It doesn’t any more, though, and Noel Edmonds has got a right old cob on about it. Now that Noel’s made his ‘glorious comeback’ – which mainly involves ordering dimwits to open boxes on daytime Channel 4 and banging on about orbs of energy like some kind of swivel-eyed fairground huckster – he’s decided that everyone at the BBC is a great big idiot and so he doesn’t want to pay his licence fee any more.

So Noel Edmonds has stopped, because of what he describes as the BBC’s ‘threatening’ behaviour. It’s an impressive outburst, not least because the whole world – including Noel Edmonds – knows that Noel Edmonds would probably agree to host a show called Noel’s Donkey Masturbation And Anthrax Hour if it could be on BBC One again.

Noel Edmonds used to be Mr BBC. He had a radio show, he presented Top Gear, he had his own fluffy-jumpered quiz show about television and – best of all – he had Noel’s House Party. And, thanks to the unique way that the BBC is funded, you paid for that. When you saw Noel Edmonds play elaborately smug pranks on Eddie Large, or hop around like a giddy bearded elf pouring gallons of goo over Nigel Mansell, he was spending your money.

But now that Noel Edmonds is on commercial television and only indirectly funded by you, he’s had a bit of a rethink about the whole licence fee thing. Now Noel Edmonds thinks it’s all a load of bollocks and nobody should pay it, because the licence fee adverts are a bit depressing or something. Noel told BBC Breakfast:

“I worked for the BBC for 30 years. When I was there it promoted the licence fee by saying how wonderful it was. But now Auntie’s put boxing gloves on. I am not going to have the BBC or any other organisation threatening me. I’ve cancelled my TV licence and they haven’t found me. Nobody’s coming knocking on my door. There are too many organisations that seem to think it is OK to badger, hector and threaten people.”

This weird little outburst came right before Noel Edmonds’ new Sky One show, Noel’s HQ. If you missed it, it was kind of like that TV show Noel Edmonds used to present on Christmas Day, except with about 20 times extra Daily Mail-style public outrage. It was – what’s the word – odd.

But, to be fair, Noel Edmonds has got a point. The fun’s gone out of not paying your licence fee these days. Not so long ago you’d feel more like a renegade spy, living in the belief that a special van drove around the country with an impossibly advanced licence fee detection radar trying to catch people out. But now we all know that there’s just a database with everyone’s details on it, it’s hardly worth dodging your licence fee at all.

And because he’s admitted not paying his licence fee, Noel Edmonds has already got in trouble. There’s talk of him losing his ceremonial title of Deputy Lieutenant of Devon over it. Hopefully, though, the powers that be will see sense and, rather than just sack Noel Edmonds outright, they’ll simply demote him temporarily to Chief Petty Officer of Babbacombe (Scones And Yokel Division).

Ultimately, though, we have to side with Noel Edmonds on this argument. Like him, we’re sick of being threatened and bullied by television. It’d be so much better if all TV shows just fostered unintelligible, scientifically-berserk theories about positive energies having the ability to tangiably move physical objects to disguise the fact that they’re really just programmes about simple people arbitrarily opening some boxes, wouldn’t it.

In fact, given the level of lunacy collected on spEak You’re bRanes - a site named after the classic segment on The Day Today – the planet would have so much excess power whirring around that we’d be forced to jettison some of it into space, thereby knocking the moon out of orbit and upsetting UFO pilots.

All the comments on spEak You’re bRanes are taken directly from the ‘Have Your Say’ section of the BBC News website. It’s essentially a ‘best of the worst’ of amazingly misguided public opinion. Be warned, however – trawl these archives and you’ll find that the eternal laugh/cry dichotomy has never been so stark nor so fierce…

spEak You’re bRanes

Then something happens that picks you up, makes you happy again and fills you with a beaming smile that somehow manages to envelop your entire body, filling your whole physical presence with joy from head to toe.

Take, for example, when a UFO sighting was reported somewhere in Wales, and this police radio conversation was conducted:

Control: "Alpha Zulu 20, this object in the sky, did anyone have a look at it?"

Officer: "Yes, it's the Moon. Over."

hecklerspray loves you, Wales.

Original Story (BBC)

It’s not a scrawny wife or badly-named children – there are plenty of people like that across the country. Instead it’s a shed full of money that he’s made via creating music that wants to make you open the curtains and screaming out loud” hello world, how ya doing?” .

