Charlie Brooker's Weekly Wipe (2013) s02e03 Episode Script
Episode 3
This programme contains strong language.
Hello.
I'm Charlie Brooker and you're watching Weekly Wipe, a programme all about things that are happening.
Things like this.
Heartbreaking and tragic scenes in Coronation Street as Hayley Cropper drinks the ultimate nightcap.
Already empassioned campaigners are calling for the right to die to be extended to Emmerdale.
Rubber-faced funnyman Vladimir Putin accused of homophobia as he says gays are welcome at the Winter Olympics as long as they "keep away from children".
To be fair, there is nothing worse than a predatory ski-dophile hanging around the nursery slopes.
Labour's Ed Miliband re-invents himself as a tough guy willing to take on the banks.
Having vowed to battle apparently insurmountable financial forces, his hard man message was only slightly undermined a few hours later when he made an unconvinving attempt to enjoy a beer.
That's the sort of thing that's been going on.
But we start with political scandal.
The political sex scandal has an illustrious history dating back to 1963's Profumo Affair.
Since then it's provided countless guffaws and lurid-but-hilarious headlines detailing the romps, bonks and trysts of people you'd rather not picture in any kind of bedroom scenario.
But the latest example isn't much fun, involving allegations about Lord Rennard, which he denies and refuses to apologise for, thus putting Nick Clegg in a compromising position.
Rennard has now been suspended and the whole thing's playing out in the media in a bizarre civil war.
The Lib Dems are investigating whether Lord Rennard's brought the party into disrepute.
Or whether it's actually got any repute left to diss.
It's more of an ugly mess than a farce, really.
For a proper old-fashioned political sex scandal you have to switch channels.
Or rather cross channels, to France.
Yes, France, a nation so romantic it's got a type of kissing named after it, almost expects its political figures to have mistresses.
It's practically a tradition.
De Gaulle was the town bike, Jacques Chirac was a filthy slut, and Francois Mitterand was famed for filling every woman he met with what the French call a penis.
And we call a penis.
Look, he's going for one now.
Get your filthy paws off her! That's our Queen! But now a contemporary slap-and-tickle scandal seemed to be brewing around President Hollande, who stands accused of cheating on the First Lady with a Second Lady, like a sort of French Lee Ryan.
The First Lady was in hospital, and the news was clinically clear about why.
The first lady is still in hospital with a broken heart.
Oh, God, that's awful, they can't treat a broken heart.
Because it isn't a medical condition.
These provocative magazine images had prompted the scandal.
Hollande apparently pictured outside the actress's apartment.
They didn't actually get a clear shot of his face, just his helmet.
Which is the sort of thing they can put on front pages in France.
They're no better than animals.
Actually looking at this, how do they know it's not just one of Daft Punk? The British news gleefully recounted how the French public had snapped up every copy of the accusing mag, leaving none for them.
Do you have any copies of Closer Magazine? Oh, in that case I'll just have a copy of Le Razzle.
And what's French for "hand cream"? Confusingly for British reporters, outside of the magazine itself, the French media claimed it wasn't too interested in the alleged affair.
If it is private, it's private.
I don't care what Francois Hollande is doing in his bedroom.
It soon became clear the people most interested in where the Parisian prez put his penis were the British, who found the French nonchalance incroyable.
Are you interested in the love life of Francois Hollande? Not at all.
I don't believe you.
Because they couldn't get footage of French citizens waving their fists and shouting "zut alors!", the British hacks had to pad out their reports avec le filler.
One perky Channel 4 News reporter painstakingly reconstructed the President's drive to the alleged love nest, stepping off the bike and walking straight up to the front door, but then foolishly stopped short of the interesting bit where he'd get to make love to a beautiful actress.
The problem for the president is that he looks even more ridiculous than I do.
Mm, I'd say it's about evens.
There were also some startling pre-watershed glimpses of suspiciously post-watershed cartoons, and stock news report filler item 6B, footage of a crappy knocked-up-in-five-minutes computer game wheeled out like it's a big deal.
It's not even a good French video game.
It's no Super Marie-Antoinette.
Back in the studio, the French insistence on respecting privacy was irritating the British media so much, they invited French journalists on to harangue them in the only language they understand - arrogance.
Why are the French press so deferential? Some UK anchors apparently spent so long speaking to the French, the gallic influence rubbed off on them and they started acting French themselves.
But a French president has an affair.
But Hollande couldn't hide forever, because he was scheduled to give a live press conference.
Rolling news wiped the schedule clean to watch the President squirm in the spotlight.
Anything could happen! He could break down and beg forgiveness! Or start BLEEP the actress live on stage! He is French.
Or, as he'd been scheduled to do all along, he might speak at length about French economic policy - the big tease.
Although of course in French even that's erotic.
We are talking about going faster, going further, accelerating and going in more depth.
But we have to ensure that this growth be vigorous.
Oooh.
In the end, the First Lady came out of hospital, the Second Lady threatened to sue the magazine, and the President carried on, just as unpopular as he'd been before.
And what had we, the British learned? Nothing.
Except that ultimately the French don't seem to care who the President's BLEEP, as long as he's not BLEEP the country.
Instead of being about a hobbit Ora Wizard, it is about a giant and a robot woman.
Bid if you put them together, she is sort of distant, they sort of balance out and make one person.
