Everybody on twitter (yaa boo, sucks to you) is muttering about the UK Citizenship Test. This is the test that is flung in the face of immigrants with a look of “Go on. How much do you love tedious facts about the UK?”

There’s questions about the number of constituencies we have and the like. Of course, no right minded UK citizen would know that. Only a complete bell-end would.

And so, with people who have lived in the UK roundly failing the test (us included), we’ve decided to make a citizenship test that actually works, filled with questions about things that are unique to this stupid collection of horrible countries and provinces. See how well you fare over the jump, scum.

Before we start, if you’d like to try your hand at the official UK Citizenship Test, you’ll find 24 impossible questions over at ukcitizenshiptest.co.uk

If you’ve followed that link and failed miserably, try our questions on for size.

Obviously, they’re much more relevant to being One Of Us than any stupid set of questions set by some faceless goon in a drab grey suit in some beige office somewhere.

Okay? LETZGO!

1. Everybody hates?

a) Chris.

b) Man United

2. When holidaying outside of the UK, what is the best way to converse with foreigners?

a) Learn key phrases and try your best to join in.

b) Shout loudly in English while horrifically drunk while wiping the fried egg from your football shirt.

3. What is the best way of finding out whether someone from Northern Ireland is Catholic or Protestant?

a) Engage them in conversation about The Troubles and, without judging them, ask which side of the fence they happen to be on without assuming they’re all terrorists.

b) Ask them if they support Celtic or Rangers.

4. What’s the difference between Rugby Union and Rugby League?

a) Geographical and class differences are often cited, but really, it’s a slight difference in rules.

b) They’re both stupid sports for idiots, so who really cares?

5.What do you think of the Royal Family?

a) They’re a fabulous institution.

b) Kill them. All of them.

6. What is irony?

a) A use of words which convey a meaning that is the opposite of the literal meaning, used for comedic effect. Often confused with sarcasm.

b) Typing LOL at the end of tweets.

7. What is suitable summer wear in the UK?

a) Linen trousers. Straw boaters. Striped blazers. Anything that goes with Pimms and a dappled day.

b) Deep sea diver outfit.

8. You meet a Welshman. What do you say?

a) Bore da! Twll dîn pob Sais!

b) Anything that implies they have sexual relations with sheep.

9. The Scottish are best known for what?

a) A wicked sense of humour, ruddy faces and a people of innovation and industry.

b) Alcoholics.

10. What do English people think of other English people?

a) They identify with each other and embrace the similarities and differences, acknowledging the wide gene pool which made the nation so powerful over the centuries.

b) Unequivocal hatred, regardless.

10. What is the pinnacle of the UK’s achievements?

a) Huge leaps in medicine, industry and technology. The UK is a leader, always willing to adapt to change.

b) Only Fools and Horses.

11. The X Factor is watched by?

a) A huge number of people who are interested in the juxtaposition between a televised talent show and the reality format made famous by shows like Big Brother.

b) People who hate it.

12. If England celebrated St George’s Day, it would do it how?

a) A uniquely English and eccentric celebration of folk traditions like Morris Dancing, followed by the drinking of real ale and singing of ancient English folk songs. Just like the Irish and Scottish do when celebrating their own heritage!

b) Middle eastern kebabs, Belgian lager, American pop music and overt racism.

13. Politicians are defined how?

a) Groups of people unified by their collective ideologies who aim to look after everyone in the UK the best they can.

b) They’re all posh liars.

14. Teachers have it easy. They do sod-all work and have loads of holidays. GCSEs are too easy as well. We’d be better off without them. Shirkers and hippies the lot of ‘em.

a) False

b) True

15. Sexism is…?

a) A problem that is being taken very seriously by citizens of the UK. Progress is being made toward breaking the ‘glass-ceiling’.

b) Funny and prevalent on British gameshows.

16. People in the UK see their cars as an absolute and divine right. Walking is for losers. Petrol should be really cheap as well, regardless of the fact there’s about a litre of it left.

a) False

b) True

17. Eurovision?

a) A fun night in watching music from all over Europe.

b) It’s a fix. Stupid foreigners and their tactical voting. Also, bring back Wogan.

18. In the mornings, UK residents sit down and watch a man called Jeremy Kyle berate working-class people in such a manner that one judge called the whole spectacle ‘human bear-baiting’. Despite being one of the most appalling humans to have ever grace television screen, Jeremy Kyle is well-paid and keeps getting more work.

a) False

b) True

19. The London 2012 games is a huge source of pride for UK residents.

a) Of course it is. The Olympics is an amazing showcase of human endeavour and achievement. To host it is an honour that will resonate for centuries.

b) It’s going to be awful and we will absolutely cock it up.

