Sink or Swim with Pay-offs and Pastry as we get up to our necks in Custard

By Jove Missus, how very un-tattifilarious I am!

Yes, like the rest of the Custard company staff, I have been told that I am no longer required to provide my illustrious guide after December 31st.

I have tried to explain that this is a guide to Liverpool and that although the by-line is Capital of Custard 2008, that there may be a legacy role for me in 2009.

The only role for you, they said, is a sausage roll.

Well I suppose they have to find something to do with the 2 million provided by Sayers sponsorship in kind. I bet it wasn’t half a million-sausage rolls that they gave to Mr Hasitall. Mind you, they could have tricked him with that; he couldn’t have eaten them with the gagging clause! Why do they never ask my advice first?

What a cheek though, trying to make me redundant, after all I have done to promote this year!

Anyway dear readers, I offer my apologies to you both for my recent absence. I have been locked in negotiations with Mr Stilton and Bradlow to negotiate a proper pay-off. £30 quid and a 2-minute DVD of the highlights was their last offer. “Hasitall has cleaned us out,” they said.

They claim they are skint and there is nothing left for the closing ceremony.

Well I found three bob down the sofa in Stilton’s office when they nipped outside for a Peroni to discuss my future. So I’m having that, by Jove yes!

Now “Honorary” Professor Rednose is said to have pulled the plug on the closing semolina event, although he may still be able to knock together a Sinbad and Jimmy Corkscrew Karaoke session outside Yates’s. He is of course closely connected to the stars of numerous cancelled shows, as well as being Patron of the Frodsham wind ensemble, so I hear. Yes there appeared to be a definite whiff of them during his recent speech.

I’ve told them to just leave the closing ceremony to me and the Sir Diddy’s men, we can cabal something together. I have a spectacular event all ready to go. Very simple and very cheap.

I will place a large inflatable Lambanana in all of the major city buildings, The Town Hall, St Georges Hall, The Municipal Buildings and both Cathedrals. Then we shall fill the buildings with custard. As the devices are inflated the custard will ooze from the windows and fill the streets of Liverpool for the people to engage in a custard festival, like the one they do with tomatoes in Preston or wherever it is, (somewhere foreign).

The metropolitan cathedral will be the finale - no offence to the C 0f E, as this is dictated by the architecture, not the Pope, even if he does love a bit on his rhubarb - custard will burst like a volcano from the wig-wam funnel roof in a great yellow cascade, running down Brownlow Hill to form a giant lake in the town centre. Souvenir spoons will be available from the car boot of my good friend Mr Harbottle, so everybody can dig-in.

Yes I will invite Mr Harbottle back and with a bit of luck he can hand over the envelope to Wally and Dickie Mint with the outcome of the standards board investigation.

The Lambananas will then burst through each roof and rise above the city. Now, here is the clever bit, at the stroke of midnight, the they will explode releasing clouds of nitrous oxide onto the crowds below (laughing gas to you missus, I have tons of it given to me by Tarbuck) and as it begins to take effect, a photographer from the Oldham Chronic will take a picture of all the smiling and laughing faces, heralding the event a huge success.

As they all become unconscious, the 08 ambassadors secret mission will be put into action as they lift every wallet, purse and any jewellery - that isn’t out of the catalogue - from the sleeping crowd. This will be used to plug the deficit! An inspired plan, I am sure you will agree.

I am just waiting for Sir Rex Hesperus to cast a legal eye over it, just in case the gas is too strong and injuries result. It wouldn’t be so bad if everybody carried a Clack Donor Card but we don’t want to end up with severe clack injury and thousands in hospital on a ventittilator.

Speaking of inspired plans, missus, I have been clearing out my drawers recently and discovered a copy of an early suggestion for a 2008 event, posted directly to the Custard company from Hollywood no less!

Inspired by the Capital of Custard award Mel Brookside the well known director of Blazing Squabbles, came up with yet another vehicle for The Producers especially for 2008, but it has just gathered dust in the 08 place
Reading it again this week, I am not sure somebody didn’t lift a few ideas from it without giving him credit. Here is part of it.

