Will somebody please explain to the Great British public that Ulrika Johnson is a talentless, worthless old slapper with no redeeming qualities whatsoever?

For once I'm not going to blame the media for the fact that she's on every magazine cover, newspaper front page, early evening television programme etc. After all, they're only feeding the zombified populace with the sort of shallow celebrity gruel that such factory-fodder demands.

But, to be blunt, I'm sick of seeing her ugly Norwegian face wherever I look. I don't give a stuff about her opinion on men, on fashion, on football or on politics. The woman is a nothing. A big fat zero. A nonentity of the first degree. She's never done squat. She can't sing, she can't write, she can't tell jokes, she can't draw, she can't act and she can't formulate an opinion to rival the steam off my shit.

She's just one of those irritating, weasly twats that are famous simply for being famous. I don't care if she slept with Sven Whatever-his-name-is. He's another boring, untalented Norwegian. And while we're about it, will somebody please explain to the British population that football is crap as well? It's mindless, uninteresting drivel. Two hours (or however long it takes) of a couple of dozen thick bastards trying to launch a pig's bladder off their toecaps between two sticks. Every week. For ever.

My suspicion about Ulrika is that the average braindead Brit is trying to replace that other icon of blandness, Princess Diana, to fill out his/her worthless, dull little life. Although, to be honest, I found an old plank on the beach yesterday that had far more character than either of them, was more photogenic and would cost far less to photograph.

Admittedly it hasn't slept with Sven yet...but that's only a matter of time surely.