It's time to down tools and head off to a week of 7,000 calorie a day consumption. H&G would like to wish our readers a festive, merry and downright stylish Christmas. A review of the highs and lows of 2007 will be coming soon, fuelled by a noggin or two of booze.

Just occassionaly we at H&G are rendered so speechless by the poverty of creative thought in our industry that we just have to let the work speak for itself.

Click here to view the latest ad for the RSPCA is by some distance the most execrable idealess example of our art. Hats off. It makes the A.A. look like Van Gough.

In the words of our least favourite creative agency heads 'Where's the idea' ?

Now the man legend that is Charlie Brooker has long been applauded by H&G for his extra special turn of phrase.

Describing Mark Bannerman in the latest ITV dung heap of I'm A Celebrity he imagines the likely orgasm face of the ex-Eastender as 'at the point of climax he merely looks confused , gawping at the yop spurting from his fun-pole in cowed amazement'.

So to celebrate his best parts we give you 'The Top 10 Cocks in Advertising'.

Enjoy

Still in the frame as The Spare's sort of ex-girlfriend her fame allows her to be classed within our new feature of celebrities who look like other celebrities. And frankly someone had to finally pluck up the courage - not since Letitia Dean has the Miss Piggy mantle been so deserved

Consumers.

A word that has long irritated H&G. Marketeers, advertisers, commentators and even (and especially) Radio 5 djs. They're all it.

'Consumers are in control '

'Consumers are empowered'

ENOUGH !

They are people. They are not mute animals waiting to be fed the next commercial message. They make choices about which brands to buy or not and just to be very clear, they are not eagerly waiting for your next tedious advertising spot.

It doesn't make you clever, it doesn't show you have your finger on the pulse of the nation. It says absolutely nothing about the intellect of the person who uses that word.

So join us in this plea. Stop calling them consumers.

"You can't trust anyone these days" is the kind of ill-informed blanket value-judgement H&G was born to dispel. The fact is, you can trust some people these days, but mostly you can't. here's a handy guide to people you should be very wary of:

1. Male vegetarians
2. Men who don't like James Bond films.
3. Men with little change purses.
4. Men who wear their sunglasses on the top of their heads.
5. Anyone who lets their dog lick their face / kiss them etc.

More handy People Not To Trust soon...

H&G really like look-a-likes. Here's the first in a sure to be long series.

Yes, it's a macho type who rogers famous Czech supermodels. And Tomas Rosicky from Arsenal.

H&G are currently taking some time out for much deserved rest and recuperation in far flung Peru (MACCHU PICCHU!) for this extra special foreign posting we felt it necessary to raise awareness of this countries fine parade based economy.

At every turn there's a broccaded group of army reservists tooting trumpets and waving flags. The national dress also appears to have a disturbing rape fantasy look to it. And at last viewing out of our bar window there was a group of people tied to the roof of a Ford transit van sitting in a large inflatable boat.

We've also discovered that llamas are not just the finest animals on the planet but Welsh spitting beasts. Think about it.

So Viva Chavez and time to get back to the poker table. Current score England 3, local US workers 0

Rare it is that viral campaigns catch the eye of H&G. But something cropped up in our inbox today that made us take note. Not only is the rendering sweet to behold but the question on our lips is...what's behind that revolving door ?

http://www.theotherview.co.uk/

Answers please on a postcard

Missing children rarely present amusing copy and in light of a certain blonde girl last seen somewhere in Portugal H&G would like to tread lightly.

However news of Andrew 'Human Calculator' Gosden has forced a smile through our clenched moral teeth. It seems that rather than run away from Doncaster for the bright lights of Londons Glittering West End, Andrew has instead found another way to broaden his horizons.

'He could be heading for several areas such as HMS Belfast, the Science Museum, the Natural History Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum' said PC Mel Clarke (while stiffling a chortle) of Doncaster Police.

We can only applaud that it seems todays youth have finally found that art it more interesting than the clipjoints of Soho.

Rather than churn out observations about minor physical injuries, the food we've eaten or Big Brother here at H&G towers we prefer to wait for the magical before we write. Today readers I bring you a priceless gift.

