Jeremy Kyle in the dock
In sentencing a bloke who head-butted another during the Jeremy Kyle 'show' (one of those confrontational talk shows...well, how to describe? Talk show? Issues show? Loads of people screaming at one another show?) the Judge basically told JK and and everyone associated with the programme that they should be bloody well ashamed of themselves.
Much has been written, some of it by people who have actually watched the television programme, about JK. But while we’re at it…I had the grave misfortune of seeing a few seconds of this programme the other day, as I idly flicked up and down the channels looking for a re-run of ‘friends’ (never takes long). I unexpectedly came across what appeared to be a shaved baboon shoved into a nylon track suit talking about his ‘relationship’. The caption at the bottom read ‘I slam my dick in the fridges left outside my neighbours trailers - and society calls me a prevert’ or something like that.
Certainly, JK and everyone associated with that show deserves to have buckets of shit thrown at them. Buckets of shit that has been set on fire. Buckets of leper shit. Flaming leprous shit - now THAT I’d tune in to see.
JK is hells ringmaster, ordering the acts that closely resemble gargoyles (except that gargoyles serve a purpose) and whipping the audience into a frenzy through the careful use of drugs in the air con.
Wonder what he’d be if he wasn’t in teevee? Bitter, obviously. I think he’d be one of those temporary landlords that move from failing pub to failing pub, one step ahead of the boarded-up windows, an assassin of fun and good humour who is all too aware that his nickname has been ‘c**t’ since nursery school and who every night cries bitter tears of shame at his own sad existence and dependency on gnome porn.
Much has been written, some of it by people who have actually watched the television programme, about JK. But while we’re at it…I had the grave misfortune of seeing a few seconds of this programme the other day, as I idly flicked up and down the channels looking for a re-run of ‘friends’ (never takes long). I unexpectedly came across what appeared to be a shaved baboon shoved into a nylon track suit talking about his ‘relationship’. The caption at the bottom read ‘I slam my dick in the fridges left outside my neighbours trailers - and society calls me a prevert’ or something like that.
Certainly, JK and everyone associated with that show deserves to have buckets of shit thrown at them. Buckets of shit that has been set on fire. Buckets of leper shit. Flaming leprous shit - now THAT I’d tune in to see.
JK is hells ringmaster, ordering the acts that closely resemble gargoyles (except that gargoyles serve a purpose) and whipping the audience into a frenzy through the careful use of drugs in the air con.
Wonder what he’d be if he wasn’t in teevee? Bitter, obviously. I think he’d be one of those temporary landlords that move from failing pub to failing pub, one step ahead of the boarded-up windows, an assassin of fun and good humour who is all too aware that his nickname has been ‘c**t’ since nursery school and who every night cries bitter tears of shame at his own sad existence and dependency on gnome porn.
Labels: Courts, Jeremy Kyle, Judges, Media, Reality television, Television
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