ONE YEAR; FORTY ARTICLES; TWENTY-TWO PARODIES; THIRTY-ONE DOWNLOADS; TWENTY-NINE MIDI FILES; FIFTY-SEVEN IN-JOKES; TWELVE ORIGINAL OPINIONS; ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT STOLEN JOKES AND IDEAS; THREE READERS ENTERTAINED

As those of you with a basic grasp of reading may have understood from the title, Squidy's Website was first uploaded on May the eleventh, which (depending on when you read this) is more or less a year ago to the day. Quite a milestone indeed, and where better to celebrate it than on the page itself (especially since no-one on any other webpages could care less)?

A brief history: Squidy's Website was first uploaded on the morning of Friday the 11th of May 2001 where it was instantly hailed as an innovative new format of comedy by absolutely nobody. Back then I hadn't yet mastered the basic arts of HTML, gif formatting, or indeed comedy so the first version was a little rough around the edges, as you can see below:

The problems are clear to see: Spaced is actually quite good, and TV Go Home isn't funny at all.

Well, that was the history. I told you it was brief. Did you enjoy it? Oh, suit yourself.

To celebrate this very special anniversary and as a super special treat for his dedicated readers, I am going to take you both behind the scenes (oo-er!) and show you extracts from my semi-fictional diary to show how one of Squidy's ace satirical online attacks come into being, using in this case the famed article 'What Would It Look Like If Private Eye Were To Do A Spoof Of Peter Sissons' Tie?'. Let's go back to earlier this year, shall we? Yes.:

10.00pm, 14th February 2002: Slightly depressed about receiving no Valentine's Day cards and very depressed to learn that The Framley Examiner has got a book contract, Squidy decides to cheer himself up by watching the new series of Cry Wolf, which Derek Nimmo announced as being on tonight in an interview with Sir Mickey Dolenz and Pope Kevin Eldon XVII on GMTV yesterday. Unfortunately, this was only one of Squidy's fever dreams, brought on by a Marmite overdose. In actuality Squidy tunes into the BBC News. Deciding not to waste this opportunity he promises to write a satirical article about something on tonight's news for his website.

10.28pm, 14th February: After 28 minutes of silence, Squidy finally makes a remark about Michael Burke's tie being "a bit chintzy". He smiles smugly and makes a 'Power to the people' salute. In such high anarchic spirits, Squidy decides that the time is right to lead an imperial uprising and TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!!

10.29pm, 14th February: Squidy mutters "fuck it" and goes to bed.

10.35pm, 14th February: ... after the weather, obviously. "Michael Fish's tie is a bit chintzy," thinks Squidy, nodding knowingly at his own back-reference.

1.43am, 15th February: Unable to sleep, Squidy rediscovers an old edition of Private Eye from December 2001. The cover has a large picture of Gordon Brown and his wife looking down at the incubator that contains their dying baby Jennifer. Their speech bubbles read thus:

Chuckling, Squidy falls into a deep sleep with a brilliant comic invention running around his head. Unfortunately, when he wakes up it's long forgotten so he chooses to write this Private Eye thing about ties.

10.45am, 16th February: Excited about the Private Eye article, Squidy spends all day working on it, giving the page a purple background and making a really nice title using MS Paint. He promises himself that he will have it online by March the 31st. That gives him plenty of time to write some topical jokes for the piece.

2.36pm, 17th February: Squidy attempts to do some research for the article on the world wide interweb, global database of encyclopedias, but is enormously slowed down by someone on Audiogalaxy attempting to download from off his machine an mp3 of Arthur Mullard singing 'Yesterday'. He decides to do the research first thing tomorrow.

9.02am, 18th February: Squidy watches first series Bewitched and ponders on the colourisation techniques used.

9.28am, 18th February: Freshly beBewitcheded, Squidy attempts to do some research for his article. Unable to scan pictures in without making them look like a bowl of spaghetti hoops, he is forced to use the internet to find something appropriate. A quick Google search for "Michael + Burke + tie" comes up with over twenty-seven thousand sites, all of which are in some way pornographic. Squidy decides to look through them all. Just in case.

23.25pm, 18th February: Tired of masturbation, Squidy decides to chat with some Comedy Forum regulars on the #IRC chatroom for the first time. They are all cretins, discussing the best types of beer and swapping spunk jokes. Squidy wonders if he'll fit in.

1.56am, 19th February: After a long night's chatting with his new soul mates, Squidy decides to do some proper research. He will not move from this computer until he's produced a rough draft for the article.

