Columnists

With Peter AllissOOOH dear, he's come up short again. Reminds me of the late, great Snuffy Edwards back in '53. He had just played his approach to the 12th at Carnoustie, when all of a sudden - zap! - he's vaporised by a lightning strike. He was, of course, disqualified for failing to sign his card. I suppose these days they'd have let him off...

By Karen FenesseyBECAUSE I am so close to God, many people assume I am a prudish bore. But, I hate to break this to you: I am the princess of passion, the queen of copulation and the duchess of penis! Consequently, I think it is deplorable that a man can be put on trial over the outfits he chooses to wear while he is getting down.

I WERE sitting in Star of Bengal with Goughie, Warney and some other bloke who we ain't given nick-name to yet, when mobile goes off. It were chairman of selectors like, who said I'd made provisional England squad of 125. Time for a celebration, so it's lagers all round, and chilli eating competition: first one to collapse with anaphylactic shock's a big poof.

MY BBC producer rang me early. He wants me to come in and say a few words about Andy Murray. "Let's play up the angle that you two have a lot in common, what with the fiery temperament and all".  I told him that apart from having two arms and a dick, we've got jack shit in common, and if he wakes me again, I'll take a piss on his shoes.

Despatches from Poppy SpaldingMonday: Sydney, AustraliaMy first week on the road finds me in Sydney, which is a bit like London, only with more sun and fewer Australians.

MY preparation for Wimbledon hasn’t been ideal. I was forced to pull out of the Sandwich Spread Classic in Margate due to sore eyelids and then, to make matters worse, I bruised my knuckles punching a wall after my brother Jamie beat me at Swingball.

By Mervyn King, Governor of the Bank of England Dear Chancellor of the Cocking Exchequer, As if I did not already have enough on my plate clearing up all your other shit, you now expect me to bend over so you can stick it right up me in public, like some tit-knobbing arse jockey, just because a loaf of bread now costs a clitting fiver. Well try publishing this, fuck-button.

    Ooo-o-o-o-oooooh ! Your temperature was up a bit    So I just called NHS Direct     They said it’s probably a 24-hour thing    And that you should take a Nurofen and stay--yeee--yayyy in bed     Whoooahhhh! Ooooohhhh ! I also told them I have a gaping wound in my     so-o-o-o-oul, er, as well as a dull pain in my lower b-a-a-ck. 

By Karen FenesseyI’m sure many people have bad days at work but I guarantee no one has suffered the catalogue of errors that took place in my classroom yesterday. This is what happens when you take a stand against the most disgusting people in our society: RACISTS! Also, I may need an eye test.

By Karen FenesseyIn the hard work I do for Britain's primary schools, I battle with complicated class registers on a daily basis. But within the education system, there exists a sub-division who are more familiar with a different kind of register. I refer, of course, to 'art' teachers.