Synopsis “The Produseless”
Nervous accountant Leo Blowsitall enters the office of Max Biallystorey to go through the accounts after another financial disaster costing the Municipal Theatre millions. Leo suddenly realises that you could actually make more money out of a sure fire flop than you could from a success and earn yourself huge pay-offs. So the stage is set to create a Capital of Culture fiasco. http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=3ERAV57bqaU

The first thing they need is the worst event programme ever produced.
In a downtrodden Sydney apartment, they find Rubin Archsnits, with her cabaret extravaganza “ Springtime For Stilton” a musical play about the life and times of

Der Cuerhverhauptman Adull Hilton. The script is a complete stinker and they buy it off of her for £340k.

Just to make sure it will flop, they also need the worst director they can find, so they go backstage at the Chorley rep to meet Jessie Harbolero, who enters wearing a bright orange Flamenco dress. Harbolero, agrees to take the job on condition he can sell the T-shirts and ice cream during the interval and spend 3 days a week rehearsing in Spain.

They interview for a leading man to open the show and are delighted to find that one time tank engine commander Bongo Starr is available and desperate to plug his new album, “Liverpool Hate” He can’t sing, he can’t play anything, he can’t wait to get out of Liverpool; They have found their man!

As the opening night arrives and the curtain goes up, they watch as the assembled audience gasp in horror at what they see as the chorus line begins the opening number .

Springtime for Hilton and Liverpool
Winter for you, you poor sap

Financially we’re off the rails
We’re spending with no audit trails

Springtime for jobs if you’re southerners
You wont have to take the rap

Springtime for Hilton and Liverpooooooooool
Where failure’s rewarded by being awarded
Huge pay-offs for being so crap.

Springtime for Hilton and - Don’t be stoopid be a smarty come and join our lib-dum party

Winter for you, you poor - Forced out Jason, stitched up Forde, whoops here comes the Standards Board. Etc.

Delighted by their failure, they retreat to the bar to start working out how big a pay-off each can get. In the meantime the curtain opens for act two and some Lambananas parade onto the stage, followed by a giant spider.

The audience begin to smile and identify with them. Max and the custard company had of course initially taken no interest in the Lambananas and had even talked about writing out the spider due to costs.

The audience pour into the bar, they want to save the Lambananas, they love them, they want to keep the spider, ok most of the rest is crap but there have been some good bits, and in spite of the general incompetence, millions spent and wasted or unaccounted for and the huge deficit, that is the real legacy, this has actually been quite successful. Imagine what it could have been like with competent leaders?

Our heroes shrink in horror.

“We got the wrong programme to start with, the wrong director the wrong leading man…where did we go right?”

“No way out - No way out!”

Cut to our heroes in prison singing “ Prisoners of custard, we all got busted”
Curtain Falls.

Hmmm. Perhaps they were right not to use it. Too far fetched. As we know, they did all get their pay-offs. Well apart from the people who will just get redundancy notices, the ones on the front line of the Custard Company who did the real work, that saved us from total disaster. Oh no sorry, I forgot, it was all thanks to the Custard Supreme, Professor Rednose. I do apologise. My word, a slip like that could cause a scouse divorce - fingers crossed.

But ladies and gentlemen what of the legacy, what can we do to keep the momentum going in 2009?

Well one thing right on our doorstep is the potential for a major new tourist attraction, far better than Williamson’s Tunnels. It appears that there are miles and miles of unexplored apartments right in the heart of the city.

They haven’t been touched or opened up since the day they were constructed by eccentric developers who wanted offer gainful employment to thousands of Cockneys, Geordies, Mancunians and Poles. If we can just persuade the liquidators to open them up to the public I am sure many thousands would come to marvel at how and why they were built.

I used to have a penthouse you know. Unfortunately, the cleaner found it under the bed and showed it to the missus. I only kept it for the article on the Austin Healey gearbox and what to do if your big end keeps going.

Well whatever happens, if they don’t want me after December, I may take up the offer from Editor of the Oldham Echo Mr Alistair Zeta MacShag. He wants me to liven–up the obituaries column and give it a scouse flavour.