4.09pm, 20th February: Squidy wakes up, his keyboard embedded in his face. He has been asleep all day and has drooled several pints of spittle into his laptop's built-in speakers. He wakes just in time to see another episode of 'The Monkees For Spastics' on CITV (or Star Street as it's known), and will almost certainly go to Hell for the naughty, George Michaelesque thoughts in his head as Thalia Zucchini does a pelvic thrust during the video for Bump In The Night. Unfortunately, her name is pronounced 'Tyler' and this prevents Squidy from ever having sexual relations with her, for he is permanently reminded of top radio comedy-producing Jewboy David Tyler, and is scared that at the point of orgasm he will scream "Why didn't It's A Mad World World World World ever make it to series?".

1.52am, 21st February: Squidy can not sleep because of All Stars' Bump In The Night running around his head. He ponders if this is God's punishment for the naughty thoughts he felt earlier but doesn't ponder for too long as he marvels at the simplistic magnificence of the line "It's very Scooby Doo". Cor. Beat that, Cole Porter.

3.47am, 21st February: Shortly after he gets to sleep, Squidy is woken by a telephone call. It is Cole Porter, responding to the challenge that Squidy set earlier. He has written a long boring musical entirely in Yiddish entitled "Tallit Like It Is", in which he manages to rhyme the words 'chutzpah' and 'footspa'. "Aw, truly you are a better composer than CITV's All Stars," opines Squidy, "I was a tragically mistaken fool to think otherwise". "Too bloody right, mate," spouts Porter. "Now just try and beat that, ya speccy cunt, I'm off back up to Heaven to get butt-fucked by Rock Hudson". What a class act.

11.32am, 22nd February: Squidy gives up on the 'Private Tie' article for the time being and, inspired by Cole Porter's words, decides to write a song to the tune of Faith based on the rumour he heard about George Michael's conversion to Judaism. Well, he didn't so much hear it as make it up, and it isn't so much a rumour as a lie. But, y'know, just in case:

Halfway through creating a Photoshop-style picture of Faith-period George Michael wearing a kippur and tefilin, Squidy is hit with the sudden realisation that he will never become pope.

1.52pm, 23rd February: Squidy becomes pope. No, just joking.

3.14pm, 24th February: Here's a rumour on The Comedy Forum that the next Brass Eye Special will be about formicidiphiles. This is dismissed as "flippant bollocks".

4.12pm, 26th February: Squidy listens to his bootleg cassette of Flanders And Swann Get The Horn: "I'm a gnu, you facking cunt!"

7.15pm, 27th February: Whilst flipping through the new Publish And Bedazzled, Squidy clocks that his Peter Cook picture is printed alongside piccies by other morons, cretins and, oddly, Joseph Champniss off Some Of The Corpses Are Amusing. There's no point reprinting the whole thing, but the gist of it is:

Hmmm, not bad. Better than expected, and than deserved.

12.34pm, 28th February: Squidy contemplates working on the Morons From Outer Space article, before shrugging his shoulders and watching the Who Shot Alan B'stard? special for the umpteenth time.

13.87am, 29th February: Squidy wakes up on a day that doesn't exist. Confused by the paradoxes of the space-time continuum, he goes back to sleep. When he wakes tomorrow he will finish the 'Peter Sissons' article.

12.00am, 1st March: Squidy remains asleep. All day.

4.13pm, 2nd March: Squidy decides to finish the article today. "After all," he states, "seize the day, grab the moment, smash the state, never put off until tomorrow what you put off yesterday, that's what I always say". Unfortunately, by the time he's always finished saying it it's time for bed: quarter past four in the afternoon. Squidy watches Star Street and then goes to bed. To sleep, you filthy-minded Yoakums.

3.49am, 3rd March: Squidy decides that now is the time to work long and hard on the article (the only thing that is long and hard at ten to four in the morning). He refuses to turn off his computer until it's finished.

3.53am, 3th March: Squidy's fucking laptop crashes and has to be rebooted from scratch, deleting everything from his hard drive. Bloody God. Why won't He give us free will already!

2.37pm, 4th March: During the rebooting, Squidy listens to his favourite comedy album, Derek And Clive (Lite): "What's the worst job you ever had?" "Well, I was a caretaker once...".

