My thoughts on the twins

Gordon Brown, who apparently can't be bothered to get in touch with the families of British soldiers killed in action but was able to express concern to Simon Cowell for Susan Boyle's welfare, has weighed into another crucial topic that is dominating the media.

Apparently he thinks the twins 'aren't very good'.

The beloved leader, once again, is wrong. The twins are great and my favourite is Christina Alessi on account of Caroline's slightly wonky mouth. End of.

Wear your Poppy with pride this weekend.

Does Sir Roger Moore dye his hair?

Yes. But I don't care.

Sir Roger Moore can pretty much do anything as far as I'm concerned. He's doing some chonky ads for the Post Office where the rheumy-eyed old actor hams it up while women pretend to swoon at his presence. And they're brilliant.

And now he's in a campaign for PETA - an organisation with which I have historically had mixed feelings - to highlight the cruelty involved in the production of foie gras.

Good old Sir Roger. Much like Bono, I'd pretty much have to agree with whatever he says. See this blog isn't just about hate?

Incidentally, his excellent autobiography - My Word Is My Bond - makes an ideal stocking-filler.

The Emperor wants to conquer outer space, Yoda wants to explore inner space and Danny Dyer just wants to be in the papers

Danny Dyer, Britain's second hardest man, is at it again.

Last month he accused Verne Troyer of hitting on his wife at the Pride of Britain Awards (presumably Dyer was there for his seminal Most Dangerous Men series). He stopped short, however, of giving the Mini Me actor a 'slap' as he is a 'midget', he told Zoo magazine in a charming interview.

Troyer denied the absurd accusations from the publicity-desperate idiot and elegantly replied that ' I wouldn't know who you [Dyer] were if you were standing in front of me' and that 'don't use my name to get your name in the press'.

Now Dyer has said that he has had to cut short his promotional tour for his DVD release, which I'm not going to give the oxygen of publicity by naming, because of an alleged robbery at his Essex home. Two cars were stolen but were subsequently found abandoned and undamaged not far away....hmmmm.

Anyway, in an interview in The Sun he says the robbery was 'the lowest point in his life'. If my suspicions are correct then I expect it probably is.

Stephen Fry and Twitter deserve each other

Stephen Fry has memorably, and accurately, been described as 'a stupid person's idea of what an intelligent person is like' and there are over 920,000 stupid people hanging onto everyone of his tedious but trademark 'fruity' tweets on Twitter.

But then someone upset him by describing his adventures with his European man-bag as 'boring'; he subsequently made accusations of cyber-bullying and threatened to stop using Twitter altogether.

Sadly some of the stupid people who think that Fry is some sort of intellectual colossus sent gushy messages of support to Fry in that absurd and irritating prose that he has made his own and he's decided he's going to continue to update them on his whereabouts and musings after all.

And that was the news that seems to have dominated a large part of the weekend press.

In my opinion Stephen Fry is not as clever as he likes to think - he's not a bad actor - but he's certainly no genius, and other than the obvious is as different to his hero Oscar Wilde as is possible to be. I find all his affectations to be just that.

While I've enjoyed some of the comedy roles he has played (mostly from the 80s), his reinvention as one of the UK's great wits is something I find unconvincing. His moral outrage at the furore over MPs' expenses when he described journalists as 'disgusting and venal' also lacked any clout from a man who has served time for credit card fraud.

Because of this I hope that one of his followers sends him a message that tells him more than that he is just 'boring'. And then the 920,000 stupid people will have to find someone else who pretends to be intelligent to follow. There are plenty of them on Twitter so shouldn't be too difficult.

I want to be a scriptwriter for The Bill

For the first time in probably twenty years I watched The Bill on ITV last night. I'd actually pretty much forgotten that is existed but a story in yesterday's Mirror that said that its scriptwriters were looking to hire Caroline Quentin in a bid to boost flagging ratings reminded me of its existence.

It's now one-hour long, has a new more dramatic credits and is obviously quite expensive to produce. It's also not very good.

Once a home for graduates of EastEnders there was a woman in it who used to be in Hollyoaks. June Ackland's gone as has Reg Hollis and DC Carver and Burnside and the only face I remembered was PC Stamp who, judging by the fact that he hasn't been promoted, picked the wrong career.

The acting of Graham Cole who plays Stamp acting was wooden, perhaps reflecting that the show was originally going to be called Wooden Tops, and in a particularly painful scene he delivered a long and tortuous analogy of how the chair that he was trying to fix was similar to the problems that needed fixing on an estate that had been neglected by the police. It was so bad it was funny.

I thought that ITV had revamped The Bill to make it edgier and grittier. It looked like something from a school play. Anyway, as a fan of unintentionally really bad telly I'm hooked. Enjoy the weekend.

