RIGHT now, there’s really not much to laugh about.
Wars, riots, epidemics, Labour . . . it’s all just pretty damn grim.
(Still, while the Government implodes, at least Paddington Bear has got his British passport thanks to Home Secretary Yvette Cooper.)
Anyway, the woke police have waded in once more to ensure there’s even less to LOL over.
Ricky Gervais, a chubby little man (his own words) forever on the cusp of cancellation, has landed in hot water with an advertising watchdog.
The multimillionaire, who co-owns a vodka brand, has seen a series of mickey-taking ads banned from TV.
In one, he introduces the company, Dutch Barn Vodka (confusingly, an English brand), explaining it’s environmentally friendly but, “Bad for people; it can really f*** you up”. Obvs alcoholism isn’t a barrel of laughs.
But this, quite patently, is a gag. As anyone who has survived a three-day hangover will testify.
OK, so another joke, penned for Halloween, was more punchy. “If you really want to scare children, tell them about priests and Seventies DJs and my Uncle Sid,” he says.
“Proper wrong’un. Murdered in jail, eventually.”
Clearcast, which vets TV adverts, said the subject would cause “widespread offence”.
Killjoys have also moaned about the cost (£29 from Sainsbury’s) as if Ricky, a bloke who put Slough on the map, should be selling bottled ethanol at 90p a pop.
In a world of PC sheep, and people scouring X to find cause for cancellation, Ricky Gervais is a refreshing, genuinely hilarious, say-it-as-it-is comedian.
Because, as a Brit, and a CLM (chubby little man), he shouldn’t get above his station. (But obvs no one questions Brad Pitt’s rosé, George Clooney’s tequila or Ryan Reynolds’ gin . . . although, tbf, hopefully everyone is questioning Diddy’s Ciroc vodka.)
Ricky shot back over claims of cost, stating people should have “worked harder” if they can’t afford his goods.
Clearly. A. Joke.
Last week he kicked off his latest tour, making his usual ill-taste gags. One, about Jimmy Savile, was beyond dark — but, again, so, so clearly meant to be bone-close.
In a world of PC sheep, and people scouring X to find cause for cancellation, Ricky Gervais is a refreshing, genuinely hilarious, say-it-as-it-is comedian.
Off air, he’s also a kind, compassionate man — one who donates millions to animal charities and gives his time to help those in need.
Frothing at mouth
Sure, he makes ostensibly poor-taste gags against so-called minority groups — and some might argue by so doing he’s perpetuating racist/sexist/xenophobic tropes — but he is so obviously telling them tongue-in-cheek.
Last year a televised trailer for his sell-out Armageddon show ruffled leftie feathers.
The result?
“Thanks to everyone who complained about this trailer and even signed a petition to get #Armageddon removed from Netflix,” tweeted Ricky, “you helped it win a Golden Globe & become the most watched special in the world.”
Quite.
Because in a vociferous world of frothing-at-the-mouth anger and a desire to be offended at every little thing, the silent majority of folk see Ricky Gervais’ sardonic, biting, observational humour for what it is. Humour.
I really hope (non-alcoholic) people buy Ricky’s vodka, and enjoy every 40 per cent ABV mouthful.
Which would really stick in the throat of the dour Left.
Potty loo snaps can bog off
SO, celebs posing, pants down, on the loo is now a “thing”. A trend. The height of cultural sophistication and meta irony. Et cetera.
Last week Kim Kardashian happily posed for a photo, sitting on the toilet, leather trousers bunched up around her knees, and her hands, how do I put this delicately, looking like they were poised mid-wipe.
Other insane (or attention-seeking, depending on your world view) stars to have followed suit are Madonna, Billie Eilish, Kim’s sister Kourtney, supermodel Winnie Harlow and Halle Berry, an early adopter, who started this madness in 2017.
Genuinely, if anyone burst in to take a photo of me on the loo, the toilet brush would soon be shoved up places they really wouldn’t want it.