It was a bit weird, because it had George Galloway in it and Dennis Waterman and Stewart Lee.
But younger and less funny.
But they are all for them, not real them.
It is about crimes happening miles away, but they are still exciting, so you still sort of care.
And like Sherlock, it is got these clever words that come up so you know what is happening, like each time someone speaks, it explains what's going on.
Sometimes there were words telling you what they said even though you knew what they'd said, because they had words anyway.
I think maybe the way to do it is to watch it once with the words and then again for the pictures.
The man policeman is Danish, and the woman policeman is Swedish, but even though they speak different languages, they don't need some titles to talk to each other, because they are both foreign, so some titles to understand me, because to them, I'm foreign, which they are, too.
They are trying to catch these Beatrix Potter people who are killing people to make a trendy point about politics to impress the guardian.
As well as the robot one, it's got you tube unit and computers, and a bit wearer man is having sex with someone.
The thing is, it's not a nice foreign land like in the holiday programmes.
It's really cold, and there are murders, and you can tell from looking at it that there are hardly any colours allowed over there.
So everything is grey and muted and ominous.
It's probably less depressing being murdered in Scandinavia than anywhere else on earth, because even as you are dying, you would think, oh, well.
At least I can wear red trousers in heaven.
And they probably speak English like in proper places.
The first series of the Bridge was really good, so they made it over here as the Tunnel, and to make it a fair swap, the Danish we made take me out.
Weather! And a UKIP councillor causes outrage by claiming the recent biblical weather has been caused by God punishing the UK for allowing same-sex marriage.
Making him the only UKIP councillor to actively believe in man-made climate change.
The councillor apparently wrote to David Cameron to warn him, but Cameron ignored his letter, or maybe didn't understand it because he doesn't speak 12th century maniac.
In informative scenes, Sky immediately dispatched a reporter to the councillor's waterlogged hometown to badger the godless locals.
Are these floods a sign from God? I don't even believe in God myself.
Drown the heretic! Apparently the deluge is part of a sinister gay plot to fill Britain with water so everyone has to wear rubber all the time.
And the streets will fill with water, making cruising mandatory.
When the news came a-knocking in confrontational scenes, the man himself seemed oddly reluctant to speak to the media, possibly because he believes their heathen camera machines will steal his soul.
I'm not giving any more interviews.
Are your views and embarrassment to the party? UKIP king Nigel Farage suspended the councillor and announced an immediate clear- out of UKIP members with crazy outmoded views, a complex process that involves highlighting the membership list and then hitting delete.
Now, Scotland.
Should it stay or go? Or only see the rest of Britain at weekends? Scottish independence has got a lot of people thinking, none more so than our resident inquisitive human Limmy.
This is Limmy.
It's a big year for Scotland.
Do we want to be ruled by this pack of liars or that? A message will go out from England, Wales and Northern Ireland to everyone in Scotland.
We want you to stay! That's nice.
Is he serious? With that face? I don't know what he's got plans to make Britain great again.
Let's make Victoria Park great again.
Just a lick of paint, please.
Wait a minute, reverse psychology.
We want you to stay.
Does he really think we would do a thing he says? No.
He knows.
He wants us to go.
I don't know what he's got plans to make Britain great again, but I want in.
We want you to stay.
I know you're watching, and I know what you're thinking.
You are thinking of maybe doing this, or this, or this.
We want you to stay.
First answer counts! Do not paint this fence.
Under no circumstances are you to paint this fence.
Food now, and cookery shows are of course a TV staple, but there's so many of them they need a gimmick these days to succeed.
A gimmick like, um Spoons.
Yes, spoons, courtesy of Channel 4's upmarket kitchen contest the Taste, in which former celebrity courtroom star Nigella Lawson has to lick a spoon clean alongside rock'n'roll chef Anthony Bourdain and the world's Frenchest Frenchman Ludo Foffyfonn.
The idea is that the contestants have to win the judges over by creating a funsize helping of creative food.
They should've called it Masterspoon.
Some of the contestants create miniature masterpieces.
While others produce the most preposterous shit to grace a spoon since Uri Geller.
Having sweated and toiled to fill a small ceramic ladle, like your dad did in the Navy, the contestants then sit back nervously to see if the judges can swallow their food without choking, something Nigella should find far easier now Charles Saatchi's not around.
Incidentally, and apropros of nothing, I just thought of a great joke about a famous art collector framing his wife, which I can't repeat for legal reasons.
Anyway, spoons are all very well, but they're not a very adventurous gimmick.
What's really missing on TV is a food show incorporating far-right politics, as exhibited in the recent bizarre cookery video posted online by the BNP's Nick Griffin.
It's just like an episode of Masterrace.
I mean chef.
Essential cooking tool, wooden spoon.
It's weird watching him in his notably well-equipped kitchen, and refreshing to see he doesn't deny the existence of ovens.
Disappointingly he doesn't cook Chicken Supremacist, or Egg Fried Reich, or Swastikka Masala, but a simple stew, which he cooks, in one big melting pot.
Let's have a look at the contents of that pan there.
Just taking on a little bit of colour.
Obviously he likes his ingredients locally sourced, although he's going to be furious when he finds out those British white potatoes are descended from South American immigrants.
Still it's not just cookery tips, there's opinion, too.
