Fu­neral mis­ery was good prac­tice for Bill

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FANNY or arse­hole?

That was the big ques­tion on Chan­nel 4’s Hit The Road Jack, when posh comic Jack White­hall stuck his arm up a cow but was un­sure which ori­fice he had en­tered.

Well, I have done some re­search and can give you a de­fin­i­tive an­swer – arse­hole.

As in Jack White­hall, the arse­hole, stuck his hand up a cow’s ori­fice.

He was in the West Coun­try, which might ex­plain why the show was like a Cor­nish pasty – full of bol­locks and filler.

He did do a good gag about mor­ris danc­ing, though, which he had been forced to learn at school.

“Do you know how hard it is to get girls when you do mor­ris danc­ing?” he asked. “You can’t even creep up on them be­cause they can hear the f***ing bells!”

It fea­tured Ricky Ger­vais play­ing a bad car­i­ca­ture in a naff cos­tume, par­rot­ing the un­funny catch­phrase “Are you avin’ a laugh? Is he avin’ a laugh?!” Well, that garbage looks like

com­pared to Ger­vais’ new and non-de­lib­er­ately ter­ri­ble com­edy on Chan­nel 4.

Derek ( is a so­cial mis­fit with a heart of gold who helps out in a geri­atric care home. He has a sh*t life, loves a woman he will never get, and his friends are mainly the care home res­i­dents who keep dy­ing.

And, erm, that is about it. So, was I ‘avin’ a laugh? No. Not once. DARK times for Ever­ton FC owner Bill Ken­wright.

First his beloved Tof­fees lose to Liver­pool in the FA Cup semi­fi­nal. Then his on-screen Coro­na­tion Street mum Betty Wil­liams pops her clogs.

To be fair, the FA Cup re­sult was more shock­ing than the pint-pulling pen­sioner’s demise.

We all knew that Betty was bound to be writ­ten out since ac­tress Betty Driver died last year. But who would have guessed that use­less lump Andy Car­roll could score for Liver­pool when it mat­tered?

Ken­wright, who played Betty’s bas­tard son Gor­don Clegg i n the 1960s, re­turned to the cob­bles to break the sad news.

He was good at cry­ing – you get a lot of prac­tice when you fol­low Ever­ton – but Gor­don seemed a bit of a drip. It was hard to be­lieve that such a wet blan­ket could spring from the loins of a tough old bird like Betty.

He was thick as two short planks as well. The daft sod thought his mam might like to be buried in London. Yeah, right. And maybe Bill Ken­wright wants his ashes scat­tered in the An­field Kop.

To make mat­ters worse, he kept go­ing on about “casse­role”. Oi, Gor­don, it is called “hot­pot” round here, ya big soft, shandy-drink­ing, south­erner! Betty was liv­ing with Gor­don when she died. He said she’d been read­ing a book called Five Chil­dren And It, which I’ve never heard of but pre­sume it is about the Bat­ters­bys.

The news sent shock­wave around Weather­field. Rita even closed the Kabin “as a mark of re­spect”, which puts Kim JongIl’s state fu­neral to shame.

It will be in­ter­est­ing to see what name they put on the grave stone. She has been Betty Wil­liams since 1995 but to me and you she’ll al­ways be Betty Turpin.

And, by the way, who­ever sets the drinks prices in the Rovers – Ken is now pay­ing £1.85 for a half! – should al­ways be known as Dick Turpin.

PO­LICE re­lease them! Su­ranne’s got lovely knock­ers

in DO you re­mem­ber

the de­lib­er­ately ter­ri­ble sit­com

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