In Praise of BBC 6Music

The Duck's Top Ten of 2010: In Praise of BBC 6Music

Another year is dragged screaming into a sound-proofed room, bludgeoned to death with hammers and buried under the patio of history, writes Berkshire resident Peter Sutcliffe. Meanwhile, back in the world of I Am Not Mad...

2010 was the year I fell back in love with music, and I've got the BBC to thank for that. If they hadn't decided to close down the BBC 6Music radio station (a ludicrous decision that was thankfully reversed), I wouldn't have heard half of the songs I enjoyed this year.Thanks to 6Music, I shall be clinically deaf by the time I am fifty.

I know that any top ten is pretty subjective stuff and quite possibly the worst thing you can do as a blog article, so for every song that I like, at least 90% of you will either hate or shrug "Well, I've never heard of them."

10. Gypsy and the Cat - Time to Wander
The perfect fusion of Australian and French pop music, because you can never get too much Australian and French fusion pop music

9. Broken Social Scene - All to All
I listened to some other Broken Social Scene stuff, and thoroughly disliked them. This is pretty good, though

8. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Zero
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Unless you hate it, then: No. No No.

7. Delphic - Counterpoint
"The next New Order". Except they're nothing like New Order.

6. Wolf Gang - Lions in Cages
Another monstrously talented individual pretending to be a band when, in fact, it's just him.

5. The National - Bloodbuzz Ohio
Miserablists strike gold with this marvellous slice of misery

4. Gorillaz - On Melancholy Hill
"Oh, I've heard of them. Pretentious Mockney bastards."

3. Freelance Whales - Generator Second Floor
Charming band from New York who really ought to be introduced to...

2. Megan Washington - Sunday Best


In which Megan Washington (with whom I am not obsessed) is NOT my top song of the year. That accolade goes to...

1. Sage Francis - Best of Times


Because 2010 was the year I went mad, got better, and fell in love with this. Trust me kid: It's not the end of the world.

Happy New Year.

On playground fun

On playground fun

"What's going on there?" asks my charming daughter Scaryduckling as we drive past a children's playground near the seafront in Weymouth.

"What? Where?" I say, my concentration entirely given over to not driving the car off a bridge and into the harbour.

"Those kids in that playground - that's either their grandad with them, or it's a paedo."

At length, we come to a halt in a traffic queue and I am able to see what she means."

"No," I say, "It's far worse than you think."

We wind down the windows to hear the words "Dance, hobo, dance!" echoing up from the playground.

"They've kidnapped a tramp."

On living in The Matrix

On living in The Matrix

"Oh God, Dad, these people are going to make me late for work."

As usual, Scaryduckling isn't quite on time for her Saturday job at Weymouth's finest tat emporium (marshmallow willies and cuddly meerkats a speciality), and her lift to work has been slowed down by a little old lady in a Nissan Micra driving like she's behind the wheel of a hearse.

Luckily, we too are in a Nissan Micra. An excellent one with jet engines mounted with afterburners, warp coils and phased plasma rifles.

I nip down a side street, take a diversion through a back alley - tramps diving for their very lives - narrowly avoid a paperboy as we rattle down some steps behind the fire station, to emerge, turning on a sixpence with a little help from the handbrake *just* in front of our dusty-minged arch-nemesis.

I catch my reflection in the rear-view mirror.

Above my head - for the briefest of moments - are the words "Player One: +2XP", confirming what I've always suspected: We're all trapped in a first-person shoot-em-up.

This can only be a good thing. Once I get past the boss battle, I unlock the Bugatti Veyron.

Job Interview

Job Interview

"So," I asked of our most promising candidate yet, "What do you do when you're not at work?"

That standard question that reveals oh-so-much about our future employees.

"Well," she replied, "I'm a Line Dancing Pilates instructor."

"You're a what what whaty what?"

"Line Dancing Pilates. It's like Line Dancing. And it's like Pilates. Only with the fun and health benefits of both."

"Please leave."

NOT SENT FROM MY IPHONE

NOT SENT FROM MY IPHONE

I got an email from a business contact the other day.

"Blah blah blah", it said, "blah blah blah de blah."

Followed up with: "Blah blah de drone blah"

And signing of with: "Sent from my iPhone"

Enough.

I don't have an iPhone because I am not a ponce.

