I'd rather have my balls massaged with a handful of sharded glass.
Gordon Brown is on television, all impressive combover and blame-apportioning.
George Pascal Watson of The Sun has just asked him if he has any words of encouragement for Jade Goody?
Brown wishes her well and knows that the whole country will be worried and anxious about her health. Not the economy. Not the noises coming from North Korea. Not the fact that one of his stealthy little submarines bumped uglies with the French (alors!).
I can feel it coming. The public wailing. The live coverage of the funeral. The comparisons with Diana. The tributes from Davina McFuckingCall. From Graham Norton. The endless repetitions of her best moments on E4 and Living TV. The appearance of her new husband on Celebrity Big Brother. The OK! magazine interview with Shilpa Shitty Sic. The posthumous doctorates!
She'll get them all.
Her primary achievement? Sitting in a garden, shouting. Twice.
I feel unusual. I think I should go outside.