20. Calling someone who is to the left of the political spectrum ‘liberal’ is a gigantic insult.

a) False

b) True

21. When a famous person dies, what is the first thing you should do?

a) Take a moment of reflection to ponder on what they gave to us and think about our own mortality.

b) Compose a humorous text or tweet.

22. What is the main appeal of cricket?

a) It’s a wonderful game of tactics, flair and patience.

b) It sounds nice when they hit the ball.

23. What does the editorial policy of the Daily Mail?

a) To cover current events and affairs in an even handed way, with a slight leaning to the right of the political spectrum.

b) Free CDs and fear.

24. Do you like queuing?

a) No. It’s a pain.

b) Yes. Complaining is great too. Can I do both at the same time please?

If you answered mostly As, then sorry. You’ll have to go back to whichever country you came. You clearly haven’t been paying attention.

If you answered mostly Bs, then here’s your pint of Stella and fondness for pie. Welcome aboard!

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Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.

Ghosts. If they don’t make the heads of teenage girls spin around while vomiting straight out 100 feet in every direction, we’re not interested. If the ghosts do do that, we’re interested alright, but only from a distance of at least 101 feet.

The story of the Stockwell Poltergeist doesn’t contain an ounce of vomit. We know you’re probably disappointed. Also there are no farts, burps or any disgusting sullying of panties. We’re just being upfront with you here. What it does have is about 20 hours of super strange and noisy goings on.

It also has this sworn statement by six witnesses:

“The above narrative is absolutely and strictly true, iii[sic?] wit­ness whereof we have set our hands this eleventh day of Janu­ary, 1772.”

1772 was a bumper year. Not only did it see mankind isolate nitrogen for the first time, but it was also the year man’s balls first descended into the scrotum, allowing for increased fertility and an explosion in several population groups. In fact, it could be argued that if it weren’t for the great ball descension ’72, you might not even been born. We’d have been born though. All our ancestors always had testicles way up in their stomachs.

It was also a crazy year for poltergeisting, apparently. Have you ever heard of the Stockwell Poltergeist? Neither had we. Probably because of all the archaic html they used in those days. It didn’t hold up – and 90% of all their 1772 websites have been lost forever.

Luckily though – the related sworn statement that six of the witnesses signed made it through the ages. It’s a very detailed account. It’s also a very long account, so we’ll just give you excerpts. First for the setup.

Mrs. Golding was an old bag that owned a great big farmhouse. It was in her place that the madness started. What kind of madness, you might ask? Well it appears there was no shortage. From the document written by the six witnesses at the time:

“On Monday, January the 6th, 1772, about ten o‘clock in the forenoon, as Mrs. Golding was in her parlor, she heard the china and glasses in the back kitchen tumble down and break; her maid came to her and told her the stone plates were falling from the shelf; Mrs. Golding went into the kitchen and saw them broke. Presently after, a row of plates from the next shelf fell down likewise, while she was there, and nobody near them…”

“…this astonished her much, and while she was thinking about it, other things in different places began to tumble about, some of them breaking, attended with violent noises all over the house ; a clock tumbled down and the case broke ; a lan­tern that hung on the staircase was thrown down and the glass broken to pieces ; an earthen pan of salted beef broke to pieces and the beef fell about…”

That there is just for starters, mind you. Multiple witnesses came by. One said the crazy happenings were because the weight of a room recently added was too much for the foundation of the house. This seemed like a decent explanation, apparently, but everything still got weirder.

One of the other witnesses was a doctor that stopped by. His part goes like this:

“Among the persons who were present was Mr. Gardner, a surgeon, of Clapham, whom Mrs. Pain [Mrs. Golding's niece who was sent for, as far as we can tell] desired to bleed her aunt, which he did. Mrs. Pain asked him if the blood should be thrown away : he desired it might not, as he would examine it when cold…[but] the blood that was just congealed, sprang out of the basin upon the floor, and presently after the basin broke to pieces!”

Now obviously everyone is spooked at this point. Everything really started picking up. Some of it happened as people were trying to empty the houses they thought might collapse. Things were exploding in people hands for no apparent reason. Golding was house hopping too. She’d been spooked out of her own house – but this stuff just kept happening everywhere Golding and her new maid went.

