Booker Prize introduces new “already famous off the telly” category

The Booker Prize, awarded every year to the writer who ticks the most diversity boxes - sorry, the best new work of literary fiction - announced today that it’s introducing a new category for writers who were only published because they already had a TV profile.

The Pre-Existing TV Profile Award, colloquially known as the “already famous off the telly” award, will be spilt into two categories - “slightly tongue in cheek cozy crime fiction” and “children’s books because really how hard can it be?”

Asked why they’re seemingly so dazzled by TV stars, one publisher (who asked to remain anonymous) replied 'Oh, we’re not, not at all. We know that most of it’s shit. But we also know the public will buy it just the same.

'You might as well ask west end producers why they think people off the telly are invariably the best actors. They don’t, they just know people will pay through the nose to see them.'

STOP PRESS: It’s just been announced that the first P-ETPA has been won by “The Boy Who Rushed Out A Ghostwritten Book To Cash In On Having Briefly Been In Hollyoaks.

Photo by Pj Accetturo on Unsplash

Channel 4 Announces New Reality Show: Don't Tell the Mother

From the producers of “Don’t Tell the Bride,” the hit reality show where adorably incompetent men take responsibility for planning their own weddings without their wives-to-be, comes the brand new concept: “Don’t Tell the Mother.”

This show follows first-time dads as they control every detail of their expectant partner’s birth plan, leaving everything a surprise until the big day.

Dave, a brick-layer with a tribal tattoo and too much confidence, planned a droll delivery for his partner Ellie by replacing all the midwives with Elvis impersonators and arranging for her to deliver on the pitch of his beloved Wembley stadium as he thought “it would be a laugh.”

28-year-old Michael might not know what an epidural is, but he does know the meaning of Epicurean—ok he doesn’t, but that didn’t stop him from pulling out all the stops and planning an Oktoberfest-themed birthing plan, glutted with tankards of Stella so he and his friends could wet the baby’s head before wife Char was 3cm dilated. As the drink and the amniotic fluid flowed, Micheal welcomed his son into the world to the serenading of a Bavarian Oompah band while Char’s perineum was sutured. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Despite viewing this japery as one final, light-hearted hurrah before the commitments of fatherhood, the mothers often fail to see the funny side. “When he insisted on cutting the umbilical cord with a replica of the Narsil sword from the Fellowship of the Ring, that’s where I drew the line,” 26-year-old Emily confesses, whose film-buff husband’s commitment to a Lord of the Rings themed delivery landed her and her infant daughter in the ICU. “He hired a Gandalf to be my doula. He kept referring to my crowning baby’s head as the Eye of Sauron and bellowing “You shall not pass!!” at any medical personnel who were trying to assist with the cord prolapse. And I’m not naming her Galadriel for f*cks sake.”

“People keep congratulating me on having my first baby,” Jane smiles, smearing an adult nappy in aloe vera and witch-hazel as her newborn howls at her breast. Husband Derek is rewinding after the stress of planning the big day. “But it’s not true; I’ve been a mother ever since I got married.”

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Unsplash

Great British Menu slammed 'pretentious, dangerous and out of control'

Chaos ensued on BBC’s cooking show Great British Menu, when one dish caused a major emergency and very nearly burnt the presenter and studio to the ground.

Contestant Paul Champion was recreating his much-praised: Ironic Vesuvius Erupting Amid Clouds of Compassion Caught Somewhere In Gran’s Fading Mind, paying homage to the NHS, when things went badly wrong.

'I had just sprinkled shavings of unicorn testicles over heritage irradiated purified wasp excrement and mouse snot powder, then fired up my WW2 army flamethrower to meld them together. But that's when things went a bit mental,' Paul said.

Unbeknown to him the lethal weapon was set on full power. Immediately a 30-foot jet of white-hot flame shot out, licking across presenter Andi Oliver's bottom and taking at least £250 off the value of her designer jump suit..

Safety officer, Reg Knaphill, who eventually brought the conflagration under control was less than impressed when speaking to reporters.

‘I am sick of it. Heston Blumenthal has a lot to answer for with this pretentious nonsense. What hell's wrong with a good old plate of ham, egg and chips?

Photo by Tali Despins on Unsplash