Raging.
An easy live for thieves
OF all the delightful epidemics currently engulfing this country – obesity, vaping, poverty, etc – shoplifting is quickly becoming the most pernicious.
Reported offences are up to nearly half a million, a rise of almost a third from last year’s record-breaking thieving bonanza.
Weirdly, Waitrose appears to be the supermarket du jour for fingersmiths.
But the whole, grubby enterprise is hitting the economy, and costing retailers £1.8billion a year as well as whacking law-abiding shoppers in the pocket.
My local Waitrose – largely “manned” by electronic, self-service tills – deploys just one poor security guard, who stands there shuffling beside the wine shelves, appearing too scared to confront thieves lest he get wrestled to the floor by professional gangs.
Shoplifting has a human cost, too.
But why aren’t stores employing MORE [human] security staff to help deter shoplifters and bolster both the economy and customer faith?
Two birds, one stone, surely.
WORCESTER City Council bosses are considering plans to put local seagulls on the contraceptive Pill.
The number of gulls has apparently shot up in recent months, damaging locals’ cars and homes, and disrupting sleep with their screeching.
Expect to see any day now in Worcester: Spotty, hormonal birds with giant boobs and raging mood swings.
Reeves’ trick ‘n’ cheat
RACHEL Reeves’ Cup Final is tomorrow.
The Chancellor’s leaky cauldron of a budget will hit the front pages on Halloween, meaning she will inevitably be mocked up as a witch. (Well done, PR chaps, well done)
From all that we know thus far, it promises to be a socialist checklist – rewarding unionists and (some) public sector workers, and hampering ambition, talent and hard work every step of the way.
Small business owners, then – many of whom work seven days a week to build their dream – are officially not “working people”.
In short, working hard or being clever is not in Starmer’s dystopian guide book.
OVER the weekend The Times covered the story of the unfortunate theft of 950 wheels of cheddar.
The London-based Neal’s Yard Dairy reported the loss of 22 tonnes of the cheese to the police, who, sadly, have yet to make an arrest.
While crime is no laughing matter, the official Met Police statement is probably the most British thing you’ll ever read.
Reacting to the bizarre scenario, they simply said: “On Monday, 21 October, we received a report of the theft of a large quantity of cheese from a manufacturer based in Southwark. Enquiries are ongoing into the circumstances.”
Sport rox, so try it
ON Sunday, I self-flagellated – aka took part in Britain’s fastest growing sport, Hyrox.
More than half a million athletes, and me, have given it a go this year.
The truly beastly event sees participants run a total of 8km, interspersed with sled pushes and pulls, burpee broad jumps (don’t ask), rowing, skiing (on a machine), farmers’ carries (lugging two 16kg kettlebells 200 metres), sandbag lunges and, the finisher, wall balls – which sees one lobbing a 4kg ball against a target in the sky 100 times.
It was hell.
But also brilliantly fun, grinding it out alongside 1,400-plus women to a backdrop of DJs and banner-waving, cheering spectators. (The men’s and doubles events run on different days.)
But, and this is the beauty of Hyrox, with a bit of training, it really is open to all, including those in wheelchairs.
The oldest age category is 85-89 – and some octogenarian athletes have now become Instagram stars.
Alas, at the Birmingham NEC, I managed to incur a two-minute time penalty after the first exercise, by dozily running out the “in” barrier. Raging.
Still, I finished in a time of 1hr 22/24mins (depending on whether or not we ignore said time penalty), coming 30th in my age category – which, as a lady, I am under no obligation to reveal.
So, if you’re reading this . . . why not?
LAST week I wrote about brave Chris Hoy’s prostate cancer battle, calling for earlier testing after he said his dad and grandfather had it, but he wasn’t tested.
The NHS won’t routinely test the under-50s. But reader David Green pointed out PSA testing kits are available from Amazon (and other retailers) for round a tenner and urged readers to self-test.
Men, please: Do it.
