Preston’s Walk Out on Never Mind The Buzzcocks
Simon Amstell began to read from Chantelle Houghton‘s book Living The Dream: "I’ve always loved M&S, but it had always been too expensive for me. The photoshoot made me feel very posh and upmarket." As the audience tittered, it was the final straw for Samuel Preston, gennulman and knight of the round table. He leapt from his chair with as much dignity as he could muster (in this case, none) and walked off the set in the manner of Dick Emery‘s "you are awful but I like you" woman. The Never Mind The Buzzcocks audience members gasped as his rear-view revealed he had no arse at all to speak of.
Preston’s problem is he has a chip on his shoulder about his colossally stupid wife. He believes (correctly) that we all know she’s colossally stupid and consequently believes that every comment about her is obliquely referring to her colossal stupidity. He is a middle-class boy so desperate to adopt working-class culture that he left his lovely sophisticated French girlfriend to marry the kind of girl he thinks we all marry – a soppy salt-of-the-earth with a heart of gold and a brain of marshmallow.
“With his glittery cardigan and tiny, tiny frame he looked like a contestant on Mini Pops, Channel Four’s doomed paedogeddon lip synch farce.”
Looking like Bryn, the village mong from The District Nurse, he tried to ice grill Amstell several times but he looked 12 years old and just served to emphasize the fact that his nipples outweigh the rest of his body by several ounces. With his glittery cardigan and tiny, tiny frame he looked like a contestant on Mini Pops, Channel Four‘s doomed paedogeddon lip synch farce.
Some have characterised his actions as gallantry and they’re nothing of the sort. He knows he married a shallow, vapid twat and is understandably embarrassed about it. Given that all she does all day is polish his forehead and sell various parts of their private life to tabloid and gossip magazines she’s got to expect some negative publicity once in a while and her minute mong boy husband has got to suck it up also.
"Presturd plainly thinks we should treat his wife like a handicapped child, unable to fend for herself and Chanturd has certainly spent her life cultivating this image."
Presturd plainly thinks we should treat his wife like a handicapped child, unable to fend for herself and Chanturd has certainly spent her life cultivating this image. She’s always been the ditzy girl all in a tizz, twirling her hair, waiting for the big strong clever man to come along and get her out of a pickle. She’s famous for no reason at all and his band are so depressingly pointless they can barely be said to exist. You simply can’t trust a man with no lips and no arse.
“As for Presturd’s claim that he was about to punch Simon Amstell – does anybody seriously think he’d try that if Mark Lamarr were still host?”
And as for Presturd’s claim that he was about to punch Simon Amstell – does anybody seriously think he’d try that if Mark Lamarr were still host? Amstell, as ever, handled the situation excellently. You’d never really call him a professional looking presenter but, despite being obviously rattled by the incident, he pulled it through, aided by a Preston lookalike Bill Bailey dragged from the audience to complete the show.
Presturd insists he is not embarrassed by the clearly embarrassing broadcasting of his strop.
"I think it’s brilliant – at least I’ve got principles. No one’s got principles any more," said the publicity whore celebrity wedding photo selling cunt. Presturd can fuck himself in the ear all day every day and so can his parasite wife.
The best thing about it: Simon Amstell
The worst thing about it: Humourless mong boy with the Mister Sheen forehead
The verdict on Preston’s Walk Out on Never Mind The Buzzcocks: Worthless celebrity collapsing under its own weight.
Marks out of 10: 8