He may need a bigger shed to stash his money in as Coldplay have only gone and sold a bucketful of copies of their new album Viva La Veda. Maybe people have stopped downloading illegally, or the local Chinese man didn’t have any dodgy copies ready when we last saw him in the pub.

To flog records, you need to promote it. Chris Martin and the drummer stopped by to the Radio 4 show Front Row to do this. Only it didn’t go that smoothly.

It has to be said, doing endless interviews can get slightly boring and repetitive. In order to stop doing the same thing again and again, interview discs are knocked up, featuring pre-recorded questions and answers.

These are then shipped off to crap local radio DJs, who then lie and pretend they were graced by someone more famous then the person who just got kicked out of Big Brother.

But for high profile publicity jaunts, it needs to be done live, or if time isn’t on your side, pre-recorded. This happened with the Front Row program. Now, let’s get one thing clear. At Radio 4, they don’t make jokes about poo like hecklerspray does.

The station is pretty high brow and won’t ask questions like: “Do you marmie?” , “When did you last vomit up your insides?”, or “What do you want written on your gravestone“.

No, Radio 4 are much more mature then hecklerspray and it probably explains why we never got an interview slot with them.

Coldplay’s new album is called Viva La Veda and kind of conjures up images of war, fighting and other military stuff. Not exactly fun and thrilling. If you notice, the artwork for the album also reflects this. So, it would seem fairly obvious that clever journalistic folk may pick up on this and ask questions? To us, yes but to Chris Martin, no.

According to the BBC :

“Presenter Wilson questioned whether the new album – full title, Viva La Vida Or Death And All His Friends – was a morbid reflection of the band’s lyrical obsession with death.”

Not really a hard question to answer, but like a timid school boy, Martin asked to be excused because “he wasn’t enjoying” himself and not because he was bursting for a piss. Poor Chris, it must be so different from Jo Whiley on Radio 1 not kissing your arse and worshiping at your eco-friendly carbon neutral feet.

Maybe Radio 4 should have been a bit more like Radio 1 and presented questions to him in text form: “Y ave u kaled ur nu album Viva La Veda? I tink ur h0t Criz”. Lessons learnt for next time.

While Coldplay can’t escape the death references on their album, they should have probably commissioned artwork that didn’t tie into this concept. Maybe a lady with her legs spread open. Not only is it “controversial” but it may prove they have some balls [Coldplay not the lady].

To hear Chris Martin being a total twat, follow the link!

Read More:

Martin Walks Out Of BBC Interview – BBC

Sharon recently quit ITV1’s X Factor because of something about money. She wasn’t getting her cut of the phone-in vote or something (just joking Sharon). Whatever, she left them, and it doesn’t look like she’s going back.

But then again she’s no doubt said that to Ozzy a few dozen times over the years. And yet, no matter how big the betrayal, she still remains by his side.

The poor fella – as if being a human vibrator wasn’t enough to live with without that over-opinionated ear-ache hanging about the place.

Actually, that probably explains why she stays put – they don’t have sex anymore, Sharon just straddles one of Ozzy’s wrists and focuses on a picture of Rhydian until her gushing, squawking, tinitus-inducing climax.

So, yes, Sharon has left ITV and looks set to leave her panel show days behind her.

God, we give you our heartfelt thanks. You really do look after us when it comes down to it.

Next time though, if you wouldn’t mind awfully, would it be OK if, instead of sending her to another broadcaster, you just sent her to somewhere like hell, for example? Just a thought – not that we want to tell you how to do your job or anything! Haha! But seriously, think about it. If you want to haggle with purgatory then, you know, we’re open to that prospect.

Rumour has it that, should Sharon get with the Beeb, she will join the cast of Strictly Come Dancing and – now for the best news of the day – it won’t be as a panelist! Woo hoo! Just a measly contestant.

According to The Sun, a ‘pal’ revealed last night:

It would make one hell of a TV battle, so don’t be surprised to see her hitting the dancefloor. Sharon has not fallen out with Cowell, not in the slightest. It all comes down to two things — money and Dannii. At the moment, she’s filming America’s Got Talent for Cowell and she’s concentrating on her US TV projects. Early last year, Sharon was meant to appear in Dancing With The Stars, the US version of Strictly, but she had to pull out to have an operation. She’s always wanted to do it, so what better time to put on her dancing shoes and go up against the X Factor than when the shows start again in September?

