Another Chinese SPAM attack today. They seem to be bypassing the word verification, so I've now enabled full comment moderation. Not that I'm allowing it to annoy me. I've enjoyed a day in the pool and will continue to enjoy subsequent days being hot, wrinkled, and sexier than ever. The Chinese will never defeat me so long as I'm smeared in Ambre Solaire body lotion and have Cheggers to distract the summer gnats.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
You write a blog, take care to craft its words, its pictures. You care about your readers. You try to put the least number of obstacles before them to prevent them reading.
And the minute you turn your back, some individuals (perhaps it’s best if I just refer to them as ‘scum’) deface your blog with hundred (yes hundreds) of spam comments. In Chinese. And what’s even better is that there’s no way to delete all these comments in one or two simple operations. I have to now begin going through every single comment, clicking half a dozen times to get rid of each one.
[I've counted them. 923 comments to be deleted. I might as well just shut this bloody blog... It's not worth the *many* hours it will take me to clean this mess up. Two years of work ruined by people who create nothing but want to make easy money by detroying other people's work. Scum. Absolute scum.]
Sunday, 5 April 2009
When I agreed to be interviewed by Piers Morgan, I didn’t realise that I’d get the full hour-long treatment. Tonight’s show is as in-depth a profile about the Madeley phenomenon as you could ever hope to see, record to the Sky+ box, burn to recordable DVD, or have tattooed across your belly like some postmodern version of the Bayeux Tapestry. It also marks the beginning of twelve months of celebrations around the country ending, early next year, with the burning of effigies of Richard Hammond (or Madeley-lite, as Judy calls him) and then the unveiling of my statue in Trafalgar Square. My thighs cast twelve feel wide in bronze promise to become a new gathering point for tourists everywhere and, we hope, help stimulate this flagging economy if not your deepest longings as sexual beings.
On tonight’s show I also talk openly about my relationship with Judy, my charity work on behalf of the disappearing Norfolk chipmunk, and my long-standing feud with Jeremy Paxman over the correct pronunciation of the phrase ‘vulcanised rubber’. Piers reveals himself to be a sensitive interviewer and I open up more than I’d wanted to about my personal life, Judy’s screwdriver collection, and the tribulations of being the nation’s most potent example of the male gene.
I’ve seen the final edit of the show and, unfortunately, most of my two and a half-hour rant about Twitter, blogging, and rival internet personalities has been left out. Also missing is the first public announcement of my starring role in Charlie Kaufmann’s reworking of the David Lean classic ‘Brief Encounter’. I had spoken quite eloquently about how excited I am by the script, which transforms Celia Johnson’s role into that of Natasha Kaplinsky’s disembodied head which my character falls in love with as he carries it in a travel suitcase on a publicity trip to Manchester. However, Piers has, perhaps wisely, chosen to leave these moments out of a show which is more of a celebration of my past accomplishments rather than my impending rise to Hollywood, world celebrity, and Godhead.
So, if you want to catch up with the Richard Madeley omnibus, you’d be well advised to tune in tonight. 10PM. ITV. It will make you remember why your TV remote control has a button labelled ‘3’.