So I don't let people tell me that you have to have huge numbers of immigrants to have good cooking.
OK, although to be fair, no-one's ever told anyone that.
We've got a Mexican restaurant near here.
The place isn't swamped with Mexicans.
You take the recipe, and that is all you need.
Ooh, you know, I do wish he wouldn't talk while he's chopping ingredients.
I mean look at the clunky way he wields the knife.
I keep worrying he might not hurt himself.
Then finally the meal is ready to eat.
To be fair, even if some of the diners look less than thrilled to be there, the end product looks good.
Maybe he should've been a chef.
Still, cookery's loss is bigotry's gain.
And if you don't like the dishes he serves up, send them back to where they came from.
Of course those who prefer their cookery a little less politically controversial and a lot more "cashe" can always ingest the swaggering and breezy, laid-back Sunday Brunch with prime geezer Tim Lovejoy.
It's about three hours long, but don't worry if you can't be fussed to sit through all of it, Mr Jake Yapp has condensed it down to 99 seconds, as he'll demonstrate now.
Start the clock.
Good morning and welcome to Sunday Brunch with me, Tim Lovejoy.
It is similar to the show I did on BBC Two.
But was about celebrities and cooking.
This is with guys with their low-rise jeans.
Look at me, I am leaning on the set.
A Scouse sidekick, what are you cooking up? I am doing French toast That is enough from you.
I am the new deadline.
I am so bloody laid-back.
Let's do the autocue.
Watch my eyes glaze over.
Our guests were in a pop group in 1997.
Anyway, let's interview you.
I did not bother to read the notes, I will just win it.
How did you ? What is the most ? I have completely lost control of the interviewed now.
Good job the sound man has remembered I am meant to be in charge let's say something my analytical mind could think up.
Music is really important.
Here is someone we have checked out on MySpace.
They are called Coldplay.
They are going places.
Let's watch Simon Cook.
I will stand awkwardly.
Then Simon will stand next to our guest chef and stand awkwardly.
We have got to the end of the programme, no one has worked out what my role is, time for some low key no eye contact, see you then.
Culture! And in unforgettable scenes, This Morning screens a bizarre live test in which Britain's foremost and indeed only rumpologist demonstrates how to analyse people's backsides.
When I was focusing on Kelly's bottom, it is the right cheek telling me all the past things, the left tells me the future things.
Which, as I suspected, makes the present a shithole.
To test her bum-reading skills they ran a sort of on-air reverse glory hole guessing game.
There are a creative.
Fun to be around.
You know, looking at this, you might think This Morning's just taking the piss, but it isn't.
Although some of its guests are.
How do you start your day? I am a feat guy.
Not these people, they kick off with a glass of their own BLEEP.
-- urine.
I could just think clearer.
Clear enough to think, I know, I'll drink my own piss? So it's socially unacceptable and it tastes horrible, but on the plus side, it's also frowned upon by doctors, specifically a telly doc who looks like Prince playing Doctor Who, doing his best to balance the piss-taking with medical fact.
It is not medically recommended, especially if you are unwell or on medication.
We would not recommend it.
Mmm, I guess it all boils down really to who you want to believe? The qualified medical professional who tells you not to drink piss, or the hairy bloke in the stripy jumper who does? Things were inevitably building towards the money shot in which the happy couple would go on the piss, necking a glass of home-brew Pee-no Grigio live on air, which probably enough to get viewers experimenting with swallowing their own vomit.
Arghh, look at that, you know what that is? That is Cameron's Britain.
Cameron's Britain everybody.
Tsss.
Inevitably, the informative item prompted some lively feedback, which tight-panted bulge-displayer Jeff Brazier did his best to reel off quickly before he had some kind of weird fit.
Zoe says, if that is what they want to do, then let them, people are too quick to judge.
Now.
Sticking with urine and adding some excrement, this week also saw the US TLC channel air stomach churning scenes in the gruesome My Strange Addiction.
Which showcased a woman with a penchant for sniffing and chewing used nappies.
I love it.
It tastes amazing.
I have one in the kitchen, when I am sleeping.
Oh, that's really put me off my piss.
To be fair, this celebratory urine drinking isn't the most upsetting fluid-intake scene I've witnessed on ITV recently.
That'd be Monday's harrowing Coronation Street in which Hayley Cropper drank the ultimate bedtime nightcap.
Come on everyone - Down in one! Down in one! Down in one! Still nice of her to give him a hand job on the way out.
Pop now, and crooning haircutted pebble Justin Bieber's been in trouble with his alleged egg-throwing hi-jinks providing startling fodder for noisy entertainment shows.
A felony investigation into accusations the superstar singer pelted his neighbour's home with eggs.
Frankly, I don't care what he does with eggs as long as he's not fertilising them.
But are pop stars out of control? US comedian and shambles Doug Stanhope thinks they're not out of control enough.
And he'll say so now.
I'm Doug Stanhope and that is why I drink.
You know what? Any time you complain about the kids today, you know you are walking on dangerous ground or just being a pathetic old lock.
This is the weakest generation in recorded history.
Jason Bieber made the news by pissing into a mop bucket.
There is footage of Justin Bieber relieving himself in a mop bucket.
That makes the news today? That is so indicative of what a shit generation this is.
That is the rock and roll lifestyle.
You are not Led Zeppelin chucking TVs out of hotel windows while the drama is dead in the pool.
