Category Archives: peter duncan

bye beadle

Regular visitors to this picnic will be aware that only this week I mentioned Gary Numan and some TV show in which the 14-year-old incarnation of Piqued was fucking rude to said popstar. Well, also in this show was Jeremy Beadle, undoubtedly the biggest star amidst a plethora of minor-ish celebs. I remember Peter Duncan (who I was also rude to but I consider that one a fucking success, little shit) Mickey Most, Simon Bates and a very camp GMTV weather reporter that Beadle referred to as ‘Rocky’.

Anyway, I did meet Beadle briefly and I thought he was great. He was like a naughty schoolboy, almost feral, yet charismatic, charming and genuinely funny. In later years when he was on the butt end of criticism for dumbing down TV and making tacky television etc., which I always thought was quite absurd when you looked at the plethora of mind bendingly trite ‘gameshows’ that occupied the schedules at the time –not to mention the shit we put up these days with X Factor, Pop Idol, Strictly Come Ice Ballroom etc., shows that perpetuate the cult of the celebrity- I felt he’d been completely wronged. ‘Watch Out Beadles About’ was at times inspired and ‘You’ve Been Framed’, despite the (superb) contemporary spin that Harry Hill has put on the show, still feels like it belongs to Beadle.

It’s sad that he’ll probably be remembered, despite everything, for a disability as a result of Poland Syndrome, ironic to think that those that accused him of ‘dumbing down’ TV are probably still chuckling about the fact he had a small hand.

After work yesterday, one of the busiest I’ve had in months I shot home and jumped on the tube to meet my bro in a boozer in Clapham. We had a few pints and jolly good chuckle over the Engrish on the Thai menu and I got back home in time for Masterchef. Myfwt had had quite a fraught day and wasn’t in the best of moods, still, she rustled up a delicious supper of goats cheese and onion ravioli with a rich tomato sauce which we ate in front of a ludicrous Grand Designs in which a couple had spent over a grand on a fucking tap.

It’s an awful day today; the rain is horizontal and the wind cyclonic. This weather perfectly reflects my mood. It’s busy in here again but I’m happy to present a youtube offing that continues on from yesterday before I get back to fucking work.

Probot was a project devised by Dave Grohl in which he teams up with his ‘heavy metal’ heroes from the 80’s and 90’s. In many ways it’s a case of Grohl realising his dreams and the upshot is a collection of tunes that occasionally hit the spot but more frequently miss their mark. The track ‘Big Sky’ fronted by Tom G Warrior of Celtic Frost is sadly unavailable so the collaboration with Lemmy will adequately suffice. It’s some video I hasten to add. Turn it up.

Cheerio Jeremy.

salad tosser

I feel shit this morning. I wouldn’t mind but I barely (relatively) drunk last night. I had two pints of IPA in the beer garden with Frank and a can, 1 bloody can, of Calsberg when I got back. I put it squarely at the feet of exhaustion and over indulgence following the weekend.

Yesterday was cack. I could barely keep my eyes open at work, business just wasn’t happening and my Slayer wallet hasn’t arrived. The post here doesn’t arrive until gone 11 so I was like a dog with two, not one, but two members until discovering that the post wasn’t bearing my goods. In fact I’m currently waiting for 2 other items and they’re late too. After that I sort of gave up. If I’d been old and infirm I would’ve probably slipped ‘next door’.

When I cycled back home in the afternoon, I could barely be pissed to pedal and as a result got back ten minutes later than I would if I’d made some sort of effort. If it wasn’t for the appointment with Frank I may have been tempted to take to my bed like a Victorian Duchess. After the drinks I got home and made a marinade for some chicken breast (olive oil, thyme, parsley, chives, seasoning, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, caper vinegar, dash of Worcester sauce and Tabasco) and violently slammed them in the mixture before shoving them in the fridge for an hour. I watched University Challenge, which seemed (comparably) pathetically simple this week before being flabbergasted by Nigella’s ‘Express’ dishes. Despite the fact that I still would, the programme really is awful; I also discovered that the kitchen is a mock up of the kitchen in the house she shares with Charles Saatchi, it’s in a studio off the south circular, so accurate is it that it even comes with children’s drawings. Actually, whilst were on for exposing BBC things, it’s a badly kept secret in the BBC (and comes from a friend who knows the chap in question) that it was Peter Duncan that vandalised the Blue Peter garden following his sacking from the show and a night in the BBC bar.

After I’d cooked the chicken and some streaky smoked bacon, I tore up the former, shredded the latter and combined with rocket, watercress and spinach. I made a dressing by shaking together olive oil, vinegar, garlic puree and capers, before tossing the whole fucking lot together. I’m not really a salad fan; this was so good I got a chubby. I ate the lot in front of a superb programme about The Dandy and The Beano on BBC4, By 11pm I was in bed with a joint and a cup of tea.

Short Piqued today, I’m very busy.

This bird is fucking 50 She’s looking terrific don’t you think? Enjoy her first solo outing since she split with hubby.