Hack novelist, fraudster and implicated spotty-backed murderer Lord Archer (how come he's still a lord after doing porridge?) is threatening to sue the prison service for not boiling his early morning eggs sufficiently and being skimpy with the Vaseline. Archer (56 with matching IQ) served only two years of his four year sentence for
raping small children with a broom handle being a lying twat, during which time he spent weekends at home with his missus (or mister...it's difficult to tell with that hideous old cow) and his weekdays as producer down at the Theatre Royal. (What sort of punishment is that? It's about time I committed a few crimes I reckon if that's the treatment you get in there nowadays!) And yet the talentless old shit continues to complain. Suddenly capital punishment doesn't seem quite so bad.
Meanwhile George Best's liver has decided to divorce him following further sustained abuse. This is Best's fourth liver this year but, despite dire warnings from his surgeon, Best continues to drink forty pints of vodka and one glass of his fifteen year old wife's urine every evening. Interviewed yesterday hanging from Best's chapped lips the liver in question stated, "The NHS can only afford a certain number of internal transplant organs every year and this bastard's been through most of the Alder Hey surplus stocks already. I shall be suing for custody of the kidneys!"
And finally, last night saw the premiere of Cody Something-or-other the name of which I can't be arsed researching but which included that kid out of Malcolm in the Middle in the lead role, in London's West End. The film follows the exploits of a child spy, described by critics as "...a sort of adolescent American version of James Bond." (And I thought James Bond was adolescent enough!) J K Rowling has already contacted her lawyers to see if there's anything in the film worth suing for plagiarism.