Oh no, Justin Bieber peed into a bucket.
I know every generation complains about the new kids coming up after them, but in the past, it was always complaining that the new kids were too out of control and taking too many chances.
These kids today are smoking marijuana.
We will be the first generation that is the opposite of that, when we will still complain about the kids today but in the opposite fashion.
Look at these locking kids.
We had a good time.
These sissies drink Red Bull for some pep.
The closest they have ever come to a fist fight is on a message board.
Are you looking at my girlfriend? I am going to unfriend you from my Facebook registry.
I had better delete that BLEEP part.
Wildlife! And a series of depressing news reports describe how a Texan hunting society has auctioned a permit to shoot and kill a rare Namibian black rhino.
The rhino is a magnificent horny beast sadly destined to be unceremoniously mounted over a stranger's fireplace, just like your mum.
Corey Knowlton, the man who paid $350,000 for the permit, outlined his reasoning in a penetrating interview.
I'm a hunter.
I want to experience the black rhino.
I want to be involved with the black rhino.
Sorry, what did that permit allow you to do again? In emotional scenes Knowlton explained that shooting the black rhino is in fact the best way to protect the black rhino.
The fact of the matter is, we raised $350,000 from the black rhino.
It is absolutely going to conservation.
Yes, and with fewer rhinos to spend it on, that money'll go even further.
We are not just saying we are on a rhino hunt, have a beer, it is a scientific process.
Specifically it's an experiment to find out what happens when a rhino gets exposed to lead.
He says the hunt will be good for the heard by targeting an older male past reproduction.
But the news prompted a barrage of death threats, from people who wanted to kill him? Don't look at them as death threats, look at them as conservationists targeting an older aggressive male past reproduction.
Still, despite the outrage, the news made clear he's undaunted - and proud.
In a way, we won, conservation won and the black rhino won.
And it'll celebrate that win with a nice lie down and a rot.
Tainted nostalgia! And there are testing times for yet another fondly-remembered TV icon from yesteryear.
Yes, once upon a time millions enjoyed these loveably manipulative adverts in which chimps carried out road works or dressed as Clockwork Orange characters and lugged furniture around.
Do you know the piano is on my foot? You hum it, some, I'll play it.
We now know that when the cameras weren't rolling they behaved like animals.
Not that being taught to act like humans did them any favours - as a heartbreaking report on Daybreak painfully revealed.
The zookeepers said the chimps did enjoy walking and talking like us but afterwards they had real problems integrating them back into chimp society.
Just like Ross Kemp after EastEnders.
Fortunately, the chimps have now recovered enough to enjoy traditional primate pastimes, like doing nothing and putting shit in their mouths.
Oh.
Cameron's Britain.
I hope you're proud, David Cameron.
That is your Britain.
Of course now we're more enlightened than when these upsetting scenes were filmed.
Today we simply wouldn't force a basic creature to dress and behave like a human against its will, except maybe in those harrowing and tragic Ben Fogle Typhoo ads.
Oh, it shouldn't be allowed.
Of course, Charles Darwin taught us monkeys and mankind are very much alike.
Tomorrow it'll be 175 years since Darwin became a fellow of the Royal Society so to celebrate that, and hard-hitting science in general, Philomena Cunk is about to explore evolution before your very face, in this week's Moments of Wonder.
It is almost unbelievable that before Charles Darwin invented evolution in 1859, no one had ever evolved.
Without him, none of us would be here today, except in the form of fossils or Gibbons.
The story goes that here in this garden in Kent, Darwin saw an apple fall from the tree, and wondered if there was a monkey up there.
And if so, where that monkey might have come from.
Darwin was one of the most famous men of his age.
Like Paddy McGuinness is now except Darwin has a beard which Paddy McGuinness did not, unless they use CGI to paint it out, which they probably do not because it is expensive.
Even though it is obviously just boring today, the origin of species was the biggest sensation of its age, thanks to the twist ending, in which Darwin revealed everyone on the planet had been made out of monkey meat all along.
It caused a battle between science and the church which still rages today although apparently you do not see them fighting like this because it is a metaphorical battle.
Even today, many people still do not believe in evolution but maybe a science man can put them right.
Hello, science man, who are you and what are you an expert in or on? I am Mark Thomas and I am a professor of evolutionary genetics.
What did people do before evolution? There were not any people before evolution.
If we came from monkeys why are there still monkeys? Because some of those monkeys which lived a long time ago turned into other monkeys that we see today like chimp monkeys and so on.
Oh, right.
So the monkeys which did not turn into humans they must be gutted that they did not turn into humans.
Sometimes when I watch these past life hypnosis programmes on satellite channels, all the people on those, they are always ladies in waiting or gladiators, they are never monkeys.
Why is that? Probably because they do not actually remember their past lives.
It is probably not true.
But I find it easier to believe I was a lady in waiting than a monkey.
It is may be easier to believe your ancestors were ladies in waiting but I do not see the problem in believing both your ancestors were ladies in waiting a few hundred years ago and before that Monkey ladies in waiting.
Thanks.
Because evolution cannot be seen, it is hard to believe in like electricity or skeletons.
But one day, maybe we will have evolved eyes which can see evolution and that will prove it is real.
Next week, I will be finding out where clouds go at night.