This looks SH1T

Just five months after Jacko's death, footage of him rehearsing for his tour has been cobbled together to create a film - This Is It - that is now on general release.

Elizabeth Taylor tweeted the message that the spliced footage of a sick, possibly mentally-ill, man going through the motions of a tour that he clearly didn't want to do and arguably contributed to his overdosing on painkillers was 'The most brilliant piece of filmmaking I have ever seen'.

Really? Is it better than Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, in which she stars alongside Marlon Brando? I'm pretty sure that it's not going to be as good as Son of Rambow, which makes me cry lie a little girl every time I see it.

The film's director describes the footage as 'the last sacred document of our leader and friend' while some of his brothers - Marlon, Tito, Randy and possibly Ken - attended the premiere in Los Angeles.

And so it is that history is being rewritten and a cult of Michael Jackson merchandising machine moves into action. It's all rather tasteless and venal and voyeuristic and I can't wait to see it.

Happy birthday John Cleese. And Viz

Cleese is 70 today and Viz is, astonishingly, 30. The juvenile magazine has been a part of my life for 20 of those years although I stopped buying it some years ago - in fact probably about the same time they sold out to John Brown and admitted that it wasn't 'as funny as it used to be'.

But the thing is, it still is - it's kept me entertained through my Sixth Form (where it was required reading and I was too stupid to realise it was lampooning people like me), University and many years of work.

But among my legion high-profile media achievments - column at the student newspaper, appearance on Radio Essex lunchtime show, having a text read out on Adam & Joe Show, this amazing blog - I've never managed to get a submission included in Roger's Profanisaurus.

For this reason I'm going to resolve myself to buying it until I do.

Cleese's comedy is equally enduring - I even like Clockwise - and traces back to the days when it was OK to abuse Andrew Sachs. Anyway, the point of this post is to wish a happy birthday to both.

Is it too early to start wearing a Poppy?

This is the big issue of the day.

I was repelled to see Nick Griffin wearing one, in complete ignorance of the hundreds of thousands of Commonwealth soldiers who died - and continue to die - for Britain, last week.

I also noticed Gordon Brown was wearing one in PMQs last week while Dave was not; whether they will claim for these on expenses is a different matter but it looked like a bit of political one-upmanship.

On telly, too, Sky reporters are wearing them while those on the BBC are not yet. The repugnant Jon Snow on Channel 4 News memorably refuses to wear one.

So is it too early to wear one? Incidentally I've got mine on and think that people who don't wear them at all should be punched in the head.

Tonight will show why TV matters

Television has long been under attack. Digital media, societal change and audience fragmentation mean that those occasions when the whole nation gathers around their set have become increasingly rare. But when they do happen it's a useful reminder of how important TV is as social glue.

And one of those moments will happen tonight.

I refer of course to Countrywise on ITV1 where, according to the listings, Paul Heiney (remember him from the early 80s?) will 'visit a farm and a jam factory'. Sounds like fascinating stuff and it's on just after Five's always excellent and entertaining Live From Studio Five and before Paris Hilton's Best American Friend Forever on ITV2.

Politicians may come and go and politcs may be transitory but television will never die.

Sky News should show attempts to move the 70-stone fat man live on telly

Rolling news services have changed television viewing for ever for news junkies like me. Rather than having to wait to get an evening fix delivered by an authoritative gentlemen speaking to a grateful nation, live news feeds are available all day long and we have Sky News to thank for pioneering this.

While they sometimes end up making news out of the trivial (Gately's funeral dare I say it....), there are occasions when the television footage they show is unmissable.

The NHS's decision to move the heaviest man in Britain, who eats three Chinese meals a night and claims incapacity benefit, from his home in Ipswich to a specialist unit where they'll attempt to cut through the blubber and reduce the size of his stomach is one such TV moment to savour.

Previous efforts, when he was a mere slip of a thing at 56 stone, involved a forklift truck and the removal of walls to prise the former postal worker out. On this occasion the use of a heavylift Chinook helicopter was considered but has now been ruled out in favour of a five ton ambulance. Quite how they get him into the ambulance is a different question.

With elements of ITV's You Bet, it's got the makings of a great live TV event and I'm sure that Change4Life would find sponsoring it would generate a more useful return on investment than sponsoring The Simpsons.

I can't wait to see the BNP on Question Time

Former senior heads of the armed forces, including Generals Sir Mike Jackson and Sir Richard Dannatt, have quite rightly criticised the BNP and other extreme right-wing organisation for appropriating the use of military symbols to stir up racial hatred.