To this end I have changed my email signature:

"Not sent from my iPhone because I AM NOT A PONCE."

Just to make things totally clear: NOT. A. PONCE.

Weekend Festive Video

Weekend Festive Video

St Etienne and Tim Burgess - I Was Born on Christmas Day

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

I know it. This is going to be The Best Christmas Walford's Ever Seen.

On deep philosophical inquiry. And arsing about

On deep philosophical inquiry. And arsing about

Poor dead Thomas Edison once said: "Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration", and he should know having won medals for his prodigious sweating throughout his lifespan.

He obviously did not have access to the internet, for these days the saying would be: "Genius is 0.1% inspiration, 0% perspiration and 99.9% arsing about on Twitter".

Yeah, our atheist pals point out that blind faith in an invisible sky zombie, his lucky story book and a bunch of blokes in funny hats who knew larger blokes armed with swords and easy access to kindling led to much the same result. For eg: Centuries of arsing about and nothing getting done.

What did lack of scientific advancement give us? The plague, that's what. And bald blokes who were really, really good at drawing capital letters.

We're over that now, and by rights we ought to have all the monkey butlers we can eat.

So: Where's my monkey butler?

I'll tell you where. Nowhere. And that's because all the monkey butler scientists are arsing about on Twitter thinking up #toiletsitcoms or #insertthewordbuttocksintomovietitles instead of working on monkey butler technology.

We cannot let our civilisation fail now that we've come this close to the Holy Grail of Simian Domestic Help.

Twitter MUST BE STOPPED.

Happy car / Angry car

Happy car / Angry car

Awww! Look at his cute ickle face!

It is THE LAW that whenever you spot one of these Daihatsu Copens, you MUST shout out "Happy car!" I am nearly 45 years of age.

On the other hand:

BMW Minis = Right miserable bastards.

Mobility scooters = Horribly, relentlessly cheerful and MUST BE STOPPED.

FIRE ALARM

FIRE ALARM

Tuesday. 9.45am. Coffee is served. Some hardy types are already looking dreamily out of the window.

"There now follows a test of the fire alarm system. When you hear the fire alarm, please do not evacuate the building."

Ten minutes earlier...

...an excitable, bearded figure is seen talking to camera in the car park.

"Earlier today, we replaced all the fire alarms in the headquarters of Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs with a Brown Noise Generator. When it goes off, it will ensure that each and every living soul in that accursed building will involunarily soil their undergarments.

"Now, with the flip of a switch, let's see if they're GAME FOR A LAUGH!"

They were not Game for a Laugh.

On the Scaryduckworth-Lewis method for rating things for excellence - 2011 Edition

On the Scaryduckworth-Lewis method for rating things for excellence - 2011 Edition

It has come to my attention that I have not updated the Scaryduckworth-Lewis Method of Rating Things for Excellence list (the internet's number one at-a-glance table for rating things for excellence) for a good 18 months. In that time, the world has changed, and the list is looking decidedly out-of-date.

And with the new year, the list has been comprehensively re-written to discard the dead wood that is Sharon Osborne, Tess Jowell and the Beeny-Allsopp axis. In comes entirely new sacrificial blood that is the very measure of our society as we begin the second decade of the 21st Century.

The Scaryduckworth-Lewis method for rating things for excellence - 2011 Edition

0. Ann Widdecombe dancing the paso doble. On Gillian McKeith's poo-spattered face
1. Margaret Thatcher fixing you in the eye in the lobby of the Conservative Party Conference, demanding "Lick me, Dennis"
2. The Duchess of Cornwall, feasting on barely-dead roadkill, giving you the eye as blood, blood, BLOOD streams over her naked torso

3. Susan Boyle inviting you back to her place to stroke her pussy, only to find that her cat went solo over artistic differences
4. Waking up from a night of barely-remembered ecstasy for Force's Sweetheart Dame Vera Lynn to roll over and whisper "We'll meet again"
5. Home Secretary Theresa May using police 'kettling' techniques for her own sickening pleasure

6. Katie Price and her evil twin Jordan fighting over the riding crop and bicycle pump
7. Sarah Palin frotting herself against a grizzly bear
8. Kerry Katona refusing to go to Iceland until she's coughed up the last of yesterday's Babycham