On the 10th anniversary of her untimely death, it rather fittingly concerns the Peoples Princess. Or more precisely the theatrical masterpiece that has been created about her.

Ladies and gentlemen. I give you 'Charles and Diana ; The Musical'.

I'm not kidding - it exists and is currently touring Germany.

The blurb reads as follows ''Princess Diana, the musical' culminates at the time of her divorce, but ends at the time of her funeral. As the musical progresses it portrays the evolution of the young Diana into the intelligent, mature woman who, becomes arguably the most famous, (certainly one of the most famous), women in the world. Respectful of the Royal Family and genuinely sympathetic to all concerned it bubbles over with emotion and vitality.'

I urge you to click through immediately, scroll down and have a listen. Track 5 is our favourite. The Queen has a lovely duet with Charles.

A few posts back my erstwhile partner at H&G coined a new phrase in the lexicon of career prospects. 'Doing a Caruso', for any new readers, is that glorious moment when a celebritys over inflated ego convinces them that they are better than the slimy vehicle they rose from.

Well, we have another one for you. I give you Tim Lovejoy.

Now Tim was part of one of the greatest Saturday morning couples in history. Tarrant and James on Tiswas, Schofield and Greene on Going Live and finally Lovejoy and Chamberlein on Soccer AM. Not a Saturday morning went past that he didn't bring a ray of sunshine to our couch bound viewing - bouncebackability, graaaavy, even the Geordie biscuits...all had charm and flair.

But not for our Tim. He's going to better things, pink shirt firmly packed in his kit bag.

Tim...you've blown it.

(Tim can now be seen presenting 'Something for the weekend', a cookery programme on Sunday mornings)

The Hard Sell, the regular Guardian Guide piece, has long been the primo place for good old fashioned advertising creative bashing. But it's been rather off form lately. Cutting satire has become a tad forced and H&G are more than a little saddened by this.

So we have great hopes that they should have noticed tonights airing of the new AA work. The lasting legacy of Claire Salmon as their Marketing Director was to ditch the wondeful '4th Emergency Service' for...wait for it 'Just AAsk'. Right. Hmmm. Okay then.

She was promptly given the boot.

But this is even better. Having just about got them back on track with a group of simpering accolytes clad in cheap suits (the AAteam - how do they come up with such genius?), desperately trying to please their smug, silver haired leader the current agency seems to have panicked. Clearly their latest ad tracking has shown that consumers think that the AA is cold, smug, and as patronising as their creative work. So they've opted for the cuddly approach.

I don't really want to spoil it...Suffics to say, the bottom drawer from every single Coke brief in the 80's has just been cleaned out. Singing AA members prance around in their yellow clothing in a way that Halifax Howard himself would reject as faux-naif obseqiousness. Selected patrol men skip and leap around despensing joy to one and all via the medium of a Maria Carey cover version - and the closing caption on one twinkly eyed miscreant as he gurns inanely into the camera is so vomit inducing it's more International Rescue than anything else. Utterly, bowel- emptyingly awful.

A Cannes Lion clearly beckons.

Aha, and as of last night, it appears that the producers are attempting to paint Jonathon "not cool like Tyler" Durden - see rant below - as a dirty old man. Yes Mr. PHD you are clearly a paedo perv, no better than the unhuman scum who took away Poor Maddy. Still not regretting taking on the machine, Mr. Media? Still think you can glide through the experience into some sort of caring-sharing-Alan Sugar- for-the-Noughties new career? Hmmm? Well do ya?

We are gripped and we are giddy at H&G.

Right, that's it. After 5 long weeks where one portion of H&G has been lounging on his backside keeping clear from work or email I've had enough. Jonathon 'Bloody' Durden has done it. One of our own couldn't resist it. He's romped his way onto Big Brother via mates at Endemol / secret Spanish cabal meeting of TV execs and I cannot stand it. Not due to jealousy but because the 'so called strategic thinker' (thankyou The Sun for that quote) seems determined to act like a shorter and rounder version of Donal Macyintire. He seem determined to blow the big brother house wide open with his blazing insight about the kinds of strategies that each of the housemates is using to succeed. He's trying to show how good he is. How he can spot a consumer insight. How deft his though process is. And it's utterly 'Bloody' priceless. The moment where he confronts the twins to suggest that they are brilliant at marketing themselves is magic. They don't understand what he's talking about. They really really don't understand what he's talking about.Noone in the house does and this is the bit I'm going to love. At some point he's going to realise that they really are that vacuous. That for entertainment and for interest he's going to be reduced to reading toothpaste packaging just to stave off the madness.

