Welcome to the Evil Breakfast News. I am Mister and this is what’s happening in the world today (and over the past few weeks when I haven’t posted anything. Apologies for that, but I’ve been busy).
Dum dum dun dunnn dum dum duh dunduh (no, that’s not supposed to sound like the Gargamel part of the Smurfs theme song, it’s meant to be a news theme).
Our opening story today takes us to ye olde Englande, where scientists claim to have found the answer to one of life’s great questions:
For billions of years, people have wondered how a chicken could exist, since it must come from an egg. That egg, though, must have come from a chicken. So what’s the deal? How did all of this craziness begin? These noble giants of the scientific community have given us the answer: the chicken was first.
Researchers have found that a protein called ovocleidin (OC-17) is crucial in the formulation of eggshells, and it is produced in the pregnant hen's ovaries. Ergo, henceforth, thusly, the chicken was first.
Except they haven’t: But the researchers have not yet managed to answer how the protein-producing chicken existed in the first place… which kind of makes their previous statement of having “solved” the question fairly redundant. It would be like me saying, “I have cleaned my shower. Except for all the mould and pubes and soap scum.” Don’t mind me while I await new developments in the science world before handing over your Nobel Peace Prize, lads. I’m hoping that the guy who mashed blue and yellow Play-Doh together to make green has something new up his sleeve.
More in science news: British scientists are wasting everyone’s time, and I need to clean my shower.
It happens to the best of us sometimes
I’m assuming that BP have never seen a bottle cap before. If you have a bottle of water and you take the lid off and turn the bottle over, the water will come out. If you put the lid on, the water will stop flowing out. After watching oil flog out of a great big hole, it has just occurred to them to try to “cap” it. Captain Planet is weeping in his giant blue house and scrubbing penguins as we speak.
In entertainment news, Hey Hey It’s Saturday is still shit.
A couple of years after being axed from Channel 9 after twelve million years of being a shit tv show, even for Australian audiences in the 80s and 90s, it was brought back for the audience of 2010. One can only assume that it returned so host Daryl Somers could finally finish telling a joke, laughing at it himself and then explaining it to the crowd, be interrupted by the dickhead in the voice-over booth and be upstaged in the personality stakes by a pink ostrich puppet.
Here’s how to fix Hey Hey in 3 (ish) simple steps:
1. Put it on a fucking Saturday or change its fucking name. The fucktard in charge of plonking this on a Wednesday should go back to England and be put in charge of solving chicken and egg mysteries.
2. Make it an hour-long show. It’s hard enough watching Dazzler struggle through a single segment, but when he stretches it out for two hours, it’s just fucking painful. Better yet, get rid of him. Better yet, get rid of everyone who had a part in this show, the last show and is thinking about being involved in any future shows. Especially the duck.
3. Keep the ostrich.
In recent news, Lindsay Lohan has been described as “a Hollywood star.” That is all.
In sport, the Australian cricket team collapsed quite horribly to be all out for fuck all and nothing against a very ordinary Pakistan team. This wasn’t entirely unexpected, considering their last match was saved by two of the worst cricketers Australia has produced in the past trillion years, Shane Watson and Marcus North. The state of Australian cricket has fallen so far that no one is even bothering to call for the captain, Ricking Ponting, to be sacked. And that, my dear readers, is a hard fucking time for us all.
This makes me sick