Curry Chips

Last Friday night as I reclined in my sofa after a hard day spent throwing stones at passing traffic, I decided to activate my television set so as to be entertained by the wide variety of programming available on my four channels while I gnawed on a side of ham.

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TG4 had "The grey poncho", starring Henry Fonda. A classic western where a gang of thugs plague the small town of Arid Scrote, leaving the people with only one hope - that horseshoe-slinger Clay Bucket will somehow save them.

Much better telly was to be found the following night on RTE; highly successful series "The Restaurant" was on. Each week a celebrity is invited to take charge in the kitchen and prepare a menu for the delectation of two resident critics (Tom Doorley and Paulo Tullio), a guest critic and select members of the public.

Narrator: "Tonight, the Restaurant is proud to present guest chef Roger Moore! Roger promises to dish up a feast for the senses....but not 'For your eyes only' ha ha ha. Christ, who writes this shit?"

Yes indeedy, it's time for another transcript of laugh-a-minute arts review show “The View”, hosted by John Kelly on RTE. For those who have never had the pleasure, RTE is one of Ireland's many (i.e. 4) indigenous channels.

J.Kelly: “Hullo and welcome to tonight’s episode of The View, where we decide if it’s art or plain old arse. Tonight’s guests include Sam Smyth from the Independent, John Waters from the Times and Miranda Felchbucket from the Tribune. You’re all welcome.”
Sam: “Aaaaa….”
J.Kelly: “Not yet Sam. Now, on last week’s show we probed Yeats and Joyce, so tonight it is only fitting that we address Kavanagh; a man of immense talent and depth who was initially misunderstood but is now appreciated by a growing audience worldwide.”
Sam: “Aaaaa…’Stony grey soil’ is indeed…a moving-“
J.Kelly: “That’s Patrick Kavanagh. We’re discussing Richie.”
Sam [incredulously] : “Richie Kavanagh?”
J.Kelly: “Indeed. Watch this.”

Yes indeedy, it's time for yet another roundup of yet another night with the goggle-box that leaves you tearing the house asunder for your cyanide pills.

TG4 had "Amu san East end", where ebullient ants-in-his-pants presenter Hector O'Heochagain joined the cast of "Eastenders" for a night.
Hector: "YO. Here I am-" [does rapper-style hand moves] "-IN the east end, WITH the Eastenders. And the FIRST-" [still flicking] "-person I'm gonna meet is landlady Peggy Mitchell, otherwise known as Babs Windsor."
Babs: "Allow dawlin and wewcome teh the Queen Vic!"
Hector: "Charmed Babs, charmed. Now. Tell us about that time you were exercising in that 'Carry On' film and you stretched so much that the bra burst and your norks flapped out."

[One of the boyfriends from the Meteor advert sits in the interview room; Detective Elliot Stabler enters]
Stabler: "Soooo....whaddya we have here? A nice young Irish boy who decides to [glances at rapsheet] drop a bowling ball on his girlfriend Fiona's head. Nice work."
Billy: "Lissen here now, it wasn't my fault. She drove me to it."
Stabler: "Sure she did, tough guy." [pulling up a chair] "Why don't you tell me all about it."
Billy: "Well, it all started around November. Meself and Freddy were sitting on the couch in my place, waiting for the girls to come back from another shopping expedition. Not doin' much, just fiddling with the odd Christmas decoration, y'know. So next thing they arrive home and say that because it's Christmas, they're gonna do a lapdance for us!"

The snackbox diaries now presents a rare insight into the workings of a modern advertising agency, based in central London.

[scene: a brainstorming session in the boardroom of Langley, McCann and Scrote]
Geoff: "Okay boys, it's time to push the envelope again. This week we're going to get creative with...[scans notes]...a gas-guzzling 4x4, some probiotic yoghurty bollocks and oh Christ, washing powder. Brett, take the jeep. Simon, take the yoghurty bollocks. That leaves you with the washing powder, Laurence."
Laurence: "Ah arse. My experience with washing powder is about as vast as my experience with fat chicks."
Simon: "You're the baddest Lar!" [high-fives Laurence]
Geoff: "Yeah yeah, settle down. Now go do that voodoo that you do! Be back here in an hour with the goods."

