On the very last day of 2009 I contracted my first fucking cold of the year and found myself tucked up in bed by 9:30 p.m. feeling as rough as a Kerry Katona's nostrils. Perfect end to a shitty year I thought, but no, just to rub salt into the wounds of my wretchedness, I was awoken by the crack of fireworks as midnight struck and a voice on the TV that grates through me like a a plough through sand. Alan Fucking Carr.
What is supposed to be funny about him? I personally can't spot anything that makes me want to guffaw like his disillusioned audience. He can't tell jokes, isn't witty and doesn't seem to have punch-lines to his stories. Alan Carr is nothing more than just camp and to me, simply being camp is not funny. There is and have been some excellent camp comedians from Julian Clary, Larry Grayson, Kenneth Williams, John Inman and not forgetting the greatest of all, Frankie Howerd. They were brilliant because they knew how to be funny, whether it was from telling jokes, stories or just fantastic comedic timing. Alan Carr seems to rely on nothing put mincing about on stage being effeminate and talking shite. He calls himself 'Chatty Man', which in my opinion is all he does. Chat fucking inane unfunny rubbish.
No, I'm not homophobic. I have no problem with gays whatsoever, as long as they don't stick their parts in any of my orifices, and I don't mind camp either, but just being a poof isn't comedy in my eyes. What would make me laugh with Alan Carr though, would be to see him commit the ultimate in self-pleasure and piss off up his own arse.
And he looks like that twat out of the Banana Splits.
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