7.30pm, 4th March: The rebooting spectactularly fails to work and it has to go to the shop to be repaired. Squidy decides to do it tomorrow. Tonight, he goes to the Tavern's monthly meet-up and listens to a bunch of homosexuals talking about Doctor Who for four and a half hours. He doesn't understand a single word, although it does give him an idea for a music spoof called 'Shada On The Dancefloor' by Sophie Aldred-Bextor.

11.19am, 5th March: Squidy takes his laptop in to be repaired. The computer shop can be found on Tottenham Court Road between a gay club, The Semen Mixer, and a fancy fish restaurant, Addicted To Bass.

5.42pm, 5th March: Worried about his laptop, Squidy decides to draw mustaches over all the faces in the 1995 Spotlight to alleviate the tension. Male character actors, E to K.

5.44pm, 5th March: Oh bollocks, that's already been done. Oh well, on to L to R.

8.50am, 6th March: Squidy receives a phone call: His laptop is broken because of excess saliva in the system. What, asks Squidy sarcastically, is a suitable amount of saliva to be in the system? Ten ounces he is told, shortly before hearing that the laptop will be ready in slightly over a week and cost the price of a small horse. Depressed, Squidy spends the whole day listening to Crystal by New Order on a loop. He writes a Thin Blue Line parody five years too late, and calls it (in the best MAD Magazine tradition) "The Thing's Below Fine":

11.23am, 8th March: Squidy buys the latest single by The Dandy Nichols, "Bohemian Like Moo", as well as the new album Clodagh Rodgers Sings George Michael's Freeek! To The Tune Of Jack In The Box, which features Clodagh Rodgers singing George Michael's Freeek! to the tune of Jack In The Box: "I'll... be... your... sexual freak, yes, your sexual freak, I'll be your sexual freak, offfff the week...". He strategically avoids buying Elton John's latest single, Candle In The Eye, released as a tribute after the tragic death of Guest House Paradiso.

3.14pm, 8th March: While listening to Clodagh Rodgers Sings A Really Contrived Joke, Squidy discovers the hidden meaning in George Michael's Freeek!. Listen to this middling couplet: "You got yourself a big bed. You shoot off but take your time. In a house with a bitch and a mouse, and your daddy's plastic, how fantastic, yeah". It's so obvious, isn't it: It's about Mary, Mungo And Midge! Isn't it! It isn't? Oh, all right then. That's the lazy nostalgia element out the of way anyway. I never even saw Mary, Mungo And Midge. I wasn't even born until twelve years after it finished. Willo The Wisp, now there's a different story. And those edited Muppet Show repeats in 1987, those were what I was into, even though most of the phrases were incomprehensible to a six year old. "Down with the empire!" and "Who's your tailor, I love your outfit!", stuff like that. I laughed anyway. Hang on, aren't I meant to be writing this in the third person? Shit shit shit...

11.28pm, 9th March: Still depressed about his lacking of laptopping activities, Squidy attempts to get in to the Guiness Book of Records for highest amount of chocolate Nutella spread injected into a single vein. By the third needleful things are going well.

2.13am, 10th March: In hospital, Squidy, doped-up to the eyeballs, has a dream about Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot, who are wearing headphones and singing:

3.05pm, 10th March: Squidy discharges himself. This disgusts the nurses, who send him home.

9.05am, 11th March: Victor Lewis-Smith is away.

2.00pm, 12th March: How many Derek Slees does it take to change a lightbulb? Four: One to deliver a incomprehensible two hour-long lecture about the physics of the bulb, one to do a really poor pun on the word 'lightbulb' that his class all have to laugh at politely, one to say something tantilisingly interesting about Kenny Everett but not to follow it up, and one to actually change the fucking lightbulb at the end of term when no-one could really give a shit whether they sit in the dark or not.

11.35pm, 13th March: Channel Five shows a Jewish porn film. Entited Rosh Hardonah, it's about a rabbi who blows his chauffeur during the high holy days. It not as good as the last porn film Squidy viewed, The Tell-Tale Spunk, based loosely on Edgar Allen Poe's erotic short story only subtituting jism for the heart that won't stop ticking. Only instead of ticking, it just smells. (Squidy ponders sending all this to Charlie Brooker...)

10.38am, 14th March: Ten days on, and Squidy's computer is up and running. After checking his e-mail for penile enhancement ads, he looks in on The Comedy Forum to see if any interesting discussions have taken place during the past ten days.

10.39am, 14th March: Nothing.

10:40am, 14th March: Nothing.

10:42am, 14th March : Still nothing.

10:44am, 14th March: Nope, not a thing.

