Sometimes the news isn’t the news. Sometimes it’s just a baby waving a bat around and some weather happening.


These stories about child sensations are always bullshit. How can anyone yet to master the art of using the big toilet be a sensation at anything?

For a start, he’s sitting on the table, so that’s a foul. And look, he’s basically just indiscriminately waving that bat back and forth like a nappy-wearing lackadaisical traffic conductor. Who’s picking up all those balls he’s walloping all over the shop? We imagine it’s his less-loved, attention-starved brother. He's probably scuttling around under the tables, back-flipping around like a ninja, deftly scooping up his brother’s discards and juggling them with aplomb – “Dad? Dad! Look Dad! Dad! Dad, look at me! Look at what I’m doing Dad! Love me, Dad…” “Not now, you. Jamie just did a burp and I’m sure I heard the opening notes of Beethoven’s Unfinished Symphony."


This has happened before, of course, making it increasingly difficult for news people to come up with anything interesting to say other than “roads won’t be as good as normal ‘coz they’ve got snow on them”. Instead, they let the public do the work for them by suggesting they send in their own pictures of earth-shatteringly banal stuff, including: snow on the ground, stuff covered in snow, people in the snow, animals in the snow, and just snow. The possibilities are endless, if by ‘endless’ you mean ‘extremely limited and painfully repetitive’.

Snow duck
"I'm just going about my ducky business like any other day. Don't be silly, this isn't news."


We won't know until July whether John Terry officially did a racism but, in the meantime, the FA have decided he's not fit to be England captain anymore. Innocent until proven guilty? Apparently not if everyone POSSIBLY saw it on YouTube, you're not.

Who shall we have instead, then? A player who bunked a drugs test and is playing like he's on them? A bloke who was charged with assault? Wayne Rooney?

If it's not Scott Parker or Joe Hart, we may as well give up now. Joe Hart edges it for this alone:


Unlike last year’s 12-hour loonathon which saw two strikers who can’t score traded for a cumulative figure of £85 million, this January transfer deadline day was distinctly lacking in money-spunking excitement.

The news coverage of transfer deadline day is a hilariously brilliant concept. Since they don’t really know what’s going on, they’re reduced to standing outside football stadiums speculating about who might or might not be involved in a forthcoming transfer. If you did this on any other day of the year, people would cross the road to avoid you. “Ooh, I’m just seeing a woman I’m going to call Mavis - because I don't know what her actual name is - going into Lidl. Unconfirmed reports suggest she is looking at a four-pack of Ski yoghurts which may be involved in some sort of swap deal with the Petits Filous currently in her basket.”

"Ma! Hey Ma! I'm on the tellybox Ma and it ain't Crimewatch or Jeremy Kyle! Ahugh!"

It’s bad enough for these ‘roving reporters’ even when players are changing hands, but this year they had to work themselves into a tither over really boring stuff.

“So and so just signed a one-month loan deal at a League One club you’d forgotten existed. Jimmy Goalboots just signed up for a two-month trial on LoveFilm. I'm here, alone, in the pitch black, outside Loftus Road. A bus just went past! Yes, I can confirm, it was a bus! It may have been a 38, possibly a 135. More on that later. Back to you, Geoff.”


The Office of Fair Trading is investigating "unfair" gym contracts. Apparently, if you sign up for a contract that says you've got to pay £30 a month for 24 months, the absolute bastards then expect you to give them £30 a month for the next 24 months. OUTRAGEOUS.

The Sun described these contracts as "financial straight-jackets," which is ironic because that's exactly what these people need.

Fay gym

“Oh God it’s SO unfair, I went into this building and sat down on a nice chair with a table in front of it. Then, all of a sudden, they started giving me loads of free food. It was just a basket of bread at first. Then some water. But then they really upped the ante. They started saying I could have whatever I wanted. Even gave me this kind-of-book thing with a list of loads of tasty-sounding stuff. ‘Can we get you anything else, Sir?’ they kept saying. Then, at the end – and you’ll never believe this – they came and gave me a piece of paper saying I had to pay them nearly eighty quid! I feel so duped. Hello? Is that Trading Standards?”