Jackson tells The Times: 'How dare they use the image of the Army, in particular, to promote their policies. These people are beyond the pale.' Quite right. And as has been pointed out, people from ethnic minority groups and Commonwealth troops have fought as part of the British Army for centuries, while Polish exiles flew with particulat distinction during the Battle of Britain (a slogan that the BNP has also despicably hijacked for itself).

Jackson has put up a far better argument as to why the BNP should be allowed to appear on BBC's Question Time on Thursday than Peter Hain who has claimed that the appearance of its leader Nick Griffin would be unlawful and has sought an injunction against it.

Unfortunately the BNP is a legitimate political party and is attracting growing support - the only way to defeat them is with intelligent argument and not with bans imposed by a political elite whose inherent unpopularity could lead to them gaining more sympathy.

Gordon Brown plays the biscuit game

I'm so bored of people talking about the potency of social media sites that I've decided to go on a journey in a helium balloon - I've already tipped off the Berkhamsted and Tring Gazette.

I'd never really considered or cared what sort of biscuit Gordon Brown preferred but the great democratising tool that is social media - in this case parents' website Mumsnet - has forced the PM to stop avoiding this key issue and finally come clean. An excited nation learnt that he prefers chocolate biscuits.

Perhaps we'll find out at some point what his exit strategy is for Afghanistan is or why he sold our gold reserves off in 1997 when if he'd waited until now he might have got a better price from Cash4Gold.

Twitter is also claiming victory over some things that Jan Moir wrote about the sainted Stephen Gately in last week's Daily Mail. I didn't read her column but I expect it was absolutely vile and it is she, and not Leona Lewis, who is deserving of a punch to the head.

The only vaguely amusing thing is that the Mail has to some extent been hoist by its own petard - having led a campaign against Jonathan Ross, it was only a matter of time before a special interest group did the same thing to it.

No Matter What They Tell Me...

Unfortunately Sky News is devoting its schedule tomorrow to live coverage of the funeral of Stephen Gately in Dublin.

In fact the broadcaster has devoted a surprisingly large amount of airtime to cover the premature death of the Boyzone singer. There was even a lengthy interview with a weepy Louis Walsh last night.

While the death of anyone, let alone a 33-year-old, is undoubtedly a tragedy, the circumstances surrounding Gately's death are particularly peculiar even though the coroner has said that he died of natural causes. The fact that so many people have been ushered out to say what a 'lovely', 'kind', 'beautiful' person he was can only add to the mystery.

Why was he sleeping on all fours on the sofa in the 'praying position'? What exactly was going on with his husband and the other man that they met in a club? Putting up shelves?

It's all rather unbelievable and while the PR strategy to the media seems to be about weepy pop singers and misty eyed Irish romanticism, which have willingly bought it and are perpetuating it, the whole thing is all rather strange and distasteful. Wall-to-wall TV coverage of the funeral will not make me believe anything any different.

Fame. I'm going to live forever

Celebrity is everything and my attempts to reach the ultimate goal of making an appearance in the celebrity-tat pages of some rubbish freesheet continue apace.

Having already been interviewed on BBC Radio Essex ranting about the Blessed Jade; deemed responsible enough to be allowed a column in the student newspaper sixteen years ago and having an email read out on Retro Text the Nation on the Adam & Joe Show, the fame continues to pile on.

Today marks the end of Antony Gormley's Fourth Plinth art project in London's Trafalgar Square. The project saw a different person stand on the plinth as a 'living statue' every hour for 100 days. It was screened by Sky's Sky Arts channel and one of the artists who took part kindly included this message for me:

It was broadcast at 6am one Sunday morning a few weeks ago so apologies if you've seen it before. I'll let you know what happens inside Neil Sean's sinister Green Room.

Only Sir Roger Moore is allowed to bang on about being an ambassador for Unicef

Wooden Pirates of the Caribbean actor Orlando Bloom has been made a goodwill ambassador for children's charity Unicef. A worthwhile cause, of cause, but the best thing about Unicef is that Sir Roger Moore insists on talking about it at every opportunity when what everyone is really interested is Bond (and possibly The Saint - rarely Ivanhoe).

In his excellent autobiography, Moore - who like many fine gentlemen is an Old Challoner - manages to fill an entire chapter on his involvement with the charity. I have to admit, that while I admire his involvement, it wasn't really why I bought the book. Nonetheless I read bits of it out of duty and an everlasting respect and in honour of Sir Roge.

I'm unlikely to ever buy Bloom's autobiography, should he chose to write one. So he should feel free to fill the whole book with his involvement in it.

Incidentally, I've always though those Post Office ads were absolute crap. But not now they've got Sir Roger in them - they must count among his best work.