Well that's about all we've got time for this week, until next time when hopefully you come back, go away.
Hello.
I'm Charlie Brooker and you're watching Weekly Wipe, a programme all about things that are happening.
Things like this.
Heartbreaking and tragic scenes in Coronation Street as Hayley Cropper drinks the ultimate nightcap.
Already empassioned campaigners are calling for the right to die to be extended to Emmerdale.
Rubber-faced funnyman Vladimir Putin accused of homophobia as he says gays are welcome at the Winter Olympics as long as they "keep away from children".
To be fair, there is nothing worse than a predatory ski-dophile hanging around the nursery slopes.
Labour's Ed Miliband re-invents himself as a tough guy willing to take on the banks.
Having vowed to battle apparently insurmountable financial forces, his hard man message was only slightly undermined a few hours later when he made an unconvinving attempt to enjoy a beer.
That's the sort of thing that's been going on.
But we start with political scandal.
The political sex scandal has an illustrious history dating back to 1963's Profumo Affair.
Since then it's provided countless guffaws and lurid-but-hilarious headlines detailing the romps, bonks and trysts of people you'd rather not picture in any kind of bedroom scenario.
But the latest example isn't much fun, involving allegations about Lord Rennard, which he denies and refuses to apologise for, thus putting Nick Clegg in a compromising position.
Rennard has now been suspended and the whole thing's playing out in the media in a bizarre civil war.
The Lib Dems are investigating whether Lord Rennard's brought the party into disrepute.
Or whether it's actually got any repute left to diss.
It's more of an ugly mess than a farce, really.
For a proper old-fashioned political sex scandal you have to switch channels.
Or rather cross channels, to France.
Yes, France, a nation so romantic it's got a type of kissing named after it, almost expects its political figures to have mistresses.
It's practically a tradition.
De Gaulle was the town bike, Jacques Chirac was a filthy slut, and Francois Mitterand was famed for filling every woman he met with what the French call a penis.
And we call a penis.
Look, he's going for one now.
Get your filthy paws off her! That's our Queen! But now a contemporary slap-and-tickle scandal seemed to be brewing around President Hollande, who stands accused of cheating on the First Lady with a Second Lady, like a sort of French Lee Ryan.
The First Lady was in hospital, and the news was clinically clear about why.
The first lady is still in hospital with a broken heart.
Oh, God, that's awful, they can't treat a broken heart.
Because it isn't a medical condition.
These provocative magazine images had prompted the scandal.
Hollande apparently pictured outside the actress's apartment.
They didn't actually get a clear shot of his face, just his helmet.
Which is the sort of thing they can put on front pages in France.
They're no better than animals.
Actually looking at this, how do they know it's not just one of Daft Punk? The British news gleefully recounted how the French public had snapped up every copy of the accusing mag, leaving none for them.
Do you have any copies of Closer Magazine? Oh, in that case I'll just have a copy of Le Razzle.
And what's French for "hand cream"? Confusingly for British reporters, outside of the magazine itself, the French media claimed it wasn't too interested in the alleged affair.
If it is private, it's private.
I don't care what Francois Hollande is doing in his bedroom.
It soon became clear the people most interested in where the Parisian prez put his penis were the British, who found the French nonchalance incroyable.
Are you interested in the love life of Francois Hollande? Not at all.
I don't believe you.
Because they couldn't get footage of French citizens waving their fists and shouting "zut alors!", the British hacks had to pad out their reports avec le filler.
One perky Channel 4 News reporter painstakingly reconstructed the President's drive to the alleged love nest, stepping off the bike and walking straight up to the front door, but then foolishly stopped short of the interesting bit where he'd get to make love to a beautiful actress.
The problem for the president is that he looks even more ridiculous than I do.
Mm, I'd say it's about evens.
There were also some startling pre-watershed glimpses of suspiciously post-watershed cartoons, and stock news report filler item 6B, footage of a crappy knocked-up-in-five-minutes computer game wheeled out like it's a big deal.
It's not even a good French video game.
It's no Super Marie-Antoinette.
Back in the studio, the French insistence on respecting privacy was irritating the British media so much, they invited French journalists on to harangue them in the only language they understand - arrogance.
Why are the French press so deferential? Some UK anchors apparently spent so long speaking to the French, the gallic influence rubbed off on them and they started acting French themselves.
But a French president has an affair.
But Hollande couldn't hide forever, because he was scheduled to give a live press conference.
Rolling news wiped the schedule clean to watch the President squirm in the spotlight.
Anything could happen! He could break down and beg forgiveness! Or start BLEEP the actress live on stage! He is French.
Or, as he'd been scheduled to do all along, he might speak at length about French economic policy - the big tease.
Although of course in French even that's erotic.
We are talking about going faster, going further, accelerating and going in more depth.
But we have to ensure that this growth be vigorous.
Oooh.
In the end, the First Lady came out of hospital, the Second Lady threatened to sue the magazine, and the President carried on, just as unpopular as he'd been before.
And what had we, the British learned? Nothing.
Except that ultimately the French don't seem to care who the President's BLEEP, as long as he's not BLEEP the country.
Instead of being about a hobbit Ora Wizard, it is about a giant and a robot woman.
Bid if you put them together, she is sort of distant, they sort of balance out and make one person.
It was a bit weird, because it had George Galloway in it and Dennis Waterman and Stewart Lee.