10:48am, 14th March: Ah, here's something interesting. A minor discussion has emerged over the alleged paedophilic activities of Chris Morris. It is suggested that he married one of the Mini-Pops. I correct them and say that he actually married one of The Millies. I am ignored as moss says something about the resurgance of wanking in children's television programmes.

10:49am, 14th March: Nothing.

10:30pm, 15th March: Squidy watches a new television show called Schizo Graham Norton. After years of using the Victor Lewis-Smith interview technique of 'Starts All High Then Goes All Low', Graham Norton has finally flipped and is now suffering from multiple personalities, as opposed to the none he used to have. Take a butchers at an extract from a recent interview with Joan Collins: "So, Joan, you're 63. 63!!! And may I just say, you look absolutely fabulous!!! Actually, no. You look like a DOG'S ARSE!!! TAKE A LOOK AT YOURSELF, WOMAAAAAN!!!! You look wonderful, Joan, but YOU'RE ALMOST AS OLD AS PRINCESS MARGARET!!! GET A HOLD OF YERSELF, YOU DAFT COW!!!! Still, that said, thank you for coming on the show and good luck with the book!!!". Actually, no, nothing of the sort happened. It was just a piece of throwaway whimsy. Enfuckingjoy.

2.52pm, 16th March: Here's a rumour on The Comedy Forum that the BBC are making a new series of Blackadder called Blackadder MI5. A script extract reads:

This is dismissed as "sub-Elton and Curtis drivel".

8.13pm, 17th March: Squidy's "Chris Morris married one of The Millies" remark is attributed to Ash Buchanan, and nobody can go back and check due to Rob S's "Show previous 25 posts" nonsense.

3.15pm, 18th March: Starved of ideas, Squidy goes to his self-penned Big Book Of Jewish Jokes (a.k.a. "Jewish? You Don't Look Funny"), which can reproduced here for the first time in it's entirety:

Although as yet unpublished, David Baddiel is rumoured to have a bootlegged copy of Squidy's Big Book Of Jewish Jokes in his possession. Although it's said he lent it to Frank Skinner who never gave it back, the tight-fisted hook-nosed Shylock.

6.18pm, 19th March: Squidy resists using the phrase "webshite" for the 311st day in a row.

7.00pm, 20st March: Squidy goes to see Josie Lawrence on stage in The King And I. Very odd. During 'Getting To Know You' she shouted out to the audience to "name a household object" and ended up doing a country-and-western song about a toothbrush.

4.06pm, 21th March: A thirteen-year old girl nicknamed Millie goes missing. Due entirely to the ignorance of the Comedy Forum, Chris Morris is blamed and is burnt in a giant wicker phallus, ho ho, oh the irony.

12.56pm, 22nd March: Squidy overhears Rik Mayall and Adrian Edmonson in Tesco's:

This reminds him of something he heard last August:

This page is now officially an amnesty for old jokes. Just hand them in, no questions asked.

11.06pm, 24nd March: Squidy thinks about changing the name of his site to "The people behind Need To Know are a bunch of fascist bastards who wouldn't understand comedy if Peter Cook fucked them anally with a dildo made from melted down region one DVDs of Monty Python's Flying Circus" in a pathetic and desperate attempt to finally get his site noticed by them. It's the single worst idea he had sinced he changed the metatags on the index page to read "HARDCORE XXX TEEN SLUTS, FREE FREE FREE!!!" as opposed to "john cleese, the rutles, top of the pops, crossword" like it used to read.

9.05pm, 25th March: After a pleasant week's running for a minor television pilot, Squidy has an idea to turn various comical ideas that may have happened to him on set into a sitcom, entitled "From Rushes With Love" (working title: "A Big Bunch Of Runners"). Here's an ep guide:

Slap it in an envelope and send it to BBC Talent.

11.03am, 26th March: On the subject of BBC Talent, Squidy ponders on the use of Ian Wright to publicise the system considering he's a talentless lump of a nebbish who only got a career on television because he kicked a ball once. Squidy sends the sitcom idea in anyway. It can't be worse than the idea behind Mr Charity, he reasons.

13.14pm, 27nd March: Bored, Squidy ponders on creating a Free Nelson Mandela website, with online petition.

10.09am, 28th March: Squidy buys a new album, 'Acker-pella', in which Acker Bilk hums all his most popular tunes. This joke was regetted the moment it was typed.

5.14pm, 29th March: The BBC ring. Kenny Everett is still dead.

