Kerry Katona

Before I link you to what is an utter car crash of a television personality, I think it's about time I had something to say about her.

Celebrity culture has always been highly publicised and often abused, regardless of whether it is detrimental to the welfare of its focus of attention.

In the case of Kerry Katona, I can't think of a better case of the phrase "Car crash television".

Celebrities that are likened to her in terms of negative press are Britney Spears, Amy Winehouse and Pete Doherty.

Kerry Katona is worse than all of the above for three simple reasons.

1) She is a mother of at least three children. She might be hiding more in surrounding shrubbery or under flaps of skin she hasn't yet had tended to, but we'll soon find out about that in The Sun.

Amy Winehouse and Pete Doherty are solely responsible for their own degrading mental and physical state. Kerry has children to worry about, and isn't worried.

2) She's close to home. She's a British citizen, has a column in OK! magazine, a frankly abominable MTV show, and a sponsorship deal with lazy mum vending machine, Iceland.

This makes her more likely to be identified with. Your average pram-pushing sixteen year-old mother of forty-three is more likely to feel what she's going through, and she's therefore under more pressure to set an example.

3) She keeps denying it. Britney, Pete and Amy can't really deny their exploits. Kerry is still insisting (several months after declaring herself bankrupt) that she's absolutely fine, and that her kids are in perfectly capable hands.

This aside, judge her for yourself. We all reserve the right to do so, because it's not us.

Brilliant.

Kerry Katona drunk on This Morning with Fern and Philip.

Derive from this what you will.

My morning routine

It never goes to plan.

Even though my routine is exactly that, it is always a routine of regular mistakes and mishaps.

To illustrate this, I've collated a list of events that happen most mornings.

• Wake up, switch off the radio, sit up-right, and activate the same creaky spring that wakes my girlfriend up every morning.


• Put my slippers on whilst catching a sock, a t-shirt or some jeans in them in the process. This takes 20-25 seconds, even though they're slip-ons.


• Walk downstairs into the kitchen, and go to get the cereal. Rice Crispies. Promptly open the wrong cupboard. Open the right cupboard. Get the cereal, milk it, and go watch TV until 6:15.


• Get into the bathroom, and close the door. Realise the light switch is on the outside of the bathroom. Open the door. Turn on the light. Blind my dozing girlfriend. Close the door.


• Get naked. Turn on the shower, and step in. Only when my feet are wet, do I realise I've forgotten to get a towel.


• Get out of shower with wet feet. Go through (now naked and cold) to the airing cupboard to collect a towel.


• Get in the shower, now with said towel outside.


• Whilst washing with the soap, drop it at least twice at all costs.


• Hit my elbow against either the wall or the temperature guage, or both. This inevitably makes the water inhospitable because it's too hot, or too cold. Re-adjust. Hit it again. Re-adjust, and then drop the soap. Ad infinitum.


• Dry myself off and brush my teeth.

By now, my routine has worn off, and I'm awake enough to shake off the absent-mindedness and continue with the rest of my day.

I hope that next time you do something really stupid in the morning that you do quite regularly, you'll think of this blog, and curse me for being so darn observant.

The morning pee

It's one of those things cherished by man since time began. I myself feel like my day has begun after dragging my knuckles in a caveman-like fashion into the cold tiled floor of the bathroom and expelling some urine.

The trouble with the morning pee is that it's inevitably strong, and by the time you're finished the toilet bowl is an entirely different colour to when you started. Bright yellow / orange is not uncommon.

It was only last Saturday that I indulged in the usual past-time of going for the morning pee, and in the usual fashion (Ladies may or may not be aware of this, and dudes may or may not do it) I grab a bit of toilet paper to ensure a dry appendage and prevent cough leakage. cough

Unfortunately, today's morning pee was to be anything but routine. I finished the pee, and reached for the toilet paper as I do every other morning, except that this morning produced radically adverse results.

I knocked the toilet paper without actually picking it up.

The roll isn't a full roll, but it's got a fair bit of paper left on it, and it'll go for the rest of the weekend between a family of five.

It's tilting forward, and all I can do is watch utterly dumbstruck and numb as the toilet paper teeters over the edge of the cistern, and tilts toward the edge.

I watch in slow motion as the roll falls from the cistern and bounces around the toilet seat, almost teasing me. It circles the toilet seat before rolling off of the seat, and into the bright yellow / orange bowl.

A conscious look of horror engulfs my face as I realise what is taking place.

I am given an ultimatum.

I can either reach in and get it now, or I can watch it disintegrate and block up the toilet, causing even worse results.

The choice is a simple one. I reach into the urine-infested toilet and drag out the (now yellow) toilet paper, rinse it under the sink to rinse it off, dump it in a bin-bag, and take it outside.

A loo roll, and my confident ability to flush out the morning pee are now both dead.

Sometimes you just know that your day isn't going to work out.