Jeremy Kyle

Every morning, mid-toast, my breakfast is interrupted by a man who physically makes my piss fizz. A man who my mother loves, exploits the lower class, has the IQ of a garden snail, but still takes it upon himself to rid Britain of their problems via a third rate talk show. You know who I'm talking about, its Jeremy Kyle.

Essentially, the programme is a hybrid. A modern day freak show, within an amphitheatrical auditorium ideal for the gladiators to fight it out, with Jezza getting the final decision as to who's right and who's wrong . Guests are scooped up off a council estate in Toxteth, paraded around the stage, angered and then left to fight it out...at which point Jezza will sit on the step, and utter those infamous words..."This show doesn't condone any violence, now apologise."

The audience (gods waiting room) then marvels in ore as the messiah himself "Graham Stainer," the shows psychologist emerges from backstage, and rather than turning water into wine, offers his pearls of wisdom, "You cant help someone who doesn't want to be helped"...no shit Sherlock, are they actually paying you for this first class psychological analysis?

Whats most shocking is the programmes target audience. OAP's, students, and of course, those who he is exploiting, the dole rats sat on their sofa picking their arse laughing as Jezza screams "Who pays for your weed? us the tax payer."

Who payed for your brother Neils smack Jezza? Why don't we bring him on the show and sigh as he bends over and shows us his skid marks? Why exploit these people and then offer them help...just give them bloody help.

And so much for their "aftercare team." What about Rebbecca langley? Where was her aftercare? After appearing on the show she wasn't even contacted, just beaten by her boyfriend who fractured her eye socket. I thought you cared Superjez?

Even the shows former producer Charlotte Scott acknowledges the shows ethical issues:
‘Guests are wound up like a coiled spring. It is an integral part of preparations - a process, sanctioned by the show’s editors, called “talking up”. The whole show is designed to produce a gladiatorial-style exchange.’

But lets not forget, our Jezza's a nice chap, as every now and again he gets into "mufty" and hits the streets, visiting leukemia suffering children like Santa, offering them an action man, or the new Barbie bubble bike..."Thank you so much sir, you're such a wonderful human being...but whats your name?...My name doesn't matter...just know that I'll be here for you wherever you go...Jeremy Kyle."

When will this hypocritical tosser realise that the day he does indeed resolve every social domestic problem in Britain is the day he's out of a job. It's with this point alone that re-enforces the notion that the only reason he hosts such bear bating is for ratings and cash.

So lets all raise a glass to Jeremy Kyle, the man who ruins my breakfast, ruins daytime TV and ruins lives. TWAT.