11.11am, 30th March: Here's an expression you never hear: "Two left hands". When people can't walk or run or dance they are said to have "two left feet" (or quadroplegia) but when people can't catch something like a ball it's never said that they have "two left hands". It's said they are "all fingers and thumbs". Although you would imagine that for someone who is literally all fingers and thumbs, it would be piss easy to catch something. Arthritis, most likely. None of this is helping the Morons From Outer Space article get written, however.

3.45pm, 31st March: The Queen Mother dies during a repeat of Auntie's Bloomers. Nagging thought.

8.30am, 1st April: Easter Monday. Chanel Four start repeating first and second series Futurama at 8:30 in the morning. Fools. Squidy quite clearly stated in his letter to them that it should be shown at 8:30pm. Fools. Meanwhile, BBC1 has dumped all it's entertainment content to bring us round the clock Queen Mother updates. "Still dead" was the day's conclusion. Nagging thought.

11.14am, 1st April: Turns out that the dumping of all entertainment of BBC1 wasn't because of the dead Queue Emm. According to VLS (or "The Vlusser", as we wags call him), it's part of Lorraine Heggessey's Stalinist rebranding, the motto of which is "Fuck the globe, let's dance!". And, of course, "We're so good at television, we're so good at television...". Nagging thought.

1.34pm, 1st April: Odd interview on the BBC News. Peter Sissons talking to the Queen Mother's second cousin, Lady Spictoria Filthyrichandcatflap:

Such sub-Blue Jam nonsense from the BBC. Tsch. Nagging thought (mainly about all this "nagging thought" nonsense being nicked from Mr Bean's Diary).

12.03pm, 2nd April: Flipping through The Daily Fascist, Squidy notes that some cunt is complaining about Peter Sissons' tie. Nagging thought.

1.23am, 3rd April: Squidy wakes up screaming "Oh my God, the Private Eye Tie article!!!". Then goes back to sleep.

1.26am, 3th April: Squidy wakes up again. Panicking, the half-asleep yid types up and ad-libs the entire Private Eye article, typing at approxiamately 547 words per minute. Content, Squidy goes back to his regular routine of watching television and wanking.

10.34am, 4th April: Squidy finally gets round to watching the Brass Eye Special and has come to the conclusion that he "quite liked the songs", although he feels that the dark, paedophilic style of comedy has had no effect on him whatsoever.

11.34am, 4th April: Squidy is vox popped on the street by Newsround on what he thinks about missing thirteen year-old Amanda Dowler. However, his comment of "Well, I'd fuck her" didn't made it to air. On walking away whilst humming 'Little White Butt', Squidy contemplates renaming his article 'What Would It Look Like If Brass Eye Were To Do A Spoof Of Amanda Dowler's cunt?'.

5.25pm, 4th April: Taping Newsround so that he can use the missing teen story as future masterbation fodder, it turns out that the show is thirty years old today. To celebrate, they appear to have woken up John Craven by poking him with a big stick.

12.33pm, 5th April: Sod the so-called controversy about the Brass Eye Special, Squidy's just realised that Channel Four have just skipped an entire series of Cheers during their lunchtime repeats. Series three by his reckoning. That'll be the death of Coach and the introduction of Frasier missing, then. Bastards.

13.23pm, 7th April: Looking back on the papers of the time, Squidy is intrigued by the media reaction to Brass Eye Special, from The Daily Mail's ludicrous "It's not very good, let's ignore it and it'll go away" attitude, in contrast to The Comedy Forum's sensible "The sickest show ever, let's burn the cunt in a giant wicker phallus!!!" opinion. He also comes across (and no, he's not doing that joke) an old tape of one of Victor Lewis-Smith's Loose Ends contributions. It's dated 22nd July 2001 so it's one of the later ones. It sounds like this:

