Hey, here’s Jamie Ross from Cancerous Capers with a guest blog…
On the grand scale of awful men, Simon Cowell ranks at some point between Josef Goebbels and Gok Wan. Say what you like about the Nazis, but at least they didn't laugh about how fat Eva Braun looked in her pants or employ Piers Morgan.
The list of Cowell?s atrocities against mankind is almost endless. As if making it possible for Piers Morgan to buy food wasn?t bad enough, he's also single-handedly attempted to destroy a once proud music industry by unleashing a seemingly infinite army of squawking, perma-sobbing idiots onto the charts. All whilst wearing his trousers like your senile granddad and his T-shirts like your sexually-ambiguous uncle who's spiralling into a midlife crisis.
But, apparently, it's not enough for Simon Cowell just to be that awful man from the television who uses his terrible personality to bafflingly lucrative effect. He wants to be that awful man from the television who uses his terrible personality to bafflingly lucrative effect? in the future! Huzzah!
“I have decided to freeze myself when I die. You know, cryonics. Medical science is bound to work out a way of bringing us back to life in the next century or so, and I want to be available when they do. I would be doing the nation an invaluable service.”
Picture the scene. It's the year 2372. Life forms from eighteen different planets gather around a mysterious, icy chamber awaiting the defrosting of a man deemed so wonderful and important in his time that he was considered to be an essential gift for future generations.
During an agonisingly slow reveal, televised throughout the universe, wondrous thoughts would enter billions of heads as a collective breath was held. A hand defrosts – one of The Beatles? An arm – Professor Stephen Hawking? Then, slowly but surely, Simon Cowell?s self-appreciative grin and perfectly-square haircut would be revealed and the realisation that it's just that tit who managed Same Difference would cause a disappointment so extreme that it would induce an instant universal apocalypse.
What does Simon Cowell believe he can offer to the people of the future? Is he hoping to be unfrozen to help the world out of the Great Bell-End Famine of 2123? Will the market finally be ready for the twenty-disc Il Divo Anthology? Is he preserving himself for a time when a T-shirt material is discovered which is even more stomach-turningly tight? Only he knows his awful intentions.
I don't know about you, but this is definitely the single most convincing argument I've heard for immediately trebling my personal carbon footprint. The very least we can do for our children?s children is to save them from yet another underwhelming dancing dog act on series nine million of Britain?s Got Talent by inflicting an untimely, fiery death upon them all.
This was a guest blog by the embarrassingly amusing Jamie Ross from Cancerous Capers. Brighten your day there for a change, why don’t you.