But better than that, it's a torture even more wonderful because the only way that he can stave off madness is by becoming one of them. Bit by bit he's turning into a grinning apelike fool. Except he's too old. And he's not cool. It's like watching the ugly fat kid trying to be mates with everyone else. He keeps appearing puppylike, looking hopeful that the others will be nice to him. Thank god the other by product of this event, his Guardian Media column, is going to lack a certain amount of bite coupled as it is with the image of him singing YMCA dressed as the indian.

Jonathon: in your effort to be down with the kids, everyone will hear you scream.

(as I write he's just proudly admitted he's got £6m in the bank...he'll be beaten to death in his sleep I guarantee)

We have just become aware of the "lolcats" phenomenon. We are animal lovers at H&G - no, not in that way - and so we post our favourite, most chappish lolcat here.

More lolcats can be found here.

H&G have been most taken lately with the Perfect Night In series on Channel 4 and thought we could do our own (better) version. And so, Dear Readers, a departure from the usual H&G format. We hope you enjoy our nostalgic ramblings.

Jack: OK, so today's category will be Whimsical Comedy Drama. And of course the sine qua non of the genre is Lovejoy. I could never love a woman, or be friends with a bloke, who didn't love Lovejoy: you can tell what series it is by his mullet development, but I think the mullet was a metaphor for something bigger, a memento mori perhaps, it certainly got chopped off in the end and I think we can all sympathise with that.

Now, Will, let's put aside the fact that Eric is a founder member of the All-Time Pantheon of Sidekicks - which he most certainly is - and move to the issue which divides all eminent professors of Lovejology: which was the better Era - nay, Epoch - that of Lady Jane or that of Charlotte Cavendish?

Will: I never really cared for either of the posh women. So to decide the best years I'm going on other factors.

If the mullet-ometer is a sign of a successful character then the early years should have it, with Lovejoys hair so luxuriant that it wafted gently in the breeze. His dress sense however didn't evolve and that holds him back. Permanently clad in blue jean/white t-shirt/leather jacket (for 9 long years!) he looked like a perma-tanned Grease cast member who'd got left behind by the travelling musical roadshow.

That means for me the sidekicks can't just be ignored in my judgement ..and while Tink did a stirling job his performance was solid rather than influential. So really it's the ever gurning, Rentaghost inspired Eric 'Claypole' Catchpole that sways my view.

Eric in real life was clearly an out of work actor until Lovejoy occurred. Unused to regular payment he seems to have enjoyed success through the medium of booze - so as each week passed his cider bloomed features and large ruddy nose increased. By the finale he'd become more panto dame than anything else.

So I give it the latter years Jack.

Now a question for you.

Which TV actor (bar Eric) descended into either a drug or drink binge - which was clearly evident within the show ?

My vote goes to Michael 'Boon' Elphick who during his years of filming clearly became so friendly with Mr Jack Daniels that they had to kill him of Eastenders as he was doing the same to himself. For a fond look just look at this altar to the Urban Cowboy.

Jack: Well, I think I'll re-interpret the question a little. Let's call it the Most Ignominius Self-Inflicted Career Swan Dive question. However, I don't think drink and drugs can be involved as there are too many famous examples (Elvis, Hendrix, Joplin) ditto cars (McQueen, Dean, Princess Di). Something that involves stupidity, naivety or ignorance I think is best.

So, honorable mention to David Caruso, who didn't realise that:

a: he was about the only megafamous proper 'Stay Out of the Sun' Ginger at the time (there is a very good reason for this) and

b: NYPD Blue makes stars out of anyone who ever appears in it (Sipowicz for crying out loud!) and

c: he cannot act. The man is a plank of wood. He'd make someone a great cricket bat one day, but Olivier he ain't.

