I have become a veritable fountain of ideas for numerous celebrity fronted television shows as of late. Below are a few of my most recent brain farts, and quite possibly the best ideas that any human has ever devised. As of this moment many agents and production companies are remaining fashionably tight-lipped and non-committal to my suggestions, as agents and the like so often do. I would assume that they are considering my offers very seriously. Their silence speaks volumes.
Show title – GREG WALLACE – DEEPTHROAT.
Synopsis: John Torode’s echo tries to deep throat a selection of various sized spoons, in his quest for cutlery asphyxiation.
Show title – MICHAEL BALL’S HOLE IN THE WALL.
Synopsis: Curly-permed, theatrical warbler Michael Ball, visits assorted truck-stop restrooms in America’s deep south. The game will involve Michael willingly participating, in a game of glory hole roulette. Michael will kneel in front of renowned restroom, glory holes, with his mouth wide open as he sings a selection of his favourite songs from the West End musicals. If Michael can visit five different sites and perform without being interrupted, he wins £1000 for the charity of his choice. Each five songs he manages to sing interrupted the prize money will treble. There will be an optional, interactive tonsil-cam, available on the red button.
Show title – DICK, VAN, DYKE
Synopsis: John McCririck and Clare Balding travel around Northern Ireland in a campervan, in search of Shergar’s remains.
Show title – WHO THE F**K DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??
Synopsis: This new series (with no relation to the ancestry hunting show) invites Z-list TV personalities to face up to the person they have insulted/slighted, in the press.
In the first episode sports pundit John Inverdale faces current women’s Wimbledon champion, Marion Bartoli.
Miss Bartoli opens her line of questioning by quoting the personalities name and the title of the show, for example “John Inverdale, Who the f**k do you think you are?”
The personality will reply to this opening question by stating their name, and then by stating why they think they were invited to be on the show. For example, “ I’m John Inverdale, Television and Radio commentator/presenter, and I recently made some crass remarks about your appearance”.
Miss Bartoli will start by asking him what relevance her appearance has to the sport she is playing. She will point out that Inverdale himself has a face predominately suited to radio and looks like a drunken toddlers rendering, of a man, in pencil. She will also point out that he is also completely devoid of neck, and that his head appears to be sprouting from somewhere in between his nipples. After she has likened him to the offspring of Mark (thatched haired football pundit) Lawrenson and an Easter Island head, he will be forced by security to drop his slacks and display his flaccid penis. Former female, Wimbledon champions will then be invited into the studio to aggressively surround John, and point and laugh at his tiny flap of penal skin, as the titles roll.
Show title – BEAR GRYLLS – RUSH HOUR SURVIVOR.
Synopsis: Survival expert Bear Grylls and owner of the most ridiculous name since the footballer ‘Ricky Van Wolfswinkel’, attempts the rush hour commute on the London Underground. In this show Bear must travel from West London’s Gloucester Road to Essex’s hotbed of celebrity thicko’s, Loughton. Armed with only his cunning, an Oyster card and a copy of the free paper ‘Metro’, our intrepid adventurer takes on the most grueling journey of his life. Watch in awe as he fashions a seat on a packed train, by using a city boy’s spleen. Be amazed as Bear re-hydrates in the unbearable temperatures by licking the moist armpit of an overweight postal worker. Bear’s resourcefulness is tested to the limit as he fends off an unwanted carriage pest, known as a ‘beggar’, with only his erect penis and the mating call of a Yak. Will Bear have met his match when a heard of Westfield shoppers block the sliding doors at Stratford?
Follow-up show – BEAR GOES WILD
Bear infiltrates a nudist colony in North Wales with only a coconut and a family-sized, tube of lube for protection.
Miserable Musing. 