9. Your proud protruberance disappearing to the size of an airbed nozzle as Madonna offers you a happy finish with her granny claw hands
10. Fern Britton, smeared with Ryvita and cottage cheese, pointing hungrily at your sausage platter
11. Maggie Philbin. The perfectly-formed yardstick from which all female beauty and character should be measured

12. Cheryl Cole and the ginger one out of Girls Aloud having a "reet canny time, like" in a tin bath brimming with cold chicken korma
13. Michelle Obama posing for "White House"
14. Carla Bruni, quaking with breathless excitement at a private screening of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

15. Amy Pond travelling back in time to last night to create the best time paradox ever. In your face, Asimov!
16. Two Minogues, One Cup
17. Konnie Huq. Sticky-back plastic. Home-made, battery-powered Olympic torch.

18. Nigella Lawson, on her knees, begging to taste your gravy
19. Countdown's Rachel Riley looking up swears with a lightly-oiled Susie Dent in Dictionary Corner
20. Kate Middleton discovering the forbidden delights of Princess Beatrice and her "Royal Wee"

We have, in the past, been accused by some quarters of sexism over the all-female make-up of this system. And the booboys (not to mention boogirls) would be absolutely correct. So, to put things right, we present:

The Scaryduckworth-Lewis method for rating things for excellence - Girls' Edition

0. Chuckle Brothers spit-roast. "To me, to you"
11. Harry Hill in a roll-neck sweater
20. John Barrowman using it as a skipping rope

Yeah, it needs a bit of work.

Weekend Video

Weekend Video

Lemon Jelly - Space Walk



A tribute to poor, dead Bernard Matthews: "Bootiful. Bootiful. Just bootiful."

On the futility of fortune tellers

On the futility of fortune tellers

"Right," she says, "I'll be off, then."

"So," I ask, "What's this thing you're going to?"

"It's a psychic dinner."

"A WHAT?"

"A psychic dinner. We all have a chicken-inna-basket meal, and these palm readers an' that come and tell you your fortune."

I am incredulous.

"I am incredulous. And you've actually paid money for this?"

"Yes. Yes I have."

"And what time will you be back?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me."

I facepalm.

On the approved use of soup

On the approved use of soup

A bowl is placed in front of me.

"What's that?"

"Soup," she says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's Spring Vegetable and Herb."

"It looks like the result of a kidney infection if you ask me."

"Well - if you must know - it's organic, slimming and very nutricious."

And that, dear reader is yet another example of the BLASPHEMY that is rife in the kitchens and dining rooms of this once-proud nation. There exists a list of officially-approved, ponce-free soups that should be served, lest you be accused of being a ponce. Failure to comply is punishable by CRAB JUSTICE.

- Heinz Cream of Tomato (Note: Variations involving "A hint of parsley" are wrong and a shortcut to The Way of the Ponce. " A hint of the Devil's pubes", more like)

- Heinz Chicken Noodle

- Duck (starring the Marx Brothers)

Every Saturday since I was a lad, my lunch has consisted of a tin of tomato soup and half a loaf of buttered, fresh bread. No wonder I'm a bloater, but that is the price one pays. Once, my father attempted to jazz it up with extra tomatoes, herbs and other ingredients out of the Larder of Ponce. That is the kind of trauma that makes serial killers.

On international justice

On international justice

In the line of duty, I had a look at the website of the International Criminal Court, and to be perfectly honest, they don't seem to be that busy. And seeing as we're all paying for these people to sit around the Hague out of our taxes, we should be palming some work in their direction while they wait for the homocidal maniacs and ruthless dictators to hand themselves in.

To this end, I have - in the past - suggested a few causes they should be taking up, (for eg: mime, in-store muzak, those Halifax TV adverts) but there is plenty more that they can be getting on with.

A short list of things that I dislike that should be stamped out by the International Criminal Court, which I pay for out of my taxes:

- Phil Collins, People who like Phil Collins and the very idea of Phil Collins

- Ditto: Richard Littlejohn

- Anybody who has ever owned a copy of UB40 and Chrissie Hynde's "I Got You Babe"

- Anybody who has ever watched a Katie Price, Peter Andre, Kerry Katona or any other celebrity reality TV programme on ITV2 and put it on "Series Link" on their Sky box

- People who knock at your door while you're having dinner to ask if you're happy with your energy supplier. I'm not - they're a bunch of See You Next Tuesdays with unlimited access to my bank account, but I'm in the middle of my dinner you grinning bastard

- People who design and build mini-roundabouts

- The person who always asks questions at the end of a meeting when somebody asks "Any Questions?"

