Jamie Oliver, by way of introduction, is a chef. If only that was where it ended, we wouldn’t care and I wouldn’t have a desire to decapitate some tosspott from Essex.

He came to fame after working in the River Cafe, a place I have never been to and expect I will never be able to afford to go to. At this stage, he wasn’t interfering with the television schedules, so my vendetta was non-existent.

However, then came The Naked Chef. This was like most cooking programmes… chef makes food, prepares it, puts it in the oven, then takes out a cooked version that looks great. Unfortunately, they hired a cameraman from NYPD Blue. It was like the poor bastard was was recovering from a drink problem, and had the shakes. How the hell are you meant to see what is going in the pan if it’s jerking all over the screen.

The next problem came with the fact he’d blitz all over London (nipping to his handy local vietnamese shop… we all have those nearby!), on a bloody scooter. Scooter drivers piss me off at the best of times, as they look stupid. Even ones who try to recreate ’60s Mod styles look like twerps, as they tend to be spotty students with scarves. I digress. Oliver’s a spoon.

The BIGGEST irritation though, has got to be the language he used. Gordon Ramsey can get away with calling someone a F*cking moron on TV, and I don’t care. However, just the sound of some little cheeky chappy from Essex describing a chip butty as “pukka” makes me want to throw a mug of coffee through the screen. Nothing is placed in the pan, instead you just “bang” it in.

I am not asking for everyone to speak with refined tones, and crystal clear annunciation. However, if you are a professional cockney (despite being from essex… don’t worry non-brits, it’s a technicality), who happens to be able to cook, stick to writing books and let me watch Dragon’s Den, you git.

Then again, having read his books, he STILL can’t use decent grammar.

It’s not enough, however, for him to fill the screens with his cooking, and produce varying volumes of best-selling books…no, he has to become a bloody champion for an important issue: school lunches for kids.

Without naming any names… not least because I’m not the sort of chap who associates with anyone still in school (m’lud)… kids in the UK are fat. If you throw something at them when you drive past, very few of them are bright or nimble enough to avoid the projectile. And they are so blubbery they make easy targets. try it next time you have some eggs that go off. It’s the original form of recycling.

One of the reasons for the rotund shape of our youth is said to be the shite they eat at school. Instead of fruit, veg, and fresh protein, it’s all processed stuff that hasn’t seen light of day for weeks. From what I remember of my school lunches, I would have chips and some form of pudding (with custard, of course) and do NO exercise at all. I’m not kidding… I was medically banned from doing any strenuous exercise. Bizarley, it was during this time that I moved from being a tubby git, and became… well, normal.

However, in this world where everyone has to blame schools, Government, or anyone else about the fact little Billy can’t fit in the back of a Nissan Micra, Food Crusader Jamie Oliver took it upon himself to change the foods. However, all the complaints had been made in a MUCH better way in Supersize Me. This just made Oliver look like he was jumping on the publicity bandwagon of how we are failing the kiddies.

Anyway… feel free to leave any comments on people YOU think are tossers, and enjoy the sensation of forcing people to think what you think!

Bye for now