He would run away the category; I mean to the extent that it would be called "Doing a Caruso". He'd be a story Hollywood parents tell to frighten their kids into behaving. But somehow he lands a job on another can't-fail TV franchise, where the only skill required of him is the portentous removal of his sunglasses. Really I could go on all day about this. Really gets my adrenaline going.

Hmm...other honourable mentions Zoe out of EastEnders who went "to conquer Hollywood" not realising that she was only considered pretty because the rest of the cast were so ugly; Richard Blackwood and Craig David who also went to conquer America.

UPDATE: ZOE is now the Bionic Woman. We will watch like Stadler and Waldorf from the sidelines.

Here's my criteria: they have to have had one very lucky success, which went completely to their head, then they jack in the best thing that ever happened to their career for some completely beyond-their-talent, not-unless-Hell-freezes-over goal. On the way, they have to turn down some great project which they never should have got near, then they diappear while failing miserably, learn a life lesson the hard way, then come crawling back, swallowing their pride like Linda Lovelace in her prime, and prepared to take any work at all to try to rebuild their shattered profile. If they return to their alma mater and get badly treated by the producers, the rest of the cast and especially the writers - who fuck around with the character just to piss off the Swan Diver - that, that, is true ignominy.

Ladies and Gentleman: I give you Adam Rickitt.

Phew. I am now officially exhausted. You know what I need. Some relaxing, formulaic, Sunday night TV. What's your favourite Sunday night TV, Will?

Alas, alack, the merrymaking of fair Mays bank holiday is 'oer and sadness and melancholy fills the air.

But what is this perchance ? A tale of chivalry, an epic battle, an ode ?

Reader enjoy - The Onions finest hour

Through sheer happenstance on our extensive travels around the interweb superhighway, we have managed to encounter the work of Mr. Adam Buxton. He is also known as the Adam out of "Adam and Joe." If you were to click onto the hyper link below you will see a comedy clip from the very top drawer. Worth watching a number of times and fully endorsed with the H&G seal of approval.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zvul3DC4l4E

Readers who encounter "content" of a similar quality are very much welcome to post it to us in the comments section.

Having accidentally caught the end of Dr Who last Saturday which told the tale of a Dalek experiment to create a new human hybrid, H&G were rather surprised to see that when the body casing opened and the new limbed creature emerged it was dressed in spats and a full 3 piece chalk stripe suit.

Setting to one side the issue of whether their tailor had correctly recommended the right cloth (understated of course in order to not compete with the tentacles) we were more intrigued to ask how the tailor had managed a second fitting in the first place. Or even a first for that matter.

It then poses other questions.

Do all Daleks possess a pair of shoes and a pile of prechosen fabric inside their armoured casing(neatly tucked one presumes underneath the exterminator ray gun) ?

Did they have a range of fabrics to choose from and a good selection of swatches (one hopes that tweed was represented) ?

What happens if the weather proves inclement and they need a double worsted fabric instead of the gay and colourful linen that first caught their eye ?

Better still, as the hybrid Daleks emerge to the brighter new world, each stepping out for the first time in their new suits, each majestic and terrifying, which poor miscreant ruined it all by picking the 'Ben Elton' silver 80s fabric ?

Fashion is mightier than the stair after all.

Hmmm. Yes. Well. H&G are still debating the veracity of the bacon martini web site (see comment below). We're extremely pleased with the wordplay of "The Dickens", that much is certain.

In fact, the site raises several deeper philosophical quandaries: can one have too much of a good thing? Could cheese be added to the martini for further enhancement? Do the 3 rules of cookery apply also to beverages?

Dear readers, we are floundering in a soup of pontification; perhaps you can provide some answers?

A recent reader writes regarding the previous post 'but why have that when you could have a www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com - Much more up an English chap's street'.

We thank him or indeed her for their contribution and fully applaud any company dedicated to the celebration of the chaise longue. We are concerned however that tea should be the beverage of choice. Surely a straight up martinii, very dry, stirred with a twist would be a more preferable accompanyment to a pipe of light shag ?