I have already suggested re-naming it the Brown-bread Section and Birthday Memoriam to be called, “Well at least I don’t have to buy a pressie”

But between you and me, I am in discussions with Sir Rex, Joe Roley, Laurence of Westphalia, Tom “who did that?” Dowling and Dave Printface, amongst others, to establish a rival evening newspaper that is truly loyal to the people of the city, written and printed in Liverpool, that will creates jobs in the city rather than redundancies for the sake of the Unholy Trinity's profits.

We already have the new title - The Liverpool Echo Cabal - which has a familiar ring to it. Anyway we are looking for a Head of Finance, a Cultural Editor and a Communications Director to complete the winning team.

We have also secured the publishing rights to the popular cartoon strip
“Our Wally” Although it may only be until the end of 2008, after which Andy Capps missus, Flo, may be the new cartoon feature.

How much to Oldham Catherine?


Tatty bye everybody, Tatty bye.

THE END OF THE BLOGGINING: THE BLOATED VENDETTA WHALE, HMS LISTING BADLY, AND THE POUNDS CAST AWAY.....

By Jove, Mrs Chucklebutty is furious.
I had promised her that today I would be announcing my retirement and we would move to our villa in Spain, next door to the Harbottles, but looks like hacienda that…for now!
I have to apologise that in my Election Special I issued the Mayday call, that we were abandoned at sea and surrounded by Sharks and Jellyfish.
My warning was not sufficient. I was unaware that the treacherous waters of the Mersey also contained a hidden menace.
Yes at the last minute just when the many vulnerable and forgotten people thought the lifeboat had reached them and had begun to cheer their imminent salvation from the stagnant slurry that has contaminated our blessed waters for almost 10 years, a great blubber whale broke the surface of foaming slime and swallowed the hopes of thousands in one sickening and orchestrated gulp.
The Bloated Vendetta Whale, clearly attracted by a pool of plankton and the nearby sinking ship, Listing Bradley, was harpooned and dragged on board by the discredited Captain, only to have its carcass rammed into the rotten bulkhead (as the Captain is known by many of his crew) to keep the wreck afloat for a little longer.
Although whaling is internationally frowned upon (where was Greenpeace?) this sad and pathetic creature was used by the ship of lost souls to keep their hopelessly lost vessel upright.
Whilst the callous crew briefly pat its head and feed its ego, it will soon be left below the water line to slowly rot.
Sadly that is the truth of whaling in today’s waters, where just enough flesh is taken from the dim witted creature to cover an area the size of one seat and the rest of the blubber - and even the meat head - is left to decompose or will eventually be thrown back to the into the water where it may be devoured by those who placed it there.
So how long before the next rescue ship?
Captain Bradlow's crew are already plotting mutiny. Fletcher Clein (have I ever mentioned it’s German for Diddy? Yes, I may have) has already announced that the Captain has to be thrown overboard before the entire crew perishes.
Who knows what new direction Admiral Stilton would have taken had the so-called Flagshit of the Glib Dum Navy sunk without trace.
Maybe a mutiny will go some way towards swabbing the putrid decks or more likely, it may delay ridding us of what has become a poison where the antidote is still being developed and in need of further tests.
But Shipmates, we will all drown if we do not continue to battle against the waves.
All that the Captain has really achieved in harpooning the whale is, as they say in nautical terms, “15 tons on a dead mans chest, yo ho ho and a battered glib dum.”
Now before any anonymous soul comments about insensitivity - such as that made about Mr Gleeson and tells me: “when you compared Lardia Stewpid to a bloated whale, where you aware of the fact that she had actually lost the ability to get her fat arse to a constituency meeting, select committee or ward surgery? If so it was insensitive, insulting and below the standards……” etc, etc, etc.
Well, yes missus, I was fully aware that there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken shop and a Sayers and a Chippy between Stupid's home and the nearest meeting room.
And of course I openly admit that both Mrs Chucklebutty and I are no strangers to pastry and on this occasion I have gone for the easy target of Orca Steward being a little on the portly side.
But then I am following the example of her new found, short-term friends, who also like to go for the easy targets, such as those people who are being thrown out of their day care centres to finance incompetence and pay-off idiots and failures!
“Steady on Chucklebutty, you are starting to sound like the Tony’s!”
I know, I know - but nothing wrong with that! And frankly this has got my gander up, and I am worried she will eat it.
This is not the end and not even the blogginning of the end.
But it is the end of the blogginning.
We must fight them on the benches! (As soon as they announce the winning entry.)
Blog, Sweat and eventual Cheers!
Iron the curtains….sorry that’s a note from Mrs Chucklebutty.
Finally, for those of you who are still unaware of the finale results for the Glib Dums, I print them below.