VLS: Yes, thank you, Nedwyn, but I'll have to stop you there as the nominations for Loose Neds' Hypocrite Of The Year are in, laygennlemen, and I'll tell you the winner just as soon as I open this envelope... FX: Two minutes of struggling with envelope and VLS getting angrier, followed by a tiny rip. VLS: ...ah ha, there we are. And the winner of the award for Hypocrite Of The Year is...me! FX: Audience gasps. VLS: .. Specifically for this article in The Mirror, dated July 21st, 2001, where, among other things, I opine: GRAMS: Crackly theme from The Archers. VLS: (distorted, like a Movietone newsreel) "I've always believed that there should be no ghetto areas in comedy, but hoaxes only ring true when they're played on deserving targets." FX: Audience laughter. VLS: (normal voice) "Onlyringtruewhentheyreplayedondeservingtargets", eh? Then it must have been a DIFF-ER-ENT Victor Lewis-Smith who rang up the late Derek Nimmo to tell him that the Queen Mother had died when, in fact, she hadn't. GRAMS: Clip of TV Offal: VLS: The Queen Mother has choked on her last fishbone. Derek Nimmo: Suspender. FX: Audience laughter and applause. VLS: Not only that but... FX: Tape wind. GRAMS: Archers theme, as before. VLS: (distorted, as before) "A few years ago, he was banned from broadcasting live of radio after announcing the death of Michael Heseltine (how the politician's friends and family must have laughed when they heard the news)." FX: Audience laughter. VLS: (normal) Apart from this sentence being factually inaccurate and slightly improbable in the thinking that Heseltine's wife was probably not with the heart attacked Michael in hospital, but rather at home listening to a radio comedy show, this must surely be written by another journalist-slash-comedian called Victor Lewis-Smith who used to do similar 'Honest Obituaries' on his never recommissioned televison show, TV Offal... GRAMS: Clip of TV Offal: Michael Burke: Noel Edmonds, who died today. FX: Audience laughter and applause. VLS: Another paragraph reads: GRAMS: Archers theme. VLS: (distorted) "But surely the C4 chairman hasn't forgotten the ITC's earlier ruling against Brass Eye?" VLS: (normal) ...which was, of course, dismissed as silly nothingness. Unlike TV Offal's hilarious cartoon Tubby The Tumor, the complaints of which were held up in full. GRAMS: Clip of TV Offal: The Adventures Of Tubby The Tumor. FX: Audience laughter and applause. VLS: And, finally... GRAMS: Archers theme. VLS: (distorted) "The angry young man of youth programmes is approaching 40 (older than Beadle when he was in his "prime"), and is surely far too old to be pulling juvenile pranks." VLS: (normal) ...unlike our Victor, of course, who is not only older than Christopher Morris but also frequently phones up live television programmes and says naughty words. GRAMS: Clip of Ads Infinitum: VLS phones up Richard and Judy and calls them "a big pain in the arse". FX: Audience laughter and cheering, cut off quickly by: FX: Tape wind. VLS: Apropos of nothing, here's a satirical song in an eighties genre... GRAMS: The backing track for Heart Of Glass by Blondie under: Chris Morris Once had a degree of class. But these days He's an Eye of Brass. It seemed that The Day Today Was just a lark. Now all comedy Has to be 'dark'. You can bet When his script was filed, The media terrorist Never smiled. Morris thinks Big Train Is far too mild. For great comedy, You gotta rape a child. Anyone Can make a paedo special, But if it's no good, It's just an empty vessel. Yeah, so what if it May receive a Bafta? One thing it didn't get Was the audience's laughter. Words like 'mong', 'robcock' and 'spazz' Seemed to be The script of Eye of Brass. Well, you don't expect a script To win the Booker When it's co-written By Charlie Brooker. Executed With no satiric purpose, It just seemed to serve To make Channel 4 nervous. Morris should have learnt There's life beyond the cervix, yeah. Da da dum, Da da-da da-da da-dum, Da-da da da-dum, Da da-da da-da da-dum, Da da da da-dum, Da dum da-dum da-da-dum. Yeah, it was the dregs. It even featured Simon Pegg. Ooooooh, woaaaaaaa... Ooooooh, woaaaaaaa... Ooooooh, woaaaaaaa... Ooooooh, woaaaaaaa... If Morris would Pull his head from his arse, He'd make something good Unlike his Eye of Brass. He's tried to make a Brilliant programme. But what we've got is Studio-based jam. The Daily Mail Thought that it was bad taste. But where talent was concerned The show was just mad waste. Morris could have destroyed The news-reporting media. But he spoofed Eminem With extra paedophilia. Da da dum, Da da-da da-da da-dum, Da-da da da-dum, Da da-da da-da da-dum, Da da da da-dum, Da dum da-dum da-da-dum...

8.45am, 8th April: "10pm, 22nd April, BBC2 : Room 101: Politician and TV personality Adolf Hitler is this week's guest on the show which confines pet hates to oblivion. Amongst the items he chooses to discard into Room 101 are Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, and Richard Whiteley. With Paul Merton. Producer Victