They've just developed - they being The Tea Research Association in India - a biscuit that has the taste of a cup of tea with a biscuit dunked in it. What a cracking idea. It'll save me getting my butler to do it. All that effort of having to say "Perkins, just dunk my Rich Tea for me will you... NOT TOO SOGGY! That's it." At last I can be the true couch potato. Of course potatoes are now very easy to do. For a quick tasty mashed potato, you just pop down to your local supermarket, buy their ready made, heat and serve. What could be simpler. It was such a complicated thing, peeling, boiling then mashing.
What I really like is a good Yorkshire pud. Here's a simple recipe for the best Yorkshire pud money can buy. Pop your coat on and grab your car keys. When you've done that, get into your off-road Mercedes 4x4 - which you use for shopping and coffee mornings and taking the kids to the door of their school - and start it (allow to idle for a few seconds, tune radio, dial number on mobile phone for needless conversation with Tracy at her nail boutique). Then drive to your local supermarket - ignoring other drivers and nearly causing half a dozen accidents because you can't yet judge the size of your vehicle.

When you reach the supermarket, take care to park in the disabled bay even though you're not disabled. This will save you time and annoy a satisfying number of people. Stride purposefully into the supermarket brushing heavily past some old-aged pensioner so that they nearly fall over. Do a contrived flick of your long Nicky Clarke hair and pretend you didn't notice. Grab a basket from one of the checkout lines - as the supermarket will not have got around to piling them at the door yet. Go to the frozen section and look for the frozen Yorkshire puddings. If there's only one bag left make sure you grab it first before that overburdened woman with a full trolley carrying a baby and with two other children screaming at the tops of their lungs. Excellent. Head for the check out.
When in the queue, make a point of standing very close to the person in front so that they feel intimidated and when they have filled the coveyor with their shopping, make a point of trying to get your bag of Yorkshires on to the conveyor even though there isn't room to stand a penny sideways. Try to be as impatient as possible. Always at this point, look over the shoulder of the person in front of you at their progress. Try to glare. It wont make things go any faster but you'll think it will and it'll annoy the heck out of them! Finally, don't start looking for your money until you really have to. This makes things go nice and slowly and adds to the growing tension. Once you have paid for your item, having been as rude and dismissive as possible to the lowly check out assistant (who doesn't have a 4x4 like you and lives in a council flat with a cat and an overweight husband who works for a DIY store) return to your car.

By now there might be an attendant in a peaked cap standing there who will take you to task about your parking. This is okay. Just say you had no idea and say, "Look I'm late, I have Simon Cowell coming for supper, must fly..." Get into your car even though the attendant might still be talking at you and drive away.

If there are two lanes exiting the car park, one to go left and one to go right, position yourself in the middle until you have decided which way you plan to leave or do it even if you have decided, it'll annoy the shit out of everyone else. When you arrive back at your Barratt executive home set near a fashionable Cheshire village, open bag and place puddings on tray in hot oven, by which time your husband - home from his day of share dealing and trading of pork bellys will be too bored with wating for his supper and take you out to Marios where dinner will cost a paltry sum, say enough to put the kids through college - and voila! Dinner is served.

HACKED OFF
A leading UK financial lawyer suffering with a progressive muscle wasting disease hacked his wife to death when she told him she couldn't live with a cripple. The sweetheart. She could live with his wealth it appears but then of course, she'd get half of that in a divorce settlement. What can one say?


LAP IT UP!

The press lap up anything to do with Diana Princess of Wales, so they are bound to crank up the conspiracy theory now that the laptop of Lord Stevens who is heading the current enquiry into her death, has been stolen. Still it does beg the question, what's the 'in' colour this year.


WOMEN - DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT ONE
The lastest schlock in the glossy designer mags is that women are the new men. What clot came up with that one I wonder. So apples are the new grapes, cheese is the new butter, wool is the new silk perhaps and squares are the new circles. One thing is clear, crap is still crap!


NOT SO BELLA STELLA

Stella McCartney's attack on a London pub over the serving of Camel on their lunchtime menu, in which she said that Laurence of Arabia would be turning in his grave at the idea is a bit off the mark. He did in fact eat Camel for breakfast with Howeitat tribesmen, so there.
How about one for the 'Long and Winding Road?' Stella.


KARL LAGER TOP

Karl Lagerfeld, the 72 year old dress maker, says in a magazine article that he thinks Princess Diana was 'stupid' and that Camilla is the life and soul of the party and that if you had to make the choice to live with one or the other she'd be the one. Well its certain there are differences between the two women. For one, Diana actually had a nervous system and could feel. For example, she could feel the presence of Camilla through her entire marriage. Camilla has the emotions of a house brick and doesn't appear to feel anything - except Charles' cod piece. It didn't matter to her if she shagged her husband or Charles or shafted Diana. Diana was attractive, beautiful even. Camilla could model for Horse Dentist Monthly. Of course if Karl had to choose between one or the other he says he would choose Camilla. Old Queens stick together I guess.

The Rolling Stones were the big half time act at Super Bowl XL in Detroit this year. Mick Jagger, wearing his customary frock, took the runway high on a cocktail of cod liver oil pills and tonic wine. Crowds thrilled as the ageing rocker manoevered his zimmer frame along the catwalk stage, helped by a nurse in a white uniform.
Meanwhile Keith Richards managed not to entangle himself in his oxygen lead and despite advanced emphysema made a good showing, hammering out the lead notes to 'Jumping Jack Flash', which was more of a Crawling Jack Fizzle.

Ronnie Wood looked like he'd put on weight, at least an ounce, possibly two though it didn't stop him getting lodged in a knot hole on the stage.
As for Charlie Watts, well it's true he's operating at a lower wattage these days but he still managed to bang out some rhythms and was continent at all times.

Of course, the organisers, ABC, were understandably nervous having the Stones there and were on their guard with a 5 second delay button for the language used in their lyrics. They didn't want another incident like the one where Janet Jackson's boob accidentally fell out of her blouse - with a little help from Justin Timberlake - and brought America to a grinding halt as no one had ever seen a breast before particularly in the deep south,... where they marry their sisters. So obviously it made sense to sensor the lyrics of Rough Justice "...One time you were my baby chicken, Now you've grown into a fox: And once upon a time I was your little rooster, Am I just one of your cocks..."(yuh know, like the hen) and Start Me Up "You, you, you make a grown man cry You, you make a dead man come..."
Clearly there are massive problems over the ambiguities of the English language and you could get into real trouble there if you went into a cafe and asked for a Cunt Sandwich with pubic hair and semen sauce. It'd take them forever to decide whether or not there was such a dish, particularly if the request was delievered with a flawless British accent.

Incredible but true. Some clown from Louisiana is trying to sue Apple for damaged hearing as the result of using his iPod. Good one Dufus. What, you didn't yet work out how to turn the volume down?! What are you, thick as a bag of hammers? Sounds like it, though I don't guess you hear that well in the first place.
Sounds like a get rich quick scheme. Any judge who would agree with you would have to be pretty dumb too. Sure an iPod could deafen you if used by a stupid dumb cretin with no ability to work out when the music was too loud.

But then you could deafen yourself by sticking you head under the hood of your car and revving the engine or putting your ear to a household drill whe it's hammering through dry wall. Of course you'd have to be pretty thick to do that but hey, we're having a little draw here and guessing that you're not the smartest nobel prize winner at the symposium.

It was announced this morning that Prince Charles couldn't attend a function today because it was too cold to use his helicopter. Yes, well you get that with helicopters. The army have had a problem with that for years, avoiding war on cold days or taking other measures for which they are highly trained etc. "Look chaps, there's a bit of a nip in the air today. Best not risk the old chopper... what? If we hang on there's a number 14 bus which will pass right by the insurgents. We can just pop off at the stop before, hail a cab and attack. Whaddyou think? After brekkers, yes?"

"Wot abaht takin' a tank sir.?"
"Mmmm, don't think so sergeant. It's a bit muddy out there and there are one or two pot holes... could pose a problem."

"I've got a conker sir, it's a sixty eighter."
"Bravo Smith. Let's hang on to that possibility. Jenkins, 'you still got that catapult of yours?"

"Yessir!"
"Excellent, that'll make those suicide chappies think twice. Right then, brekky poo then orf we jolly well go."


Meanwhile Charles wants to revive interest in mutton. Mutton is - effectively - old sheep or old lamb, lamb that has grown up a bit, y'know, been to school, passed through college, out of short pants and into a frock and getting pissed in bars at weekends, a little bit past it, know wot I mean nudge nudge. It's impossible at this point to avoid mentioning Camilla in the whole mutton, lamb thing. Yeah it's too obvious, mutton dressed as lamb blah blah. But you just have to do it. Let's face it, he's handed us a gift, old Charlie boy. I mean what a gift for the wags of Wapping. Not that I'm saying Camilla is mutton dressed as lamb though she does have the face of a well aged Marino - and the hair to go with it.

I mean when she laughs she's more the winner of the 3.30 at Fontwell. Maybe its just Charles expressing honest interests, wanting to be hung for a sheep as opposed to lamb. Sorry. Didn't his advisors point out these rather obvious routes to ridicule? Clearly not. Does it take an advisor to do that? It shouldn't. It just goes to show how naive Chas' still is. Or that he has no concept just what the rest of us will say given the straight feed. Or that he has no sense of humour or the ability to ad lib and quip except for.... "That Nicholas Witchell, I hate him...."