Did you catch that bit where we said ‘new maid’? Well all the witnesses started to notice that the maid really wasn’t freaked out about the haunting. In fact, she seemed quite calm. And then they all noticed something else:

“…in the midst of the greatest confusion, [the maid] was as much composed as at any other time, and with uncommon coolness of temper ad­vised her mistress not to be alarmed or uneasy, as she said these things could not be helped. Thus she argued, as if they were common occurrences, which must happen in every family.”

That’s not all. The spooky happenings kept ratcheting up. Tables were moving, chairs were moving and drawers were being shuffled all about. Golding decided to leave this house too. With her maid.

“When Mrs. Golding’s maid had seen her safe to [the next house], she came back to Mrs. Pain, to help her to dress the children in the barn, where she had carried them for fear of the house falling. At this time all was quiet. They then went to [the house where Golding now was], and then began the same scene as had happened at the other places. It must be re-marked, all was quiet here as well as elsewhere, till the maid returned.”

People were suspicious at this point, but they let the maid stay. The hauntings continued enough for their host to give them the boot. Golding and her maid returned home, and the poltergeist went with them. As the madness continued, someone thought it a good idea for the maid to go bring back Mrs. Golding’s niece. While the maid was gone, all was quiet.

When the maid returned, she was fired. Nothing ever happened around Golding again.

This has been a very abridged version of the haunting. To read it in full – check this out.

The birth of any child is a wonderful thing… if of course, by ‘wonderful’, you actually mean ‘remarkably irritating’. See, when someone shunts a child from their middle, we’re supposed to treat it like some kind of miracle. Of course, no-one coos and fawns when someone brings a newborn foal into the office, still covered in amniotic gunk.

Childbirth isn’t any bigger or smarter than any other creature squirting out their shitting offspring. It’s dull and further proof that our future as humans is doomed as each baby grows up to be yet another alcopop drinking div in bad Asda George t-shirts.

When celebrities have babies growing in them, it is of even less relevance to us all, yet still we dribble enthusiastically, poised over our keys to tap out feigned glee to twitter accounts and Facebook fan pages. Victoria Beckham’s imminent idiot is one such example.

Rumours broke quicker than waters of a baby called Felicity being sawed out of Victoria Beckham who is still too vain to ruin her delicate lady garden by actually squeezing the thing out. However, it was all a massive lie.

Fact is, Posh Spice (she hates being called that doesn’t she? You can just tell) will NOT be giving birth her idiot daughter this week, a spokesperson has confirmed.

The spokesperson, already bored senseless by this babytalk but still maintaining a financial interest, stated:

“The rumours are rubbish, Victoria has not had the baby but she will be giving birth soon.”

In fact, it looks like the latest puking runt to be hoiked from a C-sectioned celebutwunt will grace our presence some time next week.

That’s just great isn’t it. We’ll get to see endless photographs of this baby… who looks like any other photoshopped baby… adorning hundreds of pages across various tedious magazines and newspapers.

It has been suggested that this Beckham Baby will be receiving media training before the umbilical tentacle is chopped and it will be taking questions at a press conference before it is a week old.

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When hecklerspray heard the news that Victoria and David Beckham were reportedly coming back to the UK,  we all got into the bath in our sticky bedsit and tried to drown each other.

When that didn’t work we even tried to self harm with the jaggy edge off our pot noodle sauce sachet but sadly that failed too and now we’re forced to apply plasters to our hurty bits and find a way to live with this awful news.

So far we’re pretty much sitting in stunned silence which is only broken by the sound of our editor screaming “OH CHRIST! OH JESUS CHRIST NO!!!” like Edward Woodward when his sedatives have worn off.

Apparently they’ve enrolled their kids in school over here already and are set to return when David finishes up his contract with LA Galaxy.

A source said:

‘They love Los Angeles and will always have a base there. But David’s contract will run out soon and they’ve started thinking about the future. He’s keen to finish his career at an English club if possible, though he hasn’t ruled out other options.’

The source also yawned:

‘Victoria is torn because she’s made so many friends in California and loves the lifestyle, but she misses her family in the UK a lot.’

That’s just selfish really.

She’s also planning to give her kid’s a ‘normal’ education, far away from all the disgustingly spoiled American children like Justin Bieber. How is she planning to do this? – she’s putting them into a private boys school in England which is no doubt full of spoiled British children who are just as annoyingly pretentious  but slightly pastier.