But younger and less funny.
But they are all for them, not real them.
It is about crimes happening miles away, but they are still exciting, so you still sort of care.
And like Sherlock, it is got these clever words that come up so you know what is happening, like each time someone speaks, it explains what's going on.
Sometimes there were words telling you what they said even though you knew what they'd said, because they had words anyway.
I think maybe the way to do it is to watch it once with the words and then again for the pictures.
The man policeman is Danish, and the woman policeman is Swedish, but even though they speak different languages, they don't need some titles to talk to each other, because they are both foreign, so some titles to understand me, because to them, I'm foreign, which they are, too.
They are trying to catch these Beatrix Potter people who are killing people to make a trendy point about politics to impress the guardian.
As well as the robot one, it's got you tube unit and computers, and a bit wearer man is having sex with someone.
The thing is, it's not a nice foreign land like in the holiday programmes.
It's really cold, and there are murders, and you can tell from looking at it that there are hardly any colours allowed over there.
So everything is grey and muted and ominous.
It's probably less depressing being murdered in Scandinavia than anywhere else on earth, because even as you are dying, you would think, oh, well.
At least I can wear red trousers in heaven.
And they probably speak English like in proper places.
The first series of the Bridge was really good, so they made it over here as the Tunnel, and to make it a fair swap, the Danish we made take me out.
Weather! And a UKIP councillor causes outrage by claiming the recent biblical weather has been caused by God punishing the UK for allowing same-sex marriage.
Making him the only UKIP councillor to actively believe in man-made climate change.
The councillor apparently wrote to David Cameron to warn him, but Cameron ignored his letter, or maybe didn't understand it because he doesn't speak 12th century maniac.
In informative scenes, Sky immediately dispatched a reporter to the councillor's waterlogged hometown to badger the godless locals.
Are these floods a sign from God? I don't even believe in God myself.
Drown the heretic! Apparently the deluge is part of a sinister gay plot to fill Britain with water so everyone has to wear rubber all the time.
And the streets will fill with water, making cruising mandatory.
When the news came a-knocking in confrontational scenes, the man himself seemed oddly reluctant to speak to the media, possibly because he believes their heathen camera machines will steal his soul.
I'm not giving any more interviews.
Are your views and embarrassment to the party? UKIP king Nigel Farage suspended the councillor and announced an immediate clear- out of UKIP members with crazy outmoded views, a complex process that involves highlighting the membership list and then hitting delete.
Now, Scotland.
Should it stay or go? Or only see the rest of Britain at weekends? Scottish independence has got a lot of people thinking, none more so than our resident inquisitive human Limmy.
This is Limmy.
It's a big year for Scotland.
Do we want to be ruled by this pack of liars or that? A message will go out from England, Wales and Northern Ireland to everyone in Scotland.
We want you to stay! That's nice.
Is he serious? With that face? I don't know what he's got plans to make Britain great again.
Let's make Victoria Park great again.
Just a lick of paint, please.
Wait a minute, reverse psychology.
We want you to stay.
Does he really think we would do a thing he says? No.
He knows.
He wants us to go.
I don't know what he's got plans to make Britain great again, but I want in.
We want you to stay.
I know you're watching, and I know what you're thinking.
You are thinking of maybe doing this, or this, or this.
We want you to stay.
First answer counts! Do not paint this fence.
Under no circumstances are you to paint this fence.
Food now, and cookery shows are of course a TV staple, but there's so many of them they need a gimmick these days to succeed.
A gimmick like, um Spoons.
Yes, spoons, courtesy of Channel 4's upmarket kitchen contest the Taste, in which former celebrity courtroom star Nigella Lawson has to lick a spoon clean alongside rock'n'roll chef Anthony Bourdain and the world's Frenchest Frenchman Ludo Foffyfonn.
The idea is that the contestants have to win the judges over by creating a funsize helping of creative food.
They should've called it Masterspoon.
Some of the contestants create miniature masterpieces.
While others produce the most preposterous shit to grace a spoon since Uri Geller.
Having sweated and toiled to fill a small ceramic ladle, like your dad did in the Navy, the contestants then sit back nervously to see if the judges can swallow their food without choking, something Nigella should find far easier now Charles Saatchi's not around.
Incidentally, and apropros of nothing, I just thought of a great joke about a famous art collector framing his wife, which I can't repeat for legal reasons.
Anyway, spoons are all very well, but they're not a very adventurous gimmick.
What's really missing on TV is a food show incorporating far-right politics, as exhibited in the recent bizarre cookery video posted online by the BNP's Nick Griffin.
It's just like an episode of Masterrace.
I mean chef.
Essential cooking tool, wooden spoon.
It's weird watching him in his notably well-equipped kitchen, and refreshing to see he doesn't deny the existence of ovens.
Disappointingly he doesn't cook Chicken Supremacist, or Egg Fried Reich, or Swastikka Masala, but a simple stew, which he cooks, in one big melting pot.
Let's have a look at the contents of that pan there.
Just taking on a little bit of colour.
Obviously he likes his ingredients locally sourced, although he's going to be furious when he finds out those British white potatoes are descended from South American immigrants.
Still it's not just cookery tips, there's opinion, too.
So I don't let people tell me that you have to have huge numbers of immigrants to have good cooking.