- People who phone TV votes after the lines have closed whose vote will not count but may still be charged for their phone call, please see itv.com for more details

- BLASPHEMERS who put milk in their cup AFTER pouring the tea

- Creationists

One hopes, after the briefest, most one-sided of trials, appropriately painful and fatal punishments can be meted out.

On cutting a deal with Alan Sugar

On cutting a deal with Alan Sugar

Lord Sugar's got a book out. You might have noticed him plugging it with little or no shame all over the press and the internet. Buggered if I'm paying twenty quid for it, not when my excellent work is less than half the price. I'll drop him a line.

Dear Lord of Sugar

Congratulations on your recent teabagging of that no good cur Piers Morgan in the World Teabagging Championships.

As a vaguely successful local businessman, I am intrigued by the release of your autobiography "What you see is what you get".

As a matter of fact, I am so intrigued that I have promised not to show my annoyance at your relentless plugging of your product on social media such as Twitter and Facebook.

It has come to such a pass, that people are beginning to refer to such endless self-promotion as 'Lordsugaring'. I followed your example and have Lordsugared my own book until close friends have told me to (and I quote) "Die in a Fire".

My question to you is this: As a vaguely successful local businessman, I wish to maximise my profits. So, when's your book going to be £2.99 in The Works? Buggered if I'm going to pay full price, when there's clearly a bit of slack built into the system. Cut us a deal, fella.

Your pal

Albert O'Balsam

I'm sure old fungus face will reward such upfront entrepreneurship.

On there being a claim where there art blame

On there being a claim where there art blame

Oh Lordy, here's another of them ancient adverts. Remember: "This servyce is verily no winne, no Danegeld"

Just goes to prove there's nothing original left in this world*.

* Mostly because I've stolen it.

Weekend Video

Weekend Video

Massive Attack - Unfinished Sympathy



A thing of rare and great beauty. This song is nearly 20 years old.

On sexy driving

On sexy driving

The Fragrant Mrs Duck tells me that my driving's "sexy".

After years of "AAAAARGH! Mind that lamp post!" she's finally come round to my way of thinking and has realised that I'm not so much mounting the pavement but sticking to the racing line.

"Thank you," I say, "Thank you for saying that my driving is sexy."

"No. No I didn't."

"I distinctly heard you tell your dad that I'm an erotic driver."

"Erratic," she says, "Erratic."

Oh.

On incredible discoveries turning out to be something quite underwhelming

On incredible discoveries turning out to be something quite underwhelming

"Dad! Dad!" the boy says, "I've found out the most amazing thing!"

"What?" I ask, torn away from the brain-sapping excitement of the X Factor, "This had better be better than the brain-sapping excitement of the X Factor."

"If you dial 123, this guy at the other end of the phone tells you the time."

"..."

"That's just BRILLIANT!"

"That, my son, is called the Speaking Clock. And it's been going forever."

"Oh. Right."

"And I'm blogging this."

"You git."


And a bit of a hero-gram

Remember my recent biscuit-related woe at the hands of a packet of shoddy Co-op Rich Teas?

They reply!

Dear Mr Duck,

We're sorry to hear about your recent biscuit-related woe at the hands of a packet of shoddy Co-op Rich Teas.

Please accept our apologies, our pledge that all biscuits will be individually stress tested as per EU regulations, and some vouchers.

Your pals,

The Co-op.

I heart you The Co-op. I really heart you.

I am not mad book reviews

On asking why you - YES, YOU - haven't bought my excellent book

The reviews for my EXCELLENT book are in from some of the world's leading special publications, and by-and-large, they're pretty positive. See what you think, and then BUY MY EXCELLENT BOOK:

- "Couldn't put this book down" - Superglue Enthusiast

- "Shat myself laughing" - Dysentery Victims Association Newsletter

- "This book saved my life" - People Who Make Armour Out of Books Weekly

- "We quite like I Am Not Mad. Just the right thickness" - Wonky Table Owner

- "The ideal toilet companion" - Toilet & Crapping Magazine

- "LOL" - Pyongyang's Rodung Sinmun (Official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Workers' Party of Korea)

