Celebrity Q&A

Saturday, 4^th April 2020

After putting a call-out on social media, I’ve literally been inundated with questions from the celebrity world so here it is…the First Punk Krow Celebrity Q&A.

[Disclaimer: all of the opinions in this piece belong to the Punk Krow and any similarity to actual celebrities is entirely deliberate. If anyone mentioned in it isn’t happy, then I will be shitting on their car and pecking out the eyeballs of their first-born. Happy reading!]

Q: I want my children to learn how to cook but so far it’s a disaster. Yesterday, I had all the ingredients ready for them to make a Double-Baked Cheese Souffle with Parmesan Cream but it came out looking and smelling like a turd, and the dessert – a Raspberry Spring Millefeuille – was just a red mess. I don’t know how to get the stupid fucking little cunts to get their shit together. Am I being too harsh or should I turn up my anger and really let them have it?

                Thanks, Gordon Ramsay, for your question. I think we’ve all been there, Gordon, with a rolling pin in one hand and a goblet of gin in the other, wondering why the little people are so utterly fucking useless. I don’t think you’re being too harsh. Have you considered that they might be bored with the dishes you are asking them to make and that the ‘turd’ they produced was their way of saying ‘Fuck you, dad’?

              Why not ramp things up a notch and get them to prepare for you a Roti Sans Pareil? If you first set them the task of setting traps for all the necessary birds (bustard, turkey, goose, pheasant, chicken, duck, guinea fowl, teal, woodcock, partridge, plover, lapwing, quail, thrush, lark, ortolan bunting, and garden warbler, one stuffed inside the other), then it will probably use up a whole day. I wouldn’t however, let them sneak a peek at L’almanach des gourmands (should you have it on your shelves), the 1807 cookbook written by Alexandre Balthazar Laurent Grimond de la Reyniere from which this derives. That would be cheating. Good luck, Gordon. Give 'em hell!

Q: I am not having as much fun now no-one is seeing my willy? Any suggestions?

                Thank you, Naked Rambler, for your enquiry. This requires some technical know-how and buying a bit of kit but if you can get yourself a green screen, a decent camera and tripod, and hack into the Zoom app, I don’t see why you can’t have a pretend naked romp, willy akimbo, through a landscape of your choosing and drop into some middle management virtual council meeting about who is going to cut the grass on the roundabouts during the pandemic. Should perk everyone right up, including your poor, neglected John Thomas.

Q: This isolation period has given me time to ruminate and I have come to the conclusion that selling Appetite Suppressing Lollipops via social media makes me a capitalist marionette, a mere conduit for the forces of consumerism.

            So, I have used my time to read some philosophy, and Kanye and myself have found ourselves bogged down in Hegel’s Dialectics. Kanye believes that the pandemic makes the implicit contradictions of life on this planet completely explicit and that this is a perfect example of Being and Nothing united as Becoming but I disagree. My personal interpretation is that the global virus demonstrates the finitude of the partial categories of understanding.                    Who’s right? Please help us out because if I can’t extricate myself from this existential conundrum, I’m going to have to go back to taking selfies of my arse.

Thanks to Kim Kardashian for a great question. Unfortunately, I won’t answer it because I get the sense that you’ve just copied bits of the Wikipedia page about Hegelian Dialectics to try and make yourself look clever and don’t actually know anything at all about it. Sorry.

Q: I recently had my teeth done and a bit of my face. Now I’m not on the telly all the time, my children are scared of me and run away when I try and give them a reassuring kiss and cuddle. What can I do?

           Poor you, Simon Cowell. Fortunately, I can answer this one. Sit yourself in a comfy chair and give each of your kids a hammer and some pliers. Then, let them ‘nudge’ your face back into its old shape with the hammers. Next, tell them they can pull out any teeth they don’t like the look of and put them under their pillows for the tooth fairy (as long as you haven’t delivered the ‘parenting truth’ speech from my last blog post). In next to no time, you’ll be feeling and looking like your old yellow-teethed, dough-y faced self.

Q: My younger wife disputes that I am ‘a silver fox’ and says that I am getting a bit chubby. How can I convince her that I am a suave, sexual predator and international spy? Also, isn’t your blog getting a bit self-referential when one blog post, or question like mine, clearly alludes to an earlier one?

             Well, Pierce Brosnan, that’s two questions, isn’t it? But this isn’t Tesco’s and I didn’t advertise this Q&A in the Hollywood Reporter as a 2-for-1 deal, but in the spirit of generosity and reaching out to our fellow man etc etc I will answer them both.

             First, it was the Daily Mail that called you ‘a silver fox’ because it’s read by old women who vote National Front and get their rocks off by imagining you sliding into their bedrooms like the Milk Tray man and rogering them like crazy on their Laura Ashley duvet set. Also, the Daily Mail isn't real; it's a comic for people who don’t like real news but do enjoy finding out that Heather Flack has let herself go by putting on 30g of bum fat’. I’m with your wife here: you were the worst, most wooden James Bond ever (and that’s saying something) and you are doomed to get older, greyer, fatter and more cognitively impaired from now until your end of days. Tomorrow Never Dies but you will.

          Secondly, the self-referentiality of my blog isn’t me disappearing up my own (perfect, non-chubby) arse but acts like a kind of reward for loyal readers who can go, ‘Oh yeah, I see what he did there; that was clever,’ like a comedian’s callback to a previous joke. Layers upon layers upon layers – like your muffin top!

Q: My boss won’t answer my calls and hasn’t responded to any of my Zoom invites. I am worried that he doesn’t love me anymore? What can I do?

            I am sure a lot of other people are in the same position as you, Jacob Rees-Mogg, so thanks for your question. Why not return to your old Eton days and revisit how you used to dress up as ‘Naughty Matron’ and tiptoe through the dark corridors to Bozza’s room. Imagine his delight when he sees you in his fever-dream, with your riding crop and suspenders. I’m sure he’ll have Mr Todger out of his pyjamas before you can say, ‘Proletariat benefit-leeches must die!’

Latest data for the UK (as of 10pm):

Infected: 41,903

Deaths: 4,313
Celebrity Deaths: 1 - Eddie Large

People I know who are infected: 3 (my boss, my teaching assistant, and another teaching assistant)

Song of the Day: ‘CoVideo Killed the Radio Star' – The Buggles

Okay, that’s a wrap folks. Hope you enjoyed that; I know I did. It’s good to hear that celebrities are battling with the same worries and fears afflicting us all. There will, I am sure, be another celebrity Q&A before too long because it appeals to the Punk Krow’s anarchist sensibilities.