Great plan preggers.

This isn’t over yet.

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America – you had your chance. Had you more respect for the Presley name, had you not referred to her poor father as ‘Fat Elvis’ every three seconds, and perhaps if you hadn’t completely snubbed every single one of her musical attempts, Lisa Marie may have been content to stay within your borders forever.

But no – you all only reminded her that she didn’t have constant access to fish wrapped in newspaper, dreary gray skies or pictures of the queen staring back at her from the face of all the currency in her pocket.

So she’s up and moved to England – and it may or may not have more to do with Scientology than all that other stuff we wrote up there.

If Scientology is ever gonna catch on in England, then they should send a beautifully gorgeous representative to act as an emissary – gathering converts under her wings while she patiently explains the theologies of L. Ron Hubbard through her cherry red, voluptuous lips.

That or they could just send Lisa Marie Presley to live there for a while, threatening the locals that if they don’t join she’ll pull out her Michael Jackson & Nicolas Cage wedding albums. Were that the case – we’d join. Yes, joining is a far better alternative to that kind of pain. Unless she photoshopped a picture that looked like Cage & Jackson actually married each other.

We’d look at that pic long before we spelled our name in the Scientology ledger.

By the way – we actually don’t know that Presley was sent abroad by her church. All the sites talking about her move to the old country happen to mention she just bought a mansion near the Scientology center. Some of the sites say her reasons for moving are far, far dumber. Check out this one from the Daily Mail:

“It is understood constant gossip surrounding her ex-husband Michael Jackson helped form Presley’s decision to flee America.”

She moved to the UK to stop hearing people wonder aloud if MJ was buried with his nose? We were more impressed when we thought she went with the intention of getting the royal family under Hubbard’s thumb. If it worked – imagine the spaceships Scientology could build with royal donations.

We don’t think she moved to avoid Jackson-oriented conversations or to form a Scientological stronghold. We think she moved to get the heck away from her father’s ghost. After all, a woman can only take that kind of thing hovering over her twins’ cribs so many times.

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It’s Friday, friend. Relax.

Folded:

• Toy Story 3 (if you’re going to trust us on anything, trust us when we tell you how amazing this is)
• Wasting hours and hours riding about in Red Dead Redemption (horses are ace. Wonder if they make cheap pets..?)
• Toy Story meets The Wire (follow the money, Woody)
• England bashing: football (it’s a national pastime)
• The vuvuzela (annoying? Good, we specialise in that anyway)

Creased:

• Lily Allen and Professor Green’s cover of Dub Be Good To Me (or Lily Allen strutting up and down like a lost catwalk model for four minutes)
• Five a day fruit and veg (have you ever actually tried to do this? It’s impossible!)
• England bashing: oil (leave it out America. You practically drink the stuff out there)
• Visual glitches in Red Dead Redemption (shot a hundred feet up in the air for no reason yet? You will)
• No more Junior Apprentice (so no more of our esteemed weekly rundowns)

Across many towns and cities in England, anticipation for the first match of England’s World Cup campaign was building.

Taking advantage of the late kick off, English fans flocked to pubs to guzzle down warm beer and watch the two other games. Then it was time for business – the overpriced replica tops came off as excitement for the game grew. Shouts of “Ingurlund” could be heard for miles around.

Given the honour of broadcasting the game was ITV. Known for only receiving high ratings when X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent is on, this was a major coup for the broadcaster. Of course it would be paramount to ensure that everything went smoothly and without any technical glitches, wouldn’t it? You’d expect so but, in the age of the digital revolution, everything went tits up if you were watching in HD. Perhaps it was karma rewarding those who haven’t forked out thousands on technology they don’t need.

We’ve been led to believe that HD stands for High Definition. If you’ve ever wanted to see a droplet of human sweat drip off a footballer’s forehead, you now can thanks to the power of HD. But after last night’s cock up, it’s more Highly Disappointing than anything. For those who missed the moment when an advert interrupted Steven Gerrard’s fourth-minute goal, here you go:

At least we can say that the power of technology allows us to see the discarded orange peel in all its glory, so we know it works. However, it isn’t the first time that ITV have cut to adverts and ruined the enjoyment of people who want to see men run around in polyester shorts. Only last year, a match between Liverpool and Everton cut to an advert when a decisive goal was scored. In retrospect, that probably was a good thing. Who wants to see a stadium of Scousers with awful hair?