Snackbox diaries would now like to salute RTE's flagship (well, only) soap opera "Fair City" for its unrelenting fortitude in tackling important social issues head on.

This time last year they did their bit for eating disorders. Each week we wondered if Jimmy (who's a bit dim) would cotton on to why his lubberly wife Robin was so found of the technicolor yawn.

[After a bad lunchtime curry, Jimmy rushes home to plonk his rump on the throne but finds Robin hunched over the bowl]
Robin: "Jimmy!" [wiping gob] "You're home!"
Jimmy: "Robin! Are yiz bein' sick there or wha?"
Robin: "Eh....no. No! I'm ah....cleaning the loo."
Jimmy: "With vomit?"
Robin: "Ummm....not just ordinary vomit Jimmy, this is new Vommit Bang! See those pesky stains around the inside of the bowl? Well Bang!" [Robin spews again] "..urgh...and the dirt is gone!"
Jimmy: "Wow. Thass great. C’mere, where did all these mars bar wrappers come from?"
Robin: "Oh, those! I ah...left the window open and they all blew in."
Jimmy: "Wow. Fancy that. Wait'll I tell the lads."
Robin: "Heh heh, yeah! Yeh think I'd try and pull the wool over your eyes Jimmy, sure you're too smart for me by far!"
Jimmy [points finger gun]: "You betcha!" [Jimmy adjusts his footing] "Ah...now if yeh wouldn't mind offering this seat to someone who needs it? And yeh might need some more of that Vommit Bang once I’m done in here….”

And now....cast your mind back to 2002, if you can.

Channel 4 has found itself with an unlikely hit in "Nigella Bites", which uses good old fashioned poontang to turn the traditional cookery programme on its head. While Nigella eyes Channel 4 viewers and licks butterscotch seductively from a finger, RTE viewers must make do with Darina Allen as she coaxes walnut'n'prune stuffing into an uninviting turkey cavity.
We can now finally reveal a shocking transcript of the pilot episode commissioned by RTE with which they hoped to compete. Sadly, it never saw the light of day.

[Marty Whelan stands in front of three separate cooking areas]
Marty: "Hello and welcome to the first episode of 'Kiss my asparagus' where we let three plucky contestants battle it out over half an hour to be crowned 'King of the hot ring'! So without further ado, let's meet our first contestant shall we? His name is Benny and he's from Kerry!"

Last Tuesday morning, I awoke to a faint popping noise. Since I'd been having one of my favourite dreams (the one where I send hundreds of ad agency "creatives" up in hot-air balloons and have at them with a blunderbuss), I didn't think it particularly odd.

It was then that I opened my eyes to behold a number of green bubbles floating above my head. Two sneezes confirmed my initial diagnosis; I had flu! Please note that men get flu; women get colds. Ever see a woman in a lemsip ad? No. No room for them with all the high-powered executive menfolk throwing back gallons of hot lemony goodness so the merger doesn't go down the pan.

So it was a day in a musty bathrobe with daytime TV for me! How thrilling. A quick phonecall informed Jed and the boys that they'd be one shit-shoveller short on the slurry job, and that was it! I staggered downstairs and turned on the TV with high hopes. Yes, I am a moron.

Willum Connors: "You're watching KOWPAT where it's time to take a look back at the highlights from this week's daytime TV which is of course dominated by Helena Hegarty and her 'What We Wimmin Want' show.

Monday saw Helena realise a long-held ambition to get hunky Jean-Christophe Novelli into the studio. Would he manage to serve up something even dishier than himself or..."
[Willum throws down his notes and looks off-camera]
Willum: "Lads, who put that in? 'Dishier than himself'? That's just shit. Look, just play the clip while I calm down."

Again on snackbox diaries, we present more salubrious snippets of what the humble goggle-box offered the less-discerning viewer last week.

Channel4, Tuesday: Des and Carol play the "will they, won't they" game on Countdown!