Which one are you gonna watch: X-Factor or Strictly Come Dancing? You, like hecklerspray, are now wetting yourselves in anticipation. Has life ever been so exciting?

We just can’t decide and so, instead of watching either of them, we’re just gonna throw our TVs out the window and literally do something else more interesting.

His thirst for knowledge, his elegance in communication, his unparalleled integrity – it all amounts to a man with the cosmic value of a billion yous. If only he didn’t accept his knighthood, we can safely assume he’d have been the first perfect ape in existence.

But, as we all know, all good things must come to an end and, unfortunately for David, he has ended his life long before death even got the chance too, for he has declared – like some sort of maniac – that celebrity culture is ‘ghastly’.

How dare he! Do you see us calling his body of work ‘ghastly’? No, of course not, it’d be damn rude of us but, seeing as he started it, eat this Attenborough: Erm…uh…oh, there’s nothing good to say…uh, may have to resort to childishness…yep, it seems so…why don’t you go fuck a panda, you bloody, grey, arse-head!

In an interview about the current state of UK television and the BBC in particular, the senile fuddy-duddy said this:

It’s all about celebrity, which is a disaster; it’s ghastly. The celebrity cult means you are famous without talent. The BBC is as guilty as the other channels. Popularism has pervaded our society. It is a distorted form of democracy and egalitarianism. Celebrity is a legacy from the time when the BBC was seen to be patrician and condescending, and knowing what was best for the rest.

Ooh, check out Mr Big-Words! You think you’re so clever cos you know what words like ‘egalitarianism’ and ‘patrician’ mean, yeah? Well, if you’re mister-know-it-all, then why don’t you tell us what Britney Spears has been up to recently?

You don’t know, do ya? Are you an idiot, David? Are ya? Because we all know – she went to the beach. How do you feel now? Like scum? We bet you haven’t even got the slightest inkling as to when Jamie-Lynn Spears last went shopping for baby items.

Get with the times, Grandad. You’re the same as all the other OAPs out there: ‘Oh, I don’t understand how to work the remote, so I will therefore come to the conclusion that VCRs are the devil’s work’.

Just because you don’t understand the allure of hounding talentless freaks into an early grave, David, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Lest we forget, you are a celebrity yourself – is this merely jealousy rearing its ugly head? No one takes pictures of you down the beach, do they? No, and there’s a bloody good reason for it.

And so, regrettably, we here at hecklerspray encourage you to find yourself a nice pair of slippers, as well as a large vat of Night Nurse, and silently rest through until your time here has expired, like any other self-respecting old person would.

(If you are interested in reading a far less silly, more in-depth and generally better version of this story, then please follow the link below)

Read More – Sir David Attenborough enters political jungle – Telegraph

Throughout the corporation’s long and established history, a selection of programming has been available to cater for every taste. For the petty criminal, the opportunity to see your handy work appear on Crimewatch was an accolade to suggest you were up there with the Kray twins in terms of hardness. And for the freeloader, the chance to have Changing Rooms decorate your house for nowt could save a few quid on decorating bills.

In the last few years, however, some diabolical cynics have said the BBC has been dumbing down. How dare they. However, if reports are to be believed, programming chiefs at the BBC may want their heads smashed together. You see, they may be commissioning a UK version of a Japanese TV show we looked at last year – Hole In The Wall, otherwise known as Human Tetris.

Everyone knows Tetris. It’s the 23-year-old Nintendo game that the BBC wants to turn in to a hip new primetime TV show.

As mentioned, we stumbled across Human Tetris last year. To call it weird is an understatement. Basically, gigantic planks with elaborate holes cut into them move towards the contestant, who has to bend his body into a similar shape to fit through it. Contestants have to be contortionists to really stand any chance of winning a prize – which is probably a ten percent discount voucher at the local chippy. It is Japanese to be fair, so we’d expect nothing else.

According to Digital Spy:

“BBC One has ordered a pilot of the show from distributor Fremantle and may take it on for Saturday primetime.”

Saturday night primetime? Is this really what things have come to? On the other hand, we’d rather watch cat mutilation than what currently passes for Saturday night primetime BBC - Andrew Lloyd-Webber gurning like a creepy git at some women – so maybe this Human Tetris thing isn’t such a bad idea.

The only question we have is who’d present the thing? Nobody with any credibility would want to touch it, surely. But some people will do anything for fame. So we put forward the beast otherwise known as Kinga from Big Brother to present it. You know, the fat lass who wanked herself off with a wine bottle in the garden? Our mate Mick said if you put your head near her black hole and shout, you’ll hear it echo for at least seven seconds. It’s that big. People have got lost in there.

If this is true and Human Tetris becomes a BBC TV show, we expect ITV to go one better. They’ll take members of the public to a secret military base, inject them with liquids and give them Street Fighter-style fireball powers. Now that would be worth watching. Better them Amir Kahn any day!

Read more:

BBC One May Make ‘Human Tetris’ Series – Digital Spy

And, as is normal for The Apprentice, the full line-up of candidates angling for a £100,00 job being Sir Alan Sugar's monkey-slave have been revealed. But what are this year's gang of Apprentice contestants actually like?

Well, one is a global pricing leader, one is an international car sales strategist, one is… oh, let's cut to the chase – all the Apprentice contestants will be hateful, ambitious, money-fixated, ladder-climbing arseholes who don't have the skills to match their endless tiresome self-promotion; the sort of people who you'd punch to death in a second if they came up to you and started trying to network. That probably covers them all. 

The Apprentice starts next week, and it finds itself in something of a rut. Although the last season of The Apprentice got some pretty incredible ratings, there's no escaping that a lot of it was pretty dull. Sell coffee, sell sweets, sell art, sell sausages – most of the show was just the exact same task over and over again, which hardly seems like a good way of testing people's versatility.

So that's something that The Apprentice had better start changing if it doesn't want to become a self-parody. A bigger problem, though, is the quality of candidates it needs to find. All the really good candidates applied in the first three years and now all that's left are rejects from previous selection processes and newcomers who just want to be on TV.

It's a fine balance that The Apprentice needs to walk – too far one way and you've got a dull show full of dull people, too far the other way and you've introduced so many new rules and punishments that you've got The Apprentice LA, which is probably the last thing that anyone at the BBC wants.

This season of The Apprentice needs memorable contestants like never before – they need people as unlikeable as Ruth Badger, as angry as Tre Azam and as borderline personality disorder-suffering as Katie Hopkins. Plus some of them totally need to be doing it.

So with that in mind, let's have a look at this year's gang of 16 Apprentice hopefuls – 15 of which will be fired with the remaining one being paid £100,000 a year to throw heaps of unsold Amstrad email phones into a flooded quarry or something:

Nicholas De Lacy Brown, 24 – twat.

Jennifer Celerier, 36 – brassy twat.

Jennifer Maguire, 27 – horsey twat.

Raef Bjayal, 27 – gigantic twat wanker.

Claire Young, 29 – hateful twat.

Lucinda Ledgerwood, 31 – Lucinda? Twat.

Kevin Shaw, 24 – friends with Jenson Button twat.

Simon Smith, 35 – recovering drug addict twat.

Helene Speight - gender-confused twat.

Sara Dhada, 25 – arsehole.

Michael Sophocles, 24 – bell-end.

Ian Stringer, 26 – fame-hungry bastard.

Shazia Wahab, 35 – turdhole.

Lee McQueen, 30 – moron.

Lindi Mngaza, 22 – dyslexic twat.

Alex Wotherspoon, 24 – accident-prone tit.

Those are their official Apprentice descriptions, too. We know, we thought they were a bit harsh as well.

Read more:

Meet This Year's Boardroom – Metro 

To any readers outside the UK, here's a bit of expo: Grange Hill was a high-school drama that was first broadcast in February 1978, and has since gone on to feature gritty storylines about bullying, pregnancy, alcohol abuse and even heroin addiction. Kind of like Sweet Valley High as reimagined by Ken Loach, then.

According to the BBC, though, Grange Hill just isn't speaking to the youth of today. The cheeky little youngsters of the modern era are too busy either forming gangs, playing Call Of Duty 4 online or claiming Pete Doherty to be a poet (only the particularly dim ones, mind) to tune into a long running TV favourite.

According to CBBC Controller Anne Gilchrist:

"The lives of children have changed a great deal since Grange Hill began and we owe it to them to reflect this. We have to not confuse our own nostalgia for something that we loved for something that children will want nowadays. We think we have got a lot of exciting new shows coming up that will please them and challenge them equally as well as Grange Hill did in the past."

Something which seems questionable for two reasons. Firstly, hecklerspray has a lot of nostalgia for genius late-80s kids sketch show Round The Bend, and can confidently say that – if it was brought back – the exploits of Psycho The Magician and The False Teeth From Outer Space would delight a whole generation anew the nation over.

Secondly: doesn't it seem like a depressing thought that teenagers wouldn't be able to 'identify' with Grange Hill (ostensibly a group of non-patronising screen characters dealing with issues that genuinely affect the audience at home)? Isn't it genuinely despairing that young adults would now have to turn to something like Skins as a reflection of their lives – a gaggle of whiny upper-middle-class catalogue models who perpetuate the uniquely British myth that getting pissed and shagging is apparently revolutionary, and not something human beings have been doing since the dawn of time? Yeah, yeah – we know that Skins isn't technically a show for kids. But tell us it's not being marketed as such. Go on. You'll be lying. 

Another odd comment comes from Jon East, head of Children's Drama at the BBC:

"For 30 years, Grange Hill has become a byword for realistic and contemporary children's drama. It's now time to apply what we've learned over the years to some of the new ideas we're exploring."  

Hmm. Sorry for hecklerspray to get on our high horse here – it won't happen often, promise – but shouldn't the BBC be developing and honing one of their flagship kids shows to move with the times, instead of simply abandoning it in favour of Mattel's All-Action Toy-Selling Half-Hour or whatever they're going to shove on in its place?

Ah, forget it. All just pipe dreams, eh? We'll have to resign ourselves to the fact that a generation will never know the glorious likes of Knightmare or The Lowdown.  While we're on the subject of 1980s kids television, though, we do have one more question we'd like to ask.

We'll let Elliot take it from here.

Oh – and then Simon. 

Read More:

BBC to shut gates on Grange Hill – BBC

So why is Delia Smith like Jay-Z? Well, her forthcoming gangsta rap album All Eyez On Me (I'm Making Flapjacks) is certainly one reason, and the other is that she's about to break her own self-enforced retirement. The BBC has announced that Delia Smith is set to make her television comeback next year, six years after announcing that she'd hung up her whisk for good, with an update of her 1971 book How To Cheat At Cooking. Of course, the TV cooking landscape has changed immeasurably over the last six years, so it's clear that Delia needs a gimmick – which is why she plans on screaming all her recipes like they're red-eyed, wobbly-legged football chants.

Look around at the state of television cookery at the moment and what have you got? Gordon Ramsay bellowing swearwords. Jamie Oliver slowly transforming into a Shed Seven-loving Michael Winner. Nigella Lawson dressed in tinfoil knickers pretending that she's friends with poor people. Heston Blumenthal cooking a burger atom by atom using a particle accelerator made out of unicorn piss. Food Poker – a programme so hopelessly schizophrenic that it's like a nightmarish Vietnam veteran's flashback as presented by Matt Allwright.

What TV cookery needs now is a steady hand – an awoken monolith who can show these upstarts how things are done. And, clearly, that means Delia Smith. Delia Smith is the undisputed queen of the TV kitchen – if Delia writes a recipe involving cranberries, the whole country sells out of cranberries in a day. If Delia shows us how to make omelettes properly, the whole country sells out of omelette pans in a day. And if Delia turns up on YouTube drunkenly shouting into a microphone at a football match, the whole country lurches around sporting venues all red-eyed screaming "Let's be 'avin you! Come on!" the next day. That's the all-encompassing power of Delia Smith's influence.

And now, after a six-year absence, Delia Smith is returning to television to teach us slack-jawed morons how to cook food without buggering it up by hitting packets of pasta with wooden spoons like bloody cavemen. Next year Delia Smith will return to the BBC with an updated version of her 1971 book How To Cheat At Cooking, with a BBC spokesperson saying:

"It's going to be something we've not done before with Delia, showing how to cut corners, but not cut corners on quality or taste. We're also going to show her life beyond the kitchen. It's great that she's coming back and it's showing more of her life than ever before."

Now, we know what you're thinking. Delia Smith's How To Cheat At Cooking sounds an awful lot like Nigella Express, but hopefully it won't copy Nigella Express' 'don't worry if you haven't got any eggs, use one of your shoes or whatever instead' mentality. Or end each show with Delia Smith smearing butterscotch sauce across her face in a silky nightie like Nigella does. We really hope that last one doesn't happen, by the way. We have trouble enough sleeping as it is.