OK, although to be fair, no-one's ever told anyone that.
We've got a Mexican restaurant near here.
The place isn't swamped with Mexicans.
You take the recipe, and that is all you need.
Ooh, you know, I do wish he wouldn't talk while he's chopping ingredients.
I mean look at the clunky way he wields the knife.
I keep worrying he might not hurt himself.
Then finally the meal is ready to eat.
To be fair, even if some of the diners look less than thrilled to be there, the end product looks good.
Maybe he should've been a chef.
Still, cookery's loss is bigotry's gain.
And if you don't like the dishes he serves up, send them back to where they came from.
Of course those who prefer their cookery a little less politically controversial and a lot more "cashe" can always ingest the swaggering and breezy, laid-back Sunday Brunch with prime geezer Tim Lovejoy.
It's about three hours long, but don't worry if you can't be fussed to sit through all of it, Mr Jake Yapp has condensed it down to 99 seconds, as he'll demonstrate now.
Start the clock.
Good morning and welcome to Sunday Brunch with me, Tim Lovejoy.
It is similar to the show I did on BBC Two.
But was about celebrities and cooking.
This is with guys with their low-rise jeans.
Look at me, I am leaning on the set.
A Scouse sidekick, what are you cooking up? I am doing French toast That is enough from you.
I am the new deadline.
I am so bloody laid-back.
Let's do the autocue.
Watch my eyes glaze over.
Our guests were in a pop group in 1997.
Anyway, let's interview you.
I did not bother to read the notes, I will just win it.
How did you ? What is the most ? I have completely lost control of the interviewed now.
Good job the sound man has remembered I am meant to be in charge let's say something my analytical mind could think up.
Music is really important.
Here is someone we have checked out on MySpace.
They are called Coldplay.
They are going places.
Let's watch Simon Cook.
I will stand awkwardly.
Then Simon will stand next to our guest chef and stand awkwardly.
We have got to the end of the programme, no one has worked out what my role is, time for some low key no eye contact, see you then.
Culture! And in unforgettable scenes, This Morning screens a bizarre live test in which Britain's foremost and indeed only rumpologist demonstrates how to analyse people's backsides.
When I was focusing on Kelly's bottom, it is the right cheek telling me all the past things, the left tells me the future things.
Which, as I suspected, makes the present a shithole.
To test her bum-reading skills they ran a sort of on-air reverse glory hole guessing game.
There are a creative.
Fun to be around.
You know, looking at this, you might think This Morning's just taking the piss, but it isn't.
Although some of its guests are.
How do you start your day? I am a feat guy.
Not these people, they kick off with a glass of their own BLEEP.
-- urine.
I could just think clearer.
Clear enough to think, I know, I'll drink my own piss? So it's socially unacceptable and it tastes horrible, but on the plus side, it's also frowned upon by doctors, specifically a telly doc who looks like Prince playing Doctor Who, doing his best to balance the piss-taking with medical fact.
It is not medically recommended, especially if you are unwell or on medication.
We would not recommend it.
Mmm, I guess it all boils down really to who you want to believe? The qualified medical professional who tells you not to drink piss, or the hairy bloke in the stripy jumper who does? Things were inevitably building towards the money shot in which the happy couple would go on the piss, necking a glass of home-brew Pee-no Grigio live on air, which probably enough to get viewers experimenting with swallowing their own vomit.
Arghh, look at that, you know what that is? That is Cameron's Britain.
Cameron's Britain everybody.
Tsss.
Inevitably, the informative item prompted some lively feedback, which tight-panted bulge-displayer Jeff Brazier did his best to reel off quickly before he had some kind of weird fit.
Zoe says, if that is what they want to do, then let them, people are too quick to judge.
Now.
Sticking with urine and adding some excrement, this week also saw the US TLC channel air stomach churning scenes in the gruesome My Strange Addiction.
Which showcased a woman with a penchant for sniffing and chewing used nappies.
I love it.
It tastes amazing.
I have one in the kitchen, when I am sleeping.
Oh, that's really put me off my piss.
To be fair, this celebratory urine drinking isn't the most upsetting fluid-intake scene I've witnessed on ITV recently.
That'd be Monday's harrowing Coronation Street in which Hayley Cropper drank the ultimate bedtime nightcap.
Come on everyone - Down in one! Down in one! Down in one! Still nice of her to give him a hand job on the way out.
Pop now, and crooning haircutted pebble Justin Bieber's been in trouble with his alleged egg-throwing hi-jinks providing startling fodder for noisy entertainment shows.
A felony investigation into accusations the superstar singer pelted his neighbour's home with eggs.
Frankly, I don't care what he does with eggs as long as he's not fertilising them.
But are pop stars out of control? US comedian and shambles Doug Stanhope thinks they're not out of control enough.
And he'll say so now.
I'm Doug Stanhope and that is why I drink.
You know what? Any time you complain about the kids today, you know you are walking on dangerous ground or just being a pathetic old lock.
This is the weakest generation in recorded history.
Jason Bieber made the news by pissing into a mop bucket.
There is footage of Justin Bieber relieving himself in a mop bucket.
That makes the news today? That is so indicative of what a shit generation this is.
That is the rock and roll lifestyle.
You are not Led Zeppelin chucking TVs out of hotel windows while the drama is dead in the pool.
