since we last spoke.'
'Saints preserve us!' says Paddy. 'I'll have to get back to you.'
Sure enough, Paddy rings again the next day.
'Mr. Sarkozy, the war is still on!
We have managed to get ourselves airborne!
We have modified Jackie McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four boys from the Shamrock Bar have joined us as well!'
Sarkozy was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat.
'I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to 200,000!'
'Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!' says Paddy, 'I will have to ring you back.'
Sure enough, Paddy calls again the next day.
'Top o' the mornin', Mr. Sarkozy! I am sorry to inform you that we have had to call off the war.'
'Really? I am sorry to hear that,' says Sarkozy. 'Why the sudden change of heart?'
'Well,' says Paddy, 'we had a long chat over a few pints of Guinness and we decided there is no feckin' way we can feed 200,000 prisoner