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Five museums I'm banned from and why, by Kim Kardashian

AS a globe-trotting celebrity megastar, one of my passions is local museums. But here are just five examples where my visit has resulted in a lifetime ban from the assholes that run the place.

The Louvre

I love Paris. The arrogance, the smoking, the dog shit. I don’t like The Louvre though. Long story short, I tried to get a selfie with the Mona Lisa but didn’t like the lighting in that part of the gallery. So I had my security team take the painting down for just a minute. No biggie. 

Well, the douchebags there all started screaming and within a few seconds I’d had my incredible ass kicked right out onto the Rue de Rivoli. Didn’t even get to browse the gift shop. I tried to DM Leonardo da Vinci to speak to the boss man, but I don’t think he’s on Instagram. Weird.

The Natural History Museum

I love London but don’t even get me started on those jerk-offs from the Natural History Museum. I hired out the entire place for a sleepover with my maladjusted kids and extended family. North and Psalm loved the bird foetuses in jars. They’re like little aliens. But the staff were so rude! 

All Kanye did was dismantle some dinosaur bones and play them like a xylophone like he’d seen in The Flintstones and they went ballistic. I mean, how valuable can bones be? They found them in the ground. Covered in dirt. Stupid zoologists.  

Derwent Pencil Museum

I love Keswick. The geology, the Sunday market, the steak pie at The Bank Tavern. Everything except the f**king Derwent Pencil Museum. Our visit was going well, we coughed up the £4.95 entry fee, but when I mentioned the Germans were mass-producing pencils in Nuremberg as early as the 1660s, the curator, Alan, got quite aggressive. 

Ranting about how Cumbria’s proud history of graphite mining dated back to 1550, he called me a ‘typical, ignorant Yank’. Then when we asked for the free wifi code and tried to order 12 chai lattes from the coffee counter he made it clear he wanted us to leave. Two words, Alan: customer service. Asshole.

The Icelandic Phallological Museum

Once, our private jet had to stop and refuel in Reykjavik. So the whole Kardashian clan visited this charming museum. Don’t worry – we left the kids outside with the nannies. What a place. Just like my dating history it features a huge bunch of dicks. All shapes and sizes, from tiny peckers to bull penises to big, old whale schlongs. It really is very educational. 

The problem arose when I accidentally snapped a walrus dick off while demonstrating what I’d like to do to that cheating asshole Kanye. Boy, did they overreact in Icelandish! Chill, guys, the walrus was dead anyway and I offered to glue it back on.

Madame Tussauds

Yes, I understand it’s not strictly a ‘museum’. But where else do you get to hang out with Beyonce, Barack Obama and The Rock in one afternoon? Normally I’d have to text them all individually and see what their schedules were looking like.

To me everything screamed celebrity glamour –  the Queen, the Beckhams, Nelson Mandela. So imagine my horror when I discovered my own waxwork and the perverts had made me look like some kind of artificial sex doll. I demanded it was melted down on the spot and caused a bit of a scene. So me and my spectacular ass aren’t welcome there anymore. Their loss.

A bit of rain on my barbecue won't tip me over the edge this time! By Colin the emotionally unstable chef

RAIN can put a real damper on a barbecue – pun intended! Here’s how to stop a sudden downpour causing you to have a slight mental breakdown and do A Very Bad Thing.

Try something different with your barbecue

First, plan a wonderful barbecue as usual. Sure, you’ll have to serve the usual burgers and hotdogs, but also try a show-stopper like a whole leg of lamb marinated in lemon juice, paprika and sumac.

Or try an oriental take on coleslaw with fish sauce and lime juice. But don’t put yourself under so much pressure you go batshit loony. That’s quite an important barbecue tip.

Have plenty of lids ready

Obvious really, but if it starts to rain, have something to cover your potato salad etc. Invest in a barbecue with a lid, and a sheet of plastic is handy for quickly covering a whole table of food. It’s funny to think I spent years training to be a cordon bleu chef but these days I’m trying to stop burger buns going soggy.

Looking back, I think it was negative thoughts like these that set me on the path to The Very Bad Thing.

Keep an eye on the weather forecast 

Try not to get caught out by it suddenly pissing with rain, like I did last summer. Countless items of food and hours of preparation down the f**king toilet and you’ll feel like crying or punching someone, or worse.

Have the oven ready 

Here’s a neat tip – leave the oven on a low heat, then if it rains you can whack it up and quickly be finishing off chicken drumsticks and kebabs while you do hotdogs and burgers under the grill. 

Just be prepared for a horde of guests all pestering at the same time for their burger like noisy, drooling, stinking pigs who want to cram their maws with as much free food as possible. Try to keep calm, even if you start getting the ‘red mist’.

Salvage what you can

It shouldn’t come to this if you’ve followed the tips above, but you can still keep the drinks flowing and cook food that isn’t waterlogged in the kitchen. Be aware some guests will fail to appreciate all the stress and hard work. Guests like Steve, who on that occasion said: ‘Have you got a normal Birds Eye burger? All this poncey food gives me the shits.’

Avoid doing A Very Bad Thing

What you definitely shouldn’t do at this point is hogtie Steve with tea towels as your horrified guests look on. Then don’t attempt to manhandle Steve onto the barbecue and cook him, all the while shouting strange comments such as: ‘What’s going on the barbecue next? You, Steve, you PHILISTINE SACK OF SHIT! Get ready to find out HOW JOAN OF ARC FELT!’

Luckily the other guests restrained me while I was giving Steve a honey and soy glaze, so he didn’t get even slight grilled. And the police couldn’t be arsed to take it any further, thank God.

Final tip: don’t have a barbecue at all

This is far and away the best method for preventing barbecue disasters. Now I encourage guests to bring a microwave meal, and we heat them up one by one while forming an orderly queue. It’s dull but you won’t worry about rain, attempted cannibalism or whether the chicken drumsticks are cooked all the way through.

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