But, hey, if anyone's qualified to stare into a TV camera and awkwardly intone ways that the general public can cheat at cooking, it's Delia Smith. All we have to do now is see if Delia Smith cheats at cooking the same way we cheat at cooking – but let's hope not, because watching a 66-year-old woman eat a three-day-old slice of takeaway pizza in front of Loose Women with one sausagey hand rammed down the front of her trousers isn't entertainment. But it is strangely arousing.

In the name of the titting Father, this is some surprising news. More surprising, in fact, than that time Christ, Buddha and Muhammed got rip-snorted on PCP and went cruising for gay prostitutes in the Tower Of Babel car park. And certainly a damn sight more shocking that the mythical 'eighth day', during which – following a rest on Sunday – God sparked up a massive joint and had a big celestial wank over some girls from Hollyoaks.

Apparently a Christian activist has still not forgiven the BBC for screening the controversial Jerry Springer: The Opera a couple of years back – a production which featured Jesus dancing around in a nappy. He's now seeking to use blasphemy laws to prosecute the executive responsible for screening it. Well, blow us down with one of Allah's rancid farts.

Jerry Springer: The Opera? It had its flaws, sure, but it was certainly interesting. Okay, okay – not quite as interesting as that time Jesus was let down from the cross for half-an-hour to perform air guitar to his favourite Cradle Of Filth records. And definitely, definitely, not as interesting as that time Muhammed thrust his fist into the anus of a pig, pulled out the innards and then began to devour them, shouting "mmm, mmm, pork is just yummy" in a voice that many spectators likened to Julian Clary.

The case is being brought by Christian Voice member Stephen Green, whose lawyer Michael Gledhill reckons that:

  "Jerry Springer – The Opera" would never have been staged or aired in Britain had it been a satire about Islam, not Christianity. No theatre would have produced it. Neither would the BBC have broadcast it.'

By the fizzing piss of Buddha – is he right? Not according to civil liberties group Liberty, who claim that:

"These blasphemy laws should be shelved in dusty archives, not used as a tool to bring mischievous prosecutions against the arts."

We just don't know. Blasphemy has always been a confusing matter for hecklerspray. Believe it or not, we even sometimes attract complaints about it. True, not as many complaints as that time Allah and God drove a car through the underpass where Diana died, throwing buckets of deity-sick out of the window and yelling "the people's princess was a hooker." And nowhere near as many complaints as that time Jesus returned to earth in a beam of light, only to take a big poo in a vicar's hat and then laugh as he fed it to some blind kittens.

So. You know. We're probably not the best people to approach on the matter.

Incidentally – while religious people are reporting to be getting increasingly riled by the situation – any grown-ups in the vicinity were unavailable for comment.

There was the huge phone-in competition furore, which suggested to shocking effect that – gasp – people in television may not tell the truth on a regular basis, and that the rigid integrity of naming a Blue Peter cat or trying to win a pikey holiday on GMTV may be called into question.

Bigger than that, though, was the Celebrity Big Brother racism row, during which Volkswagen-with-lipstick Jade Goody got into all sorts of trouble because of her constant hassling of fellow contestant Shilpa Shetty. Mind you, it's not as if such ignorant views seemed particularly surprising when they spewed out of Jade's mouth – she is, after all, a cretin of almost biblical proportions whose sole brain cell is mostly occupied by deciding which brand of lard to inject next.

It's not as if some nice, middle-class, well-educated BBC presenter was spouting such drivel.

Until now.

Radio 2 presenter Sarah Kennedy has found herself in a spot of bother after she decided to share the following insight live on air. Something about, y'know, not being able to see black people in the dark and all that:

"You know what happened to me yesterday. It was this black guy. It's lucky he opened his mouth to yawn or do something and I saw him. He was wearing a black hat, black clothes and he was just invisible."

Amazingly, this isn't the first time that Kennedy has launched into such a diatribe. In a 2000 discussion about genetics, she baffled listeners by claiming that black people make good runners because:

"…they are used to being chased by lions."

Christ. Those BBC funding cuts must really have taken hold. What was once the cross-media pride of the nation has now devolved into the sort of puerile babble you'd usually find taking place between two blokes called Daz at a particularly dodgy branch of Wetherspoons.

The BBC has issued an apology. But that isn't enough. Hecklerspray demands a human sacrifice. How about Chris Moyles? We'll clear out Trafalgar Square, put a gallows in there, and put a note in our diaries next Wednesday afternoon: 'spectate at an entirely justified hanging'. 

Then add another three weeks for the cremation, obviously.

Read More:

BBC Apologise For Racial Slur – BBC