Lib Dem Results Liverpool

The total pounds cast away are as follows

JOHNSTON, Kevin
FAILED CHIEF OPERATIONS OFFICER, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £50,000 Forgotten Party (No change)
HENSHAW, Sir Diddy
FAILED CHIEF EXECUTIVE, LIVERPOOL CITY COUNCIL AND LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £360,000 By Jove Party (Personal Gain)
ARCHER, Robyn
FAILED CREATIVE DIRECTOR, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £375,000 Skippy the Cash Kangaroo (Held)
GREEN,Chris
FAILED CHIEF OPERATIONS OFFICER, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £50,000 No Street Party (Ran)
HARBOTTLE, Jason
FAILED CHIEF EXECUTIVE, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £250,000 Huge leaving party (Not invited)
DICKINSON, Lorna
FAILED CONSULTANT £45,000 A Stunned Fish called Squander party (wet)

As returning officer for the above constituency of Grotty Cash…(where’s my additional £24k?) I declare that from the total cash trashed, the loser is, the people of Liverpool!

Tatty Abide With Me Everybody, Tatty Bye

Prof Chucklebutty on Phil Rednose, MeCogloose, ....Justin Rattlesnake, the Nowhere Man and....It's Been a Hard Days Knight for Sir Diddy!

By Jude Missus,
I mean By Jove, you’ve guessed it, Sir Diddy to the Rescue!
Once again my expertise has been called upon, because I am of course an expert on most things known to man and several things kept quiet from the wife.
Yes, they need me to get the McCartney concert at Anfield back on track before Grotty Cash faces yet another Meryl Streep Festival style PR disaster.
Yet again ladies and gentlemen, the clock is ticking and it all has to be ready to pop and roll by June, by Jove!
What have the Custard company been doing, I asked myself?
How could they possibly be in such a situation with only weeks to go and not a single arrangement made, other than having sold tickets to an event that isn’t organised and with no line up of performers bar one and he isn’t too keen?
What kind of idiots could have let this happen I thought?
So I immediately called a full meeting of the Custard Company, took one look at them and it all became clear.
Mr Donald Wheresmetroosers was unavailable for comment, but I heard that right up until the point that he ran off down Dale Street to try and catch the tram to the airport and go on Holiday, he was negotiating with Googie the Liverpool Duck, trying to line her up as the main support act. (Donald? Duck? No wonder my googie withers).
So first, ladies and gentlemen this is what I faced on trying to get to the bottom of this, the latest in a long line of debacles.
As the meeting began, Mr Phil Rednose, the leading clown in charge of all things custard and with a finger in every pie, looking as usual like a warped negative of Kate Bush being electrocuted, took the lead on behalf of the Custard Company.
He just started to tell me that organising the concert was a bit like “a scouse wedding” at which point a hail of staplers, desk tidy’s and box files hurtled towards him with considerable force, knocking him off of his prototype Bench for Liverpool and burying him on the floor.
As he scrambled back onto his “more than sitting on” bench (I noticed he had a toilet roll tied to it) he went on, that "for those not used to organising events", (that seemed to cover everyone in the room) "this is just a typical moment on the 'long and winding road to……'”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence as a 17” computer monitor hit him squarely on the temple and he fell in a heap silent for the rest of the meeting.
"Howzat!" Somebody cried.
Give me some good news I said to them; give me one thing that has been arranged.
A young lady by the name of MeCogloose jumped up very excitedly and said I have booked the Bouncy Castle!
Well that’s a start, I said, something for the kids.
Then somebody pointed out that it should have been Beyonce that was booked.
Oh, 'who else have you booked then young lady', I said hopefully.'Well, that’s been brilliant', she said. 'I have got all the names from the list of top stars.
Bono
Michael Jackson
Sir Bob
Justin
Even Dame Shirley…loads of them and they have all written to confirm!"