Oh no, Justin Bieber peed into a bucket.
I know every generation complains about the new kids coming up after them, but in the past, it was always complaining that the new kids were too out of control and taking too many chances.
These kids today are smoking marijuana.
We will be the first generation that is the opposite of that, when we will still complain about the kids today but in the opposite fashion.
Look at these locking kids.
We had a good time.
These sissies drink Red Bull for some pep.
The closest they have ever come to a fist fight is on a message board.
Are you looking at my girlfriend? I am going to unfriend you from my Facebook registry.
I had better delete that BLEEP part.
Wildlife! And a series of depressing news reports describe how a Texan hunting society has auctioned a permit to shoot and kill a rare Namibian black rhino.
The rhino is a magnificent horny beast sadly destined to be unceremoniously mounted over a stranger's fireplace, just like your mum.
Corey Knowlton, the man who paid $350,000 for the permit, outlined his reasoning in a penetrating interview.
I'm a hunter.
I want to experience the black rhino.
I want to be involved with the black rhino.
Sorry, what did that permit allow you to do again? In emotional scenes Knowlton explained that shooting the black rhino is in fact the best way to protect the black rhino.
The fact of the matter is, we raised $350,000 from the black rhino.
It is absolutely going to conservation.
Yes, and with fewer rhinos to spend it on, that money'll go even further.
We are not just saying we are on a rhino hunt, have a beer, it is a scientific process.
Specifically it's an experiment to find out what happens when a rhino gets exposed to lead.
He says the hunt will be good for the heard by targeting an older male past reproduction.
But the news prompted a barrage of death threats, from people who wanted to kill him? Don't look at them as death threats, look at them as conservationists targeting an older aggressive male past reproduction.
Still, despite the outrage, the news made clear he's undaunted - and proud.
In a way, we won, conservation won and the black rhino won.
And it'll celebrate that win with a nice lie down and a rot.
Tainted nostalgia! And there are testing times for yet another fondly-remembered TV icon from yesteryear.
Yes, once upon a time millions enjoyed these loveably manipulative adverts in which chimps carried out road works or dressed as Clockwork Orange characters and lugged furniture around.
Do you know the piano is on my foot? You hum it, some, I'll play it.
We now know that when the cameras weren't rolling they behaved like animals.
Not that being taught to act like humans did them any favours - as a heartbreaking report on Daybreak painfully revealed.
The zookeepers said the chimps did enjoy walking and talking like us but afterwards they had real problems integrating them back into chimp society.
Just like Ross Kemp after EastEnders.
Fortunately, the chimps have now recovered enough to enjoy traditional primate pastimes, like doing nothing and putting shit in their mouths.
Oh.
Cameron's Britain.
I hope you're proud, David Cameron.
That is your Britain.
Of course now we're more enlightened than when these upsetting scenes were filmed.
Today we simply wouldn't force a basic creature to dress and behave like a human against its will, except maybe in those harrowing and tragic Ben Fogle Typhoo ads.
Oh, it shouldn't be allowed.
Of course, Charles Darwin taught us monkeys and mankind are very much alike.
Tomorrow it'll be 175 years since Darwin became a fellow of the Royal Society so to celebrate that, and hard-hitting science in general, Philomena Cunk is about to explore evolution before your very face, in this week's Moments of Wonder.
It is almost unbelievable that before Charles Darwin invented evolution in 1859, no one had ever evolved.
Without him, none of us would be here today, except in the form of fossils or Gibbons.
The story goes that here in this garden in Kent, Darwin saw an apple fall from the tree, and wondered if there was a monkey up there.
And if so, where that monkey might have come from.
Darwin was one of the most famous men of his age.
Like Paddy McGuinness is now except Darwin has a beard which Paddy McGuinness did not, unless they use CGI to paint it out, which they probably do not because it is expensive.
Even though it is obviously just boring today, the origin of species was the biggest sensation of its age, thanks to the twist ending, in which Darwin revealed everyone on the planet had been made out of monkey meat all along.
It caused a battle between science and the church which still rages today although apparently you do not see them fighting like this because it is a metaphorical battle.
Even today, many people still do not believe in evolution but maybe a science man can put them right.
Hello, science man, who are you and what are you an expert in or on? I am Mark Thomas and I am a professor of evolutionary genetics.
What did people do before evolution? There were not any people before evolution.
If we came from monkeys why are there still monkeys? Because some of those monkeys which lived a long time ago turned into other monkeys that we see today like chimp monkeys and so on.
Oh, right.
So the monkeys which did not turn into humans they must be gutted that they did not turn into humans.
Sometimes when I watch these past life hypnosis programmes on satellite channels, all the people on those, they are always ladies in waiting or gladiators, they are never monkeys.
Why is that? Probably because they do not actually remember their past lives.
It is probably not true.
But I find it easier to believe I was a lady in waiting than a monkey.
It is may be easier to believe your ancestors were ladies in waiting but I do not see the problem in believing both your ancestors were ladies in waiting a few hundred years ago and before that Monkey ladies in waiting.
Thanks.
Because evolution cannot be seen, it is hard to believe in like electricity or skeletons.
But one day, maybe we will have evolved eyes which can see evolution and that will prove it is real.
Next week, I will be finding out where clouds go at night.
Well that's about all we've got time for this week, until next time when hopefully you come back, go away.