Unless you’re a Scottish/Irish/Welsh football fan who is sick to death of the hype surrounding England this will no doubt come as a massive laugh to those who support countries who are even worse at football than England. Naturally ITV released a statement about the situation before everone converted to rugby, or even worse, golf:

“A transmission problem temporarily affected ITV1′s HD service during the England/USA match.”

Even the chief of ITV was a bit narked off by the broadcast disturbance and called it “inexcusable”. You go Michael Grade, with stern words like that people will be nervous to come back to work, especially if you’re going to deliver those sorts of bollockings.

Annoyingly, ITV have the England v Algeria came that kicks off on June 18. The only thing that can worsen the match cutting to the adverts is the commentary being replaced with The One Show theme tune from ex-presenter Adrian Chiles.

Full match report – sort of – coming later today.

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Football: technically a funny old game. Made more so with ex-England football team manager Steve McClaren, in his new role at Dutch side FC Twente.

The man with a head that is home to a hair island and a face that wears a frighteningly creepy smile at all times has been spotted in the wild at his new job in the Netherlands, attempting to talk to the press.

Now, far be it from us to mock the man, but, well – we had enough ammo to go on before this, and now he’s just gone and set us up for life. He’ll never have to behave like a twit again, he’ll never have to do an awful job as England manager then blame it on everyone/thing else and he’ll never have to talk utter, utter tripe ever again.

Because this clip says everything about Steve McClaren you would ever want it to. The man is clearly deranged – there cannot be any other explanation for his decision to adopt such a stunning ‘Dutch’ accent. He actually sounds like your dad on holiday, trying to talk to a waiter who can only manage broken English.

Yet this is a man who has – presumably – had endless training on how to conduct himself in public, how to speak and how to behave. Obviously the training fell on deaf ears.

Ol’ Steve also seems oblivious to the fact that most Dutch people have a far more refined English vocabulary than most English people. Either that, or he thinks the woman interviewing him had just arrived from special school. Either way, he’s not helping himself.

Watch for yourselves:

Honestly. “ME. COME TO HOLLAND. VERY GOOD SIDE. CHAMPION AND IS LEAGUE. ARSE. NAL. LIVERPOOL. WE PLAY. MAYBE. WE SEE!”

He’s a loss to the English game, that’s for sure.

If there’s proof that footballers will sell themselves out for any sort of product, we’ve found it.

Part-time granny-lover and occasional striker for Manchester United and England, Wayne Rooney, has put pen to paper on a new £150,000 deal. Fortunately for Wayne, he’s not being paid to stay away from the finest pensioners that various brothels up and down the country have to offer, he’s instead going to try and concentrate on tucking into a portion of bread.

We mean with his teeth. Not his winky. You perverts.

What bread and Wayne Rooney have in common is beyond us, but somebody at the Hovis bakery seems to think it will help their slumping sales.

Maybe they’ve forgotten about the ferocious CREDIT CRUNCH, meaning people are simply buying less? In fact, they would be better off just trying to get Wayne to spend £150,000 on bread. But then again, he probably wouldn’t know what to do with all that yeasty goodness.

Using all the experience garnered from our Badvertising feature, we’ve thought of a few ways that bread and Wayne Rooney could be connected:

1) He could explain to children that his brain resembles the mush left over after dipping Hovis’ finest in a soft-boiled egg 152 times. As a result, he decided to get the world’s stupidest tattoo.

2) It could be some sort of crap football advert to encourage kids to get fitter and not shove pie and chips down their gullet at all hours of the day. Using his croaky voice he’ll utter: “Hey children, if you want to get ahead in life then use your loaf like me Wayne Rooney!” Following that speech – which would probably take around 10 hours of filming to get right – he’ll head a loaf of bread past a small child and make them cry.

3) Maybe it’s a subtle education drive to encourage people to attend school: “If you don’t visit the classroom, you’ll end up in a bread factory with the morons like Wayne Rooney.” That tagline alone is enough to scare children more than the Bogeyman, the monster under the bed and Michael Jackson.

See, we should become advertising executives.

Unfortunately, it appears that Hovis aren’t going down the same line of thinking as us when it comes to using the human equivalent of Shrek to sell their sandwich-creation tool. A source told the Daily Mirror:

“They want to revert to the more classic commercials for the traditionalists. With Wayne being a national icon, they can return to the iconic Hovis style, while still appealing to the younger generation. The new advert will be in the spirit of the 1973 Hovis ad – voted Britain’s favourite TV commercial – of a boy pushing a bike laden with Hovis loaves up a steep hill.”

