Ooooh-kay...

I’d thought that Janet Street-Porter was only obnoxious, self-obsessed and incredibly annoying.  I hadn’t realised that she is also bat-shit fucking insane.

When one female columnist decided to take me to task for appearing on I'm A Celebrity ...Get Me Out Of Here! she made a huge issue out of the fact I apparently have cellulite. Get a life, love!  I had a large picture of her printed, tore it into tiny pieces and mailed it to her home address, with a note saying I was concerned, as she clearly needed psychiatric help…

In the end, though, God has a neat way of dealing with revenge  -  it's called natural death.

So I was spared the need to deal with Kenny Everett (his horrible impersonation of me really rankled over the years and was frequently repeated, just to rub salt in the wound).

Unlike his fans, I did a little dance of joy around the kitchen when he finally departed.

So… mad as a box of frogs, and thoroughly unpleasant to boot.  Who’d have thought it?