Many thanks for making my last poll, undoubtedly the lamest yet, into the highest ranking vote-winner. I asked “What should Shit Sandwich’s next poll be about?”, and appropriately, “Don’t give a toss” was a comfortable winner.

BUT - the cogs of novelty need oiling in order to power HMS Shit Sandwich through the ocean of blog, and so it’s time for a new poll. Inspired by Kyklops, it’s based on my controversial “anti-spam words”. Let me know what you think. You know you want to.

Had a nice weekend in Cambridge, at the home of an ex-girlfriend and hubby. They were holding a  30th birthday party with food and liberal booze - so therefore liberal opportunities to get drunk and insult someone - supplied.

Whilst I certainly got drunk, I’m not sure I managed to oblige on the insult front (although the hostess may be reading this and can correct me if I’m hiding my light under a bushel). My worst sins (I think) were being slightly inappropriate with a couple of married women, making an “only gay in the village” joke (with accent) to a Welsh bloke, nearly falling over and destroying the barbecue whilst playing keepie-uppie, and slipping in a couple of unguarded mentions of hubcap theft to a female lawyer from Liverpool.

I’ll try to do better next time.

Last night’s BBC 3 and 4 output was - for once - rather good. Once we’d got past the “My teen’s a nightmare, I’m killing the kids” shite which seems to be “de rigeur” in the early part of the evening, we had “Lord of the Dance Machine” - about Kyle Morris, “K-Dogg”, one of the UK’s best exponents of DDR. This isn’t pesticide application (or even knowledge of the former East Germany), but Dance Dance Revolution, that arcade game where teenagers jump around on coloured pads. I was expecting monosyllabic grunting, fast food and zits galore, however Kyle was astonishingly intelligent and articulate. I predict a bright future. It’s well worth a watch - repeated twice next week (early Aug).

Oh, and Charlie Brooker’s Screenwipe was also very good - particularly the guy, whose name escapes me now, who was talking about list shows (I love the 100 greatest etc…) Again, well worth a watch. BBC 4 will no doubt repeat it, as they appear to commission only 3 shows at a time, which they show constantly in rotation together with old films and that.

Athole Still - Is this Sven Goran Eriksson’s agent, or just someone with a lisp confirming that the former England manager’s personality remains unchanged?

Belinda Oaten, wife of tubby slap-head rent boy-bothering Lib Dem MP Mark, has been “giving it large” in the last couple of days - talking “exclusively” to Sky and Channel Five (somebody obviously doesn’t understand the word “exclusive”) about how she “forgives him” and all that jive.

She also appeared in well-known and respected political organ “Hello” when the story came out (April), talking about - amazingly enough - how she “forgives him”.

I don’t know about you, sweet reader, but I were so incapable of satisfying my life-partner’s craven carnality that they needed to visit a same-sex prostitute for gratification, I’d shut the hell up for an awful long time, and go and hide in a hole. So why is the fragrant Belinda being so effusive in her public “forgiveness”? Two possibilities:

1) A pre-emptive plug for an upcoming autobiography
2) A crass publicity-seeking stunt designed to lead to appearances on panel shows and maybe even on “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here”.

Either way, it looks very much like she actually means to say “I forgive Mark, as long as he backs my shameless attempts to turn us into the Lib Dem version of the Hamiltons. And by the way, if you want me to talk more about just how much I forgive him, my agent’s number is …..”

Quite an interesting story; an increasing proportion of Americans are now too fat for X-Ray machines, either because they can’t fit in, or because the rays can’t penetrate the blubber. Not that we Brits have much to crow about on the wobble-bottom gut-bucket front, if the streets of Folkestone are anything to go by. I love the official terminology for an X-Ray failure: “These images are limited due to body habitus”.

The question is - will the madrassas of Afghanistan now see a huge rush to the nearest McDonalds (or local equivalent) in order that terrorists can pork up and become the first airline “lard bomber”?

According to test results just released in the USA, cigarettes inhibit the absorption of alcohol. Here was I, quietly proud of my capacity for quaffing red red wine (well, anything I can get my hands on), where all along I’m just costing myself (or whoever I’ve just cajoled into buying a round) more hard-earned pesos because I happen to simultaneously smoke, and therefore the precious alcohol’s getting trapped in some mysterious nicotine-induced ether.

If I was a more cynical type, I’d speculate that this research has been commissioned by some anti-smoking lobby specifically to target people like me who smoke only when they’re drinking. Question is, which would I give up? (And the answer, obviously, is smoking).

Admittedly, the tests so far are on rats, but if the fun-loving party-animals at the BMA ever want to run some field trials in humans in the UK, I’m up for it - please forward free fags and booze to 21 Unhealthy Mansions, Folkestone.

Leather-lunged Iron Maiden frontman and qualified pilot Bruce Dickinson apparently flew a mercy mission to Cyprus to pick up 200 stranded Brits. All well and good, but I can’t help feeling that a free Iron Maiden festival in Southern Lebanon wouldn’t have contributed more to the cause of peace. If only by making soldiers “Run to the Hills”, back to the peace and quiet of their respective safety zones.

A very harsh title for the film, in my opinion. I know Keira Knightley isn’t exactly Jordan, but there’s no need to make such a big deal of it…

Having been astonished at how shit yesterday’s poll of the top “groundbreaking” videos was, I’m now flabbergasted at a list just published of “top British heroes”.

Number 1 is heroic woman-beating tax exile “Sir” Sean Connery. Slightly lower down are money-grabbing hero “Sir” Richard Branson, heroically publicity-fellating effeminate cretinous clothes horse David Beckham, lank-haired heroic fop Jonathan Ross, monosyllabic grunting scouse hubcap-bothering hero Steven Gerrard and, perhaps the greatest hero of them all, a modern-day Achilles - nay, Hercules - Chris Moyles.

I’ve never read anything so mad in my life.  I enjoy “I’m Still Standing” and “I Guess That’s Why They Call it the Blues” as much as the next man, but is “Sir” Elton John a hero? No, he’s a fat queen who spends £10,000 a day on lillies for his bathrooms and throws tantrums every time someone serves him an olive without any pimento in it. What is wrong with you people? (Readership of Shit Sandwich excepted).
Oh, by the way - for any lawyers who might be reading: please apply liberal doses of “allegedly” to anything which might be construed as libellous.)

Full list -

1. Sir Sean Connery - Actor
2. Sir Steve Redgrave - Athlete
3. Jamie Oliver - Chef
4. Sir Richard Branson - Entrepreneur
5. Sir Bob Geldof - Campaigner
6. David Beckham - Footballer
7. Robbie Williams - Singer
8. Jonathan Ross - TV and radio presenter
9. Ewan McGregor - Actor
10. Dame Kelly Holmes - Athelete
11. Sir David Jason - Actor
12. J K Rowling - Author
13. Steven Gerrard - Footballer
14. Sir Elton John - Singer Songwriter
15. Sir Paul McCartney - Singer
16. Chris Moyles - Radio presenter
17. Ant and Dec - TV presenters
18. Ricky Gervais - Comedian
19. Jeremy Clarkson - TV presenter
20. David Walliams - Comedian