Um…unless we’re mistaken, we always thought that the original Hovis advert was filmed in Yorkshire. So why they want to transform the famous cobbled streets of Yorkshire into the potholed streets of Liverpool, where he’ll just get his bike stolen, is beyond even hecklerspray.

It’s a travesty, we tell you! Just like when Opal Fruits changed to Starburst. The loveable voice of a Yorkshireman is set to be replaced by the screechings of a Scouser. If he had an angelic voice, we wouldn’t mind.

But at the best of times, it’s hard to understand what he says, and it usually sounds like he’s going to break your kneecaps when you can hear him.

“If it ain’t from Yorkshire, it’s rubbish,” is a common utterance of local Yorkshire types. We presume this phrase will take on a new lease of life when the advert airs. If Wayne can get his lines right, that is.

Don’t hold your breath.

If Morrissey ever gave up music, he could easily forge a second career as the sort of Telegraph-reading, wobbly-jowled splutterer who sits in the Question Time audience all night just so he can make one disparaging remark about the Polish.

Because, 17 years after he almost fatally wounded his career by jigging about in front of several National Front members wrapped in a Union Jack, Morrissey seems to be at it again. Apparently Morrissey has used an NME interview to tell the world how much he hates immigrants and how "England is a memory now." Quite why Morrissey would want to stir up such a political hornet's nest in the first place is beyond us, although we suspect that Morrissey is simply playing the shock anti-immigration card to promote his pensioner-targeted new album Is It Me Or Are Policemen Getting Younger? and its lead single I'll Put A Bloody Knife Through That Ball If It Comes Over My Fence Again.

For the simple reason that he's managed to release two solo albums in a row that weren't so awful that we wanted to saw our ears off – which we think is a first for him – Morrissey seems to have forgotten why people went off him in the first place.

That reason, if you needed reminding, was that Morrissey went a little bit doolally in the early 1990s and started writing songs like The National Front Disco, We'll Let You Know, Bengali In Platforms and Asian Rut, then danced in front of some skinheads in Finsbury Park with a Union Jack wrapped around him in a way that some people say was deliberately stoking racial divides. Plus he was wearing a gold shirt that was just horrible.

From then on, fewer people bought Morrissey's albums because it looked like he was a bit of a racist – and that's the way it stayed until the NME started interviewing Morrissey again and he was fairly contrite about the whole racism thing. Since then, Morrissey has done well to keep his opinions to himself, only allowing the occasional embarrassing dad statement about the FBI or animal testing to slip out in between releasing his mediocre singles. 

But now? Now Morrissey has decided to speak out about immigrants. Specifically how shit they all are. Whoops. Morrissey told the NME:

"England is a memory now. The gates are flooded and anybody can have access to England and join in. Although I don't have anything against people from other countries, the higher the influx into England the more the British identity disappears. So the price is enormous. Travel to England and you have no idea where you are. It matters because the British identity is very attractive. I grew up into it and I find it very quaint and amusing. Other countries have held on to their basic identity, yet it seems to me that England was thrown away. You can't say, 'Everybody come into my house, sit on the bed, have what you like, do what you like.' It wouldn't work."

However, Morrissey is now claiming that the whole interview was a "hatchet job" and is threatening the NME with lawsuits and whatnot. So maybe Morrissey was misquoted, and he was actually talking about his literal house and using England as a metaphor for his downstairs toilet or something. We just don't know.

It's worth remembering, though, that Morrissey knows a lot a lot about immigration because he is one. Right now Morrissey lives in Rome and before that he lived in Los Angeles. So perhaps Morrissey isn't completely racist and anti-immigration, but he's just doing that ridiculous ex-pat thing where you spend a few months living abroad listening to nothing but The Kinks and Blur, slowly convincing yourself that England is a quaint little picture postcard of a ruddy vicar cycling along a country lane to umpire a village cricket match, and then getting a bit pissed off when a hoody happyslaps you for your chips a day after you return.

Either way, racist or not, we're starting to see why Morrissey wasn't allowed to do Eurovision this year – we can't imagine that the sight of a middle-aged bloke with a quiff singing a song called Push Your Knysza Up Your Arse You Polish Tit would have gone down particularly well in mainland Europe.

Read more:

Morrissey blames immigration for 'disappearance' of British identity – Independent