[the clock winds down as the contestants work on the following letters game]

C I S O T R S T E

[diddy-doody, diddle-de-doo, BEW!]
Des: "O-kay, let's stawt with ah reigning champion, Neville?"
Neville: "I've got a seven."
Des: "Seven, right Murty, how about you?"
Murty: "I have a nine, Des." [huge gap-toothed grin]
Des: "My my, a nine. Splendid. Let's get Neville's seven first."
Neville: "I got COSTERS."
Des: "Costers, yes, splendid. And let's....let's have your nine then Murty."

Oh embarrassador, with these sumptuous shows you are spoilink uzz.

In case you're one of the many who spend Friday nights mopping up the sick outside Star bingo in Crumlin and watch the Late Late repeat around teatime on a Tuesday, let Snackbox Diaries guide you through tonight's award-winning episode.

First up! The so-bad-you-bite-your-knuckles Russian chick from Fair City. She fartskis on for about four minutes, so you could chance a quick dump and maybe a cream cracker'n'jam.

Next up! Brian Kennedy singing "Every time I sing this song it's a cry for help". AVOID. Jesus, you don't need me to tell you that when you see Mr.Two-pounds-of-shite-in-a-one-pound-bag, you turn the fucking telly off.

Now's the time to make sure you have the muggatay and the packa hobnobs.

If you're one of the many unfortunates in society who find themselves burdened with something approaching a sense of taste, you may well have missed out on the fact that ITV and TV3 are showing nightly instalments of a rather bizarre experiment which is currently underway in a secret location in the south Pacific.

Over a dozen individuals were lured to a "sun-drenched paradise" where they would spend weeks "cavorting with beautiful members of the opposite sex" with the promise of "a completely overhauled public profile to facilitate a smooth progression into the world of C-list celebrityhood".

Little did they know what they were getting into. Sponsored by Cadburys, "The Lurve Island of Dr.Moro" is one hour of eye-watering lo-jinks.

A recent non-lethal weather phenomenon was rather uncharacteristically reported in an understated fashion by the ever-reliable SKY NEWS. Ah okay, not really.

Reporting on a TORNADO which TORE SLATES FROM THEIR VERY ROOVES in NORTH LONDON which could have KILLED THOUSANDS if they had all been gathered under the eaves or had maybe been sufficiently distracted to walk into open manholes, SKY NEWS gave this once-in-a-few-years event the space it deserved.

KOWPAT news managed to contact rookie SKY news anchor Larry Scrote, who told us how he found himself in the middle of his very own personal storm when the story broke:

Debbie: [munch/snorf]

He shore does. This is another slab of buttery goodness from the brainiacs at RTE.

Join Richard Corrigan in his kitchen as he shows you how easy-peasy it all is! Richard has little butter-guns up either sleeve which shoot patties of goodness at will. In his sights are spuds, fish, souffles, toast, cheesecake and Maria Schneider's bottom.

While hoovering naked last night, I slipped on some catfood and went arse over tit and the strangest thing happened with the nozzle and I ended up unable to move and had to make do with watching TV until the hoover's motor burnt out.

It wasn't so bad cause I got to catch up on the soaps!

Hoyah but new year's eve on RTE telly was only mighty.

I had no control over the remote but I bloody well didn't need it, let me tell you. Why would you want anything else other than to have Marty Whelan thrill you to your very core with another smashing instalment of Celebrity Jigs'n'Reels?

Oh! But what a lineup of Celebrities.

* Goggle-Eyed Funny Man Jon Kenny!
* Sassy Columnist And Ample-Breasted Socialite Amanda Brunker!
* Some Lad From TG4 Who Works The Canteen!
* Other Folk!

The Late Late is BACK ON FORM.

Talk about spoiling us.

Pat kicked off with a ground-breaking, I say GROUND-BREAKING chat with Orla Brady about her jaded Desperate Housewives-ripoff series where she says...hang on till I put down my horlicks...SHE DOESN'T AGREE WITH THE SIZE ZERO MENTALITY.

Researchers at Ireland's national broadcaster have set the international scientific community abuzz with claims that they have synthesised a product which is "shitter than shit itself".

Members of the highly-secretive Programme Development team at RTE, which is based in Montrose, claim to have made the discovery one night "quite by accident".