Guest Blog: Chris Moyles

GETTING up at some horrible time of the day to do the show is rubbish, especially when you’ve been out on the pop all night. Last night was no exception – blimey, if I had a quid for every pint I drank, I’d be even richer than the rich man I already am (thanks licence payers!). It was a pretty heavy session – I was hanging out with a few pals of mine, you know, Pete Doherty – lovely bloke, Kate Moss – top lass, and some hangers on from Big Brother.

Speaking of whom, where do these famous-for-15 minutes nobodies get off thinking they can simply turn up and hang out with proper legends like myself, Noel G, Chris Martin and that bird who’s in Holloyoaks with the big tits whose name I can never remember? I’m sick of the whole reality TV / celeb thing, which is why I’ve introduced a rule whereby we only spend 75% of the show talking about it – otherwise there’s a real danger that it’ll become really boring.

I was taking my daily constitutional the other day, when I bumped into some pals of mine – you might know them, they’re called The Arctic Monkeys. Anyway, they asked me if I wanted to go to the pub, to which I said ‘ look, I’ve just popped out for a loaf of bread’, but me being a bit of an alky, I couldn’t resist. Talk about big mistake – one-and-a-quarter hours later and I was still in the boozer, drinking lager and having a whale of a time with my pals The Arctic Monkeys. Just as I was about to take my leave from this marathon session, in walks me old mucker, Liam (Gallagher), who swaggers up to me and says 'alright lardy, mine's a fuckin' pint'. If this wasn’t bad enough, my attention was drawn by someone giving me a playful crack on the head. 'Ow!' I said, as I turned round – would you believe it, it was James Last and his Orchestra, who were all in for a pint after a morning of rehearsals. I really love James’ music, I think it’s dead cool – in a really ironic way, of course. I had him on the show once with Bobby Davro, and Brucie. It was dead cheesy and funny – but sort of clever in a conceited way.

Today’s show was brilliant – we had a couple of top guests on in the shape of The Chuckle Brothers, who were dead good in a kind of – ‘you two are crap, and I’m going to take this piss out of you because you’re an easy target’ – sort of way. Tomorrow’s guest should be even easier to lampoon – I’ve managed to contact the rubbish bloke from Three of A Kind, David Copperfield, and he’s agreed to come in and have a chat. Little does he know what myself and Comedy Dave have got in store for him ! I must admit that sometimes it may seem a little harsh to take the mick out of people like him, but from my point of view it’s a no-brainer: Get Gordon Brown on the show – that’s not funny; get Johnny Wilkinson on the show – that’s not funny, get the Mighty Boosh on the show – that’s not funny. Get a washed-up eighties celeb on the show. Now that’s funny.

Popped into my local tonight for a quick drink, and a play on the quiz machine. Bad move. Question came up on the screen – ‘Who Directed The 1972 Hit Movie, The French Connection ?’, and I was just about to press ‘A’ , ‘Robert Zemeckis ‘, when a hand comes through the crook of my arm and presses ‘C’ ‘William Friedkin’ – good job it was correct ! I turned around to thank whoever it was, and to my surprise it was my old mucker and Hollywood legend, Gene Hackman – how ironic was that !? So we pulled up a couple of chairs and had a chat. I told him we had David Copperfield in as a guest that morning, which he loved “ Not that crackerass – he always was, and always will be a goddamn sonofabitch. “, he chuckled to himself as he drained the remnants from his bottle of Appletise.

Just at that moment, Gene gets a call on his mobile. After he takes the call, he says to me “Hey, fatass – you wanna come and have a curry – all your buddies will be there: The Kaiser Chiefs, Mika, Barry Davies, Amy Winehouse, Jimmy Carr, Peter Fonda, Jim Morrison, ‘H’ from Steps, Catherine Deneuve, Brian Cant, Louis Armstrong, the guy from The Magnificent Seven who no-one can remember, Jeremy Thorpe, Rip Torn, Fred Housego, Ian Woosnam, Nancy Spungen." I paused for thought – ‘is Denis Hopper going to be there ?’, Gene leant over and barked in my ear "That asshole – screw him!". So I drank my pint down and followed Gene to the Star of Bengal. It was gonna be a mental one!

Drinking Boiled Twigs Will Not Cure Cancer, Say Docs

BOILING up a bag of foul smelling old twigs sold to you by a man who has no medical knowledge will not cure you of cancer, a shock new report claims today.

Applying a poultice of mashed up leaves to yourself after a horrendous car crash is also unlikely to lead to a rapid and sustained recovery from your terrible injuries.

However, handing over huge sums of money to a plausible individual in a white coat for a bit of bark in a jar is certain to cure herbalists of their lack of an indoor pool, the report added.

Dr Wayne Hayes, chief herbalist at Hayes Herbals, said he was astounded at the claims that twigs did not have incredible healing powers after all.

He said: “If I was not already in a wheelchair after having both my legs amputated following a nasty bout of Necrotising Fasciitis which, incidentally, I controlled with two aniseed balls and a cup of Silver Birch tea, I would go round and see whoever wrote this report and give them a good kicking.

“To suggest that boiled twigs are not the most effective treatment against cancer flies in the face of thousands of years of medical knowledge. The next thing they will say is that homeopathy is a load of old rubbish which defies the laws of physics.”

Gladys Tazer, 86, said her husband Ron had benefited hugely from his treatment at Hayes Herbals after he sought Dr Hayes’ advice on an ingrowing toe-nail.

She said: “Wayne was so helpful. He even gave Ron a lift to the building society in his Jag when we did not have enough money in the house to pay for his treatment.

“I know Ron would have been dead in weeks if Wayne had not treated him. But thanks to Wayne and his wonder twigs, Ron and I gained a few extra precious months together, marred only slightly by his constant vomiting.”