Ah, if only H&G lived in America. Then we could join the Bacon Of The Month club.

Although not quite list-making in the the anger that it causes, a growing ire has been slowly building about one topic (albeit it for the more commuting half of H&G).

The subject - women who save their full makeup routine for the train journey to work.

Now, we used to be of the happy illusion that we either dated women with fantastic skin or that they were so excellent at applying their makeup it didn't really matter anyway. Either way - it remained a private affair. These harridan just don't realise that this public application exposes the masquerade for what it is - a wretched attempt to cover up burst blood vessels and greying sallow skin.

Work and health pressures have restricted the H&G output of late, however we return with the must play game of 2007. Formerly known as 'Druglord' the glories of the interweb revolution have allowed an update to allow realtime and free gaming. Choose your character, grow your drugs or hoes and then get down to the business of winning. Drugrunners.net is the Friday game of crime where this time it does pay. Currently posing as Timothy Claypole (a corporate businessman) and James Harries (an assassin) H&G have found much pleasure in wiping the floor with the collection of psuedo Pacino wannabees. You'll never forget buying your first gold tooth on the long road to prestige heaven !

H&G are rarely in awe of celebrities. Indeed as readers will note, most are considered the talentless spawn of Russel Brands least funny jokes, of which there are many.....
However in a rare exception to this rule we bring you the king of childhood science , Mr Johnny Ball.

In an age where the Planataaaarium has been replaced by Starworld (see earlier blog) nothing pleased us more than having a chat with the man who brought us 'Think of a number'. A show where the set was as creaky as Brian Ferrys hip joints but the joy of learning was always at the forefront.

Bravo sir.

While the chattering classes have been in near hysteria about the details of infamous NAPA incident (Needed to Avoid Pee Accident), where an enraged Liza Nowak drove 800 miles wearing an adult nappy rather than loose a few precious seconds to confront a love rival, we at H&G take a rather more benevolent view.

After all, any lady who elects to don a rakish wig and moustache for outer wear should be applauded rather than castigated - whatever the trouser exhalations beneath such attire.

Stop press : My Furry Alarm Clock hits now at 221,000 as of 1st February 17:49 GMT

The List

We're not sure when, or who we were with, but somebody once asked H&G's opinion of a certain celebrity during an otherwise convivial conversation. We don't even remember which celebrity it was (it's odds-on, however, that that person is mentioned below) and it doesn't matter; the reaction was the key issue, a catharsis if you will, and that reaction was a teeth-gritted, guttural growl: "Just give me ten minutes in a stuck lift with him...".

Friends, it tapped a latent homicidal belligerence which lurks untapped within us all. There are certain people out there - we'll concentrate on the famous here, as H&G don't know your immediate social circle - who need brutal, merciless execution. And friends, don't get all high-and-mighty about this, look within yourselves, and you will find a List lurks within you too. Please note: we were forced early on to disregard the stuck lift for certain murders as they required equipment which one does not find to hand in a lift.

A few tips on using the List and forming your own List:

1. Deciding on the Top Ten to feature within your List is nigh-on impossible. It's H&G ambition to set up a public voting system, either on this site or on another, where we can elevate and relegate those putrid specimens whom we all would extinguish, given even a quarter of a chance. If you know how we do this, please please please tell H&G in the comments section.

2. Deciding on the order of your Top Ten is similarly difficult. Yes, we really, really need a voting system.

3. The manner of death should suggest itself naturally, if you truly feel psychopathic hatred for the celebrity in question. These ideas will spring fully-formed to the mind and in graphic detail. You will feel warm inside and smiley on the outside at the visual imagery.

4. Do not be afraid of revealing your List: almost all social occasions are appropiate, and often the more awkward the situation, the better ice-breaker it is. As you will note, as you read H&G's List, everyone has their own List and are just waiting for the opportunity to share it. Alcohol does help. For example, The List is not recommended for first dates, should be used with caution on second dates, but is highly recommended for third dates, where the assocation between sex and death becomes extemely powerful.