Of course, I'm not a complete Lord Sugar, only posting the reviews that praise me to they skies. There are people out there who would have me as an enemy, and their views (utterly crap and WRONG as they are) should be equally valid : These negative reviews are …err… like water off a duck's back:

- "Do not buy this book" - Anatadaephobe News

- "We are sickened - SICKENED - by the clear prejudice in this so-called book" - Quarterly Journal of the British Wasp Owner's Association

- "FINISH HIM" - Which Fatwa? Monthly

You too could be the owner of this magnificent heirloom piece. "The ideal gift for a rich, elderly relative with a dodgy heart" - Insurance Fraudster Today

On mime

On mime

Accosted by a mime whilst entertaining the lady wife in a restaurant, our all-too-valid criticism of the pasty-faced nuisance (To whit: "Learn the words, you pasty-faced nuisance") fell on deaf ears in the face the gale in which he was struggling.

So, we took the only course of action available to us - that being to trap him in an invisible box before clubbing him senseless with invisible baseball bats. A gaggle of invisible Candian seal-clubbers were fortunately on hand to finish the job.

And not before time, either. He retreated to the next table, where he started juggling with an invisible kitten and two invisible chainsaws. The bastard.

Dear The International Criminal Court,

Mime artists. Nail them as well.

Your pal, etc

In which INTERNATIONAL JUSTICE crushes a few skulls

In which INTERNATIONAL JUSTICE crushes a few skulls

The red light flashed on my red Bat-Phone and I sprung into action. Someone, somewhere needed my help. Someone, somewhere needed the benefit of my special powers. That's right. Someone's getting a letter.

Dear The International Criminal Court

Congratulations on yourr recent high-level arrests of some of the world's greatest bastards! Your capture of the gits behind those Halifax TV adverts leads me to believe that you're doing a fine job and I'd be willing to help out in any way, for eg: holding their arms while someone puts the boot in.

However, there is one area in which I fear you lack credibility, that being in the protection of the general population from the hideous crime that is in-store muzak, especially at this culturally-sensitive time of year.

Now, I like a good tune as much as the next man, but I shall never forget the sight of a very dear friend of mine, left in tears and rocking back and forth like Arthur Fowler out of EastEnders after he'd been caught stealing the Christmas Club money to pay for Michelle's wedding, simply because he had walked into Superdrug and found herself subjected to a dreadful plinky-plonk cover version of a much-loved song by The Cure.

And with Christmas being less than a month away, we've already had several weeks of Chrstmas Carols in our retail outlets, from jolly choral vintage awfulness to happy hardcore versions of Silent Night. Customers and shop staff alike are being pummelled and mentally tortured by these crimes against everything our society stands for. THIS MUST BE STOPPED.

This is where you chaps come in. Hunt down the curs behind this stream of filth and inanity like the dogs they are, and subject them to a little bit of a musical re-education. For eg, the sound their skulls make when subjected to the attention of a large group of Canadian seal clubbers. We know you're a little bit busy with some of the most awful people who ever walked the Earth, so this approach will negate the need for a costly trial and save you a lot of paperwork into the bargain.

Do let us know if we can go ahead with our excellent plan which can only be of benefit to our great civilisation (unless you are involved in the production and distribution of in-store muzak). Seal-clubbing season's just around the corner, and Jacques and the lads are getting a bit twitchy.

Be lucky.

Your pal

Albert O'Balsam

Weekend video II

Weekend video II

Jospeh Sepp Bellend Blatter Faceplant



Still pissed off about the World Cup vote? Here's the president of FIFA falling flat on his face. It's the video that keeps on giving, just like your mum's chlamydia.

Weekend Video

Weekend Video

Police Squad: End Credits



A tribute to poor, dead Leslie Nielsen, surely the king of deadpan. But don't call him Shirley.

Public Service Announcement

Public Service Announcement

Think once.

Think twice.

Think: Don't drink three cans of Red Bull half an hour before an important departmental meeting.

This action will prevent:

- Manic, wide-eyed staring

- Suggesting a game of British Bulldog to see who gets to take the minutes

- Replying to questions with the words "WhatWhatWhatWhatWHATWHAT?"

- Dancing the "Dead Ant" on the Boardroom table before lapsing into unconsciousness

- The disapproving glances of your peers who are so cross that they nearly said something.

Seriously. Don't do it.

On international piracy

On international piracy

It touched my heart to hear the the British couple taken hostage by Somali pirates have been freed following a huge ransom deal with the knaves that held them for over a year in the Horn of Africa.

Now that the Chandlers are free, they're in a bit of a mess. After all they had their entire worldly goods with them when they were taken in the Indian Ocean off the Seychelles. To whit: One modest yacht and everything on it.

While it is true to say - thanks to the assistance offered by world's orangest man Max Clifford - the couple are not exactly on their uppers, it would be nice if we could all pull together to help them rebuild their lives back in the damp and cold United Kingdom.

I rarely comment on the current news agenda on these pages, but there are times you've just got to stand up and be counted. To this end, I'm prepared to offer them a free pass to Weymouth's second best tourist attraction in the hope that they are able to learn to love holidays away from the gut-wrenching danger of the high seas.

So: We hope they enjoy their free round at the Weymouth Pirate Crazy Golf Course (7th hole: A year in a red hot cargo container) and they can look back on the last year and laugh and laugh.

Too soon?

CHRISTMAS ROUND ROBIN LETTER 2010

It's THAT time of year again, when the smug bastards of the world switch their computers to Comic Sans (the official typeface of the Third Reich) and tell people they haven't met in twenty years how brilliant their lives are. Yep, the Round Robin letter, coming to a lavish charity Christmas card near you.

And there's only one way to fight back: A complete pack of lies:

Dear INSERT NAME HERE

Phew! What an out-of-this-world year it's been for the Duck family!! We mean that quite literally after those lovely, lovely people at NASA paid us a small fortune to remake the science fiction movie 2010, this time as a documentary. And what a roller-coaster trip that was - all the way to to the far reaches of the Solar System and back - although it meant having to cancel our regular trip to the Maldives! Jupiter's nice, and we've bought a villa, but we wouldn’t want to live there!!!

You might have seen me on the television earlier this year, setting up the winning goal for Spain in this year's World Cup final. Yes, we all know I'm not Spanish (I'm now well into my second year as King of Tonga!!), but I got the nod thanks to FIFA's new 'holiday' rules. It turns out that my holiday kickabout in Mallorca's All-Kings Football Tournament last year ago was enough to tip the scales. I say "kickabout", but King Juan Carlos is the worst goalkeeper I've ever seen!!! Even worse than ex-West Ham footballer Carl Gustav XVI of Sweden!!!!

Once again Mrs Duck has been at the sharp end of global diplomacy. Her much-publicised trip to Pyongyang where she administered a cock-punch to leader Kim Jong-Il has gone a long way to reducing tensions in the Korean Peninsula, but she regrets the lack of cameras when she gave heir apparent Kim Jong-Un "the mother of all wedgies", praised by visiting UN Officials as "the laugh-out-loud moment of the decade". Once again she turned down the Nobel Peace prize - the shelf in the downstairs toilet's got six as it is!!!

Meanwhile, the lad Adam is back from his secret mission to Waziristan after being picked up by the SAS who have been keeping an eye on his Call of Duty prowess for some time. He's not allowed to talk about what he got up to in Pakistan's remote mountain region, except to say "Osama's going to be singing soprano in the Al-Qaeda choir from now on." Our HERO!!!

And what to say about our wonderful daughter? As you might have heard by now, she was the brains behind the year's most fantastic hoax - constructing a robot out of spare body parts and a few bits and pieces that fell through the space/time portal in our garden that got within a couple of weeks of reaching the final of The X Factor. If you've got any ideas about what to do with our spare Wagnerbot, don't tell us - we don't care what you think!!!

No Christmas letter would be complete without mention of our wonderful little dog Lucy Minogue. Puppy's hung up her lead after winning Cruft's three years in a row, and is now working hard for charitable causes. Despite hobnobbing with the likes of the Pope, Bono and Rick Astley, she's not lost touch with the common people - she savaged a tramp to death only last week!!!

We would - at this point - wish you all a very happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year. But - to be perfectly honest, we wouldn't care a fig if you won Britain's Got Talent juggling your own shit while Ann Widdecombe plays a solo on her bongos.

With love!

The Duck Family (Scary)

Cut, paste, change the details, print. Go on. You know you want to.