"By Jove, take a bow Miss, we are saved, show me the confirmation letters," I said.
Sure enough she handed them to me, all willing to perform on the night.
"Marvellous," I said leafing through them….until I read the first one!
'The Sir Edward De Bono foundation would be delighted to deliver one of their renowned 2 hour talks on lateral thinking…..
As former Chief of Staff, General Sir Michael Jackson would be pleased to …..
Sir Bobby would be delighted to come to Anfield and meet up with old team mates from the triumphant 1966 squad…
since stepping down from Westminster Council Dame Shirley Porter has been enjoying…..
"Tell me", I said, "Have you confirmed Justin?
"If we have him that will give us the international coverage we need for global TV rights. "
"Global?" She said.
"You mean Gorbals, don’t you?
"Scottish Television is only interested if we get Lulu or the Proclaimers. But Lulu is unavailable and Roger Moore and Tony Curtis haven’t worked together for years. "
"Roger Moore…Tony Curtis?" I said, "what are you…they are the Persuaders!"
"Yes," she said, "that would definitely persuade them if they agree to do it. "
"Just tell me," I said, "have you got Justin?"
"Yes" she said "and it’s even on his website, look."
Well ladies and gentlemen, my sense of relief was short-lived as I watched her type into the website of Justin’s Rattlesnake www.rattlesnakebite.org/index.htm
"It’s Timberlake" I said, very quietly, "Justin Timberlake."
"Don’t be silly," she said, "they make boots and stuff."
Gosh I thought I was scatty! It was at this point I utilised the tried and trusted method for hypnotising a chicken, drawing finger circles on the table in front of her and then pulling away in a straight line.
Always worked with Storeyteller when I was Chuckle Executive.
She went under straight away and sat calmly with a fixed contented expression for the rest of the meeting with just the occasional little squeak.
"Right! Lets’s start from scratch.
"Anfield is booked isn’t it?
"Now, have you made sure there is not a match on?"
Two people ran out of the room and the rest sat puzzled and red faced.
"Good heavens!" I said in disbelief, "so McCartney is just singing, 'there’s a shadow hanging over me' and it’s the referee sending him off for obstruction!
"You have had two years to plan this," I said.
"What have you been doing? Why is there no money?
"You had over 100 million and this is the headline event!!
"I left ages ago - so I haven’t got it!" (the b**tards)
“Well” said Rednose, coming to life or as near as he can manage, “it’s been a hard days….”
"Shut it!" I said!
"Just shut it!"
Then they showed me the plan for filling Goodison Park with water and fish from the Salthouse dock. Apparently Everton couldn’t get anything in the net and it had to be abandoned at a cost of £330,000.
"All right," I said "that still leaves 100 million."
Then they showed me some bin bags full of rags and said "we have been putting these on the lampposts..."
"Keep going," I said.
"Then there was err….the opening event and Ringo that was £35,000 just for him!
“No, no” said Rednose, “I managed to get that down to £95,000….oh er up I mean….which is best up or down?
"Isn’t it more high profile, the more I spend of your money?"
"Then there was all the pay-offs including yours," they said. The cheek of them!
"But we have attracted some big sponsors like Ethel Austen."
"I wouldn’t count on Ethel, right now," I said.
"I think your Midas hand has already touched her."
Then they found the scapegoat they were looking for.
"It’s McCartney’s fault!" they said.
"He tricked Jasper Harbottle by pretending it would bring in loads of money, he’s done nothing to organise this. He just wants to turn up and sing bloody songs!
"We’ve had to negotiate all the deals."
"What deals," I said?
"Well Wally Bradlow has said that it will raise £300,000 for charity."
"No," I said.
"That’s Maccas appearance fee, that he wants to go to LIPA suction the charity for talented fat kids.
"That’s not a deal, that is at his request!
"It is still your money that you haven’t got, so you are making the donation!"
"So he is doing it for free. So why has he demanded that we give him £2 million and let his own production company organise it and take all the credit?" They cried as one.

"Well I am no expert," I said modestly, "but there are a few weeks to go and no support acts, no staging, no sound systems, no rigging, no health and safety confirmation for extra seating, there might be a match on, no television deal, no DVD or CD rights you haven’t even sorted the licence for the Mr Whippy pitch and you have a £20 million deficit, and on this alone you are already £2 million down the pan with a £62 million overall budget deficit at least and you are less than halfway through the Capital of Custard year! You tell me?"

After a few minutes silence, Rednose put up his hand.
"If you are about to incorporate a Beatles lyric into your next sentence I will kill you," I said.
“Yesterday…” he said, as I leapt across the table grabbing for his throat.
“No no…yesterday we decided to review the whole format. He is the star, it’s him people want to see - not Timberland and Whitney Spears, so we have decided to go for something local and more cutting edge."
"Yes, the Parks and Gardens Banjo quartet," said MeCogloose, snapping out of her trance.
"They are the best ‘Edge Cutters I could find. They did Ringo’s head the other week."
Well ladies and gentlemen, as you know it is not like Sir Diddy to admit defeat but I afraid I have to.
It was at that point I left the Fun Palace.
I cannot allow my good name to be dragged out of the mud and back in again by being associated with this farce.
I never want to see the 08 Logo again or the “Brand on the Run” as McCartney calls it.
In the hope I could salvage something I had already called upon my good friend from CityTalkbutnobodyslistening FM, Mr Pete Murray (he’ll knock your block off) to use his celebrity contacts to get me a top line-up to join Sir Paul on the big day, the main event of 2008.
Yes, I had all the stars on standby ready to run out there onto the pitch, thanks to good old Pricey.
Ray Quinn, (of course) Sonia, Bernie Flint, Eatin’ Out (or something) Bernard Hogan and the NDO, Professor Ian Tracey and his Thunderbird 2 Organ, Rick Asthma, OCD, or is it OHMS (something in the dark anyway).
I had Jerry Seinfeld and the Pacemakers, Valerie Pertbottom and the Royal Phillysredmond Orchestra, The Posh Scally G. Rhiuvarb Rhiuvarb and his rude rappy songs, Dr MacIllHook, and thanks to some of my old cabalists for all the rock n roll Dads out there, I even had ABE and Sirenz!
Now I have to tell them it’s all off and McCartney will be appearing with the Wurzells by the sound of it!
So yes Liverpool I have let you down.
The rescue I had carefully planned is not to be ladies and gentlemen.
I am sure Mr McCartney and his people will be able to organise it and make the day a success for those who see it.
One day we may even find out how much it cost along with everything else.
I bet we don’t find out before May 1st.
But you see missus, the problem has been that from day one, the Custard Company only ever had one idea about 2008 and they almost drove the already batty Robbing Archer mad with it. It was to reform the Beatles for 2008 and build everything else around it to attract world attention.
Yes I know we are short by two of them and believe it or not, even the Mandarins, (was Jason one of them? well he was the right colour!) yes, even the Mandarins of the Custard company knew there were only two left.
Nevertheless, they insisted that Archer get Paul and Ringo on stage together whatever the cost with the relatives of George and John, all playing together.
Now it was two years before they realised that Kathleen Harrison was in fact Mrs Thursday and star of the Huggets and no relation. That Sean the Sheep was an animated character, (hence no reply) and of course Julian Clary is a close comedian friend of Norman Lamont and had a hand in his becoming Chancellor.
I think it was Julian Lemon they meant, Cynthia’s Lad.
But on the bright side, the mix-up over Julian also ended some of the silly speculation about who was the fifth Beatle, when it was finally confirmed that it was definitely not, Fanny the Wonder Dog.
Well whatever happens Ladies and Gentlemen, the Concert, the “Liverpool Sound” will still, no doubt, be of music and popular culture and not the sound of national laughter, which would have been the CD, released by the Custard Company if McCartney’s people hadn’t had to step in.
The concert should go ahead in June by which time my dear little friend Wally Bradlow will, if there is any justice in the world, be a Nowhere man sitting in a Nowhere land….Damn!
Bloody Redmond has got me at it now!
Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye
Hope he does The Frog Chorus!
Kneedeep kneedeep..in debt!

P-DIDDY AND HIS BAND 'GRAB THAT', WITH PHIL SPECTREDIRECTOR AND THE FORMER MEMBERS OF CULTURE CLUB - NO 1 FOR FINANCIAL MISMANAGEMENT...!!!!

By Jove Missus, great news!

As many of you will know, I have been trying to cash in on the popularity of Old Boy Bands and promote them on my Radio Station, Bighead FM.

Then I got a marvellous idea while fondly looking at some old emails sent by Rory Storey, and how they helped me get on in the world.

I would put my own Boy Band together.

I thought let’s do it P-Diddy!

But it will need some skilled financial mis-management.

So, with that in mind, I looked to the man that has not only been at the forefront of helping to promote “My Boy” Bands but who has also presided over the Number 1 Financial Mismanagement in the country, Phil Spectredirector.

I thought, Hasitall!

He was one of my closest Diddymen at Cabal Records - and if anyone can help me pull together a rich pool of talentless pop idles it’s him!

A wonderful man, modest to the point of incredulity, never takes any of the credit for getting to the Number 1 spot.

Well, I didn’t have to wait long and within just a few months - for only £230k - we have managed to get Jason Orange (aka Jasper Harbottle) to join the ranks of my very own Boy Band, GRAB THAT!

And even better, thanks to the Spectre and Phil/Colin's collaboration, the money has all been donated by my loyal former subjects - the good people of Liverpool from their very own pockets, or at least it will be when they get their Serf Tax demand.

I can’t thank the kind hearted people of Liverpool enough for their financial support, without which we wouldn’t have our top line up, the talentless trio, joining me to bring music and laughter to the nationwide and other accounts.

So a big thank you for all the money you have given to get the boys together - Jason 230k, Chris 50k, Kevin 50K - and my thanks as well for all the help from Warren 50cents.

You may have noticed that all the band are former members of Culture Club.

But that means we are ready to re-release some of those great hits like “cowwa, cowwa, cowwa, cowwa council comedians, they come and go, they come and go, they come and go, oh”

And the biggest news is that now we have Harbottle, we are hoping to go on our European tour soon, starting in Spain, the Costa Bradlow and culminating in joining Macca himself at Anfield, who rumour has it, will be joined by Blondie, to watch Sir Pole McSlidey.

I think there is a Star Trek convention on at the same time - somebody told me that dozens of tickets have got Enterprise already written all over them. (INTERESTING, EDS)

Now I know what you are thinking, GRAB THAT! was never the same without Robyn Millions - the Aussie Osborne of Tasmanian puppet ballet cabaret.

But dear fans let me remind you, her initially promising hit “Let Me Entertain You” was only in the charts for a couple of weeks before she disappeared from the pop scene without a trace of £375,000.

But Robyn, if you’re reading this, “We want it back, we want it back for good”

Now of course the big thing these days is the elusive X Factor and if Einstein a Go Go was right and x = CEX squared (or cornered) then it is pretty certain that by May - or a lot sooner - we could be joined by the X leader of Style-less Council!

No names, no fire drill.

But remember with the X Factor, it’s the public who can decide in the end.

But a word of warning missus, don’t fall for those phone-in scams, vote in person, don’t dial any of those dodgy 233 numbers, those call centres are ripping you off for millions!

Ha, ha I should know!

All the results get Doctored!

So if you want to see us performing, we are hoping to get a gig at the Royal Court.

Sorry, I know many of you would prefer the Crown Court, but that’s Showbiz!

And we are prepared, as ever, to take what we can get.

And by Jove, we’ve got a lot!

And to think - really it’s all yours!

Ha ha, that’s why Liverpool will always hold a special place in my wallet.

The generosity of scousers is legendary.

In fact, it’s unbelievable!

People laugh when I tell them, but its true ladies and gentlemen!

God bless the good people of Liverpool for their generosity and humour.

Thanks to them we are already laughing all the way to the bank before we’ve even released our first single!

Maybe we can get a gig at the next Mathew Street Festival too?

Yes, don’t see why not, just one step farther is all we need!

Anyway, say nothing for now, Sirenz is golden!

Don’t forget when you do come to see us, bring the kids, there’s ice cream in the interval, all the way from Spain.

By Jove yes!

Capital of Culture 2008 will be remembered as the event that launched GRAB THAT!

Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye

Not ‘Arf Pop Pickers.