Without any further ado, and not in any order:

Justin Lee Collins
Utterly talentless - the least funny comedian ever encountered who thinks his reminiscences on Space Hoppers and Spangles are insightful - and seems to think his West Country Wurzel accent and matching facial hair give him a free pass to be both ubiquitous and spirit-crushingly banal. A personification of the "I'm-wacky-me" bloke at a party who thinks he' s the most entertaining thing that ever happened, but is as pleasant to be around as a staple in the eyeball.

Method of Death: he will be crushed beneath an Industrial Press in the manner of the first Terminator. Except the press will move at near glacial speed, say two millimetres per day, so that it crushes that bumpkin whine out of his body as it turns his bones slowly to puree.

James Nesbitt
It's that bloody cheeky-chappie, twinkly-eyed, ho-ho-shillaylee-I'm Irish schtick that he does. No: you are not loveable, James; you are not sweet and vulnerable and charming; you are a one-trick pony whose trick was barely tolerable the first time (Cold Feet) and grown exponentially more tedious and irritating since. You, James, are to versatile character acting what George W. Bush is to particle physics.

Method of Death: Victorian iron railway spike to his giant forehead. Let's freeze that oh-I've-kissed-the-Blarney-stone look on his face for all eternity.

Vernon Kaye
I'll let one of H&G's heroes, Charlie Brooker, sum this one up:
"Vernon Kay is a one-man walking blight-on-our-culture, a dog-haired toby jug, a self-satisfied banality engine, a git, a twit, a twat and an oaf. He shouldn't be on television - he should be sitting on a country stile wearing a peasant's smock and chewing on a hayseed, some time during the Dark Ages and preferably at the height of the Black Death".
Charlie, it was your zenith.

Method of Death: Chased with a chainsaw and sliced up in stages.

Helen Hunt
You know how they say that you get the face you deserve when you reach forty? Her pinched, grim visage is living proof, friends. That uptight, nasal mewl of a voice, the posture that defaults to confrontational, hands-on-hips berating, the scowling, growling, frowning forehead. Everything about it - oh she is an it, friends - is pinched. Pinched like your rapidly winking rectum when you're in the car trying to hold in an attack of food poisoning.

Method of Death: One you can actually do in the lift! Should you get the chance, friends: a bare-hands beating. Nothing more satisfying than the crunch and squelch of a well clenched fist into yielding flesh and bone.

Russell Brand
Regular friends of the blog will know this pathetic specimen has previously featured. Such an elevated self-perception, so divorced from the cold, grey reality of the misery it causes to general humanity. He makes Niyazov - the recently deceased Turkmenistani despot - look like Jesus in one of his most modest and altruistic moods.

Method of Death: Well, it's a bit obvious, but if it feels good, do it: Brand gets his throat cut with his tongue pulled through the hole in the manner of "Columbian necktie". It mimics those scarfs he ties round his neck, you see.

Jeremy Clarkson
No need for a heartfelt, impassioned diatribe here. The man is just a 24 carat wanker. If you don't wholeheartedly agree, then you are too. This is not up for discussion.

Method of Death: Repeatedly buggered by numerous gay rugby teams. In front of his little Top Gear pals. Then we give him a few days in solitary confinement to think about it. Then we tell him his ordeal is over, the healing can begin and he may return to his family. Once outside on the street, he is run over by a speeding Citroen 2CV.

That's all for now, friends, but stay tuned because this list is dynamic and we'd like your suggestions...

A quick update on the My Furry Alarm Clock count on google:

as of noon GMT 23rd January the count is up to 12,800. Catch the fever and spread the word!

Advertising is a subject H&G known a little bit about. So it is with great pleasure we salute some of the finest copy known to man in the latest IAMS cat food TV ad. Yes, folks, it really does end with the line: "I can't get up in the morning without my furry alarm clock." This is in reference to a cat, ladies and gentlemen.

Already the ad has a cult - that is not a misprint - following on the interweb, with a search for the phrase yielding 6,310 hits on google at 15.14pm GMT today.

Honourable mention goes to Kandoo training nappy/pants whose "You are the Lord of the Loo" gets 400 odd hits. But really, Mr. and Mrs. client, are you seriously signing this stuff off? Can't you picture your creative agency chuckling behind your back?