Antony Worrall-Thompson to host new week-nightly chat show “Ready…Steady…TALK!”

29 03 2012
Antony Worrell-Thompson towards the end of his talk show

"Tonight my guests will be Micheal McIntyre, Victoria Cohen and Joseph Kony.......DANCE FOR ME, MY CHICKENS, DANCE!"

Addressing the need for a British answer to the week nightly late night talk shows such as Conan O’Brien and Jimmy Kimmel, beleaguered gastronaut and criminal genius Antony Worrall-Thompson  has stepped up to the crease.

Each guest has to bring cheese and wine to his interview-throne before the conversation starts. So much bounty is brought by guests to garner the interest of Worrall-Thompson that a pile of uneaten cheese and wine grows behind him day by day and week by week until his gorged and jaded palette nudges him further into belligerence and madness.

As the endless parade of entertainment hopefuls and showbiz luvvies are brought before him with their rehearsed anecdotes and desperate faces his eyes grow darker and darker until one can no longer tell where they are under the crusty, ginger,  judgmental-cheese sweat. Ever expanding like a kitchen-white clad Nero, Antony becomes hell-bent on his own destruction while trying to obscure his rancid bulk with the illicit pile of shop-lifted trinkets and baubles brought in tribute to him every show.
 By the end of the year and in the most infamous episode Worrall-Thompson interviews Micheal McIntyre about his new sitcom “What’s The Deal With Airline Food?” while wearing only a nappy,a crown made of cheese and sitting on a raised dais of silk sheets draped over piles of luxury meats. McIntyre attempts to catch the interest of the bloated gourmand but overindulged with food and wine Antony is instead distracted by the sight of two despondent grandmas from Hull, nude and wrestling with a 17 inch dildo in a tattered paddling pool full of brown jelly.
The plump matriarchs from the bitter North roll desperately around the goo filled pool while straining to violate each other with the shiny black sex toy (as per the terms of their contract.) Though clearly audible and occasionally drowning out the drones of chit-chat the tragic spectacle is kept off camera despite Antony’s attention being focused upon the ladies rather than his guest.
  A small splatter of the brown jelly lands on McIntyre’s expensive tailored suit to the comedian’s discomfort while he attempts to relate a story about his hysterical difficulty in opening a carton of tetra-pak orange juice. For the first time in the interview Antony’s attention is brought upon the struggling and repulsed McIntyre and the distended mass of the former chef shudders with guffaws at the ridiculous spectacle.
  Worrall-Thompson wipes his pleasure from the side of his mouth with a £50 note then beckons his wretched minion of a production assistant to lead Micheal McIntyre off stage so he can watch the Hull-maidens more intensely. More wine is brought to him and olive oil is smeared onto his shiny buttocks so he can move into a more comfortable position.
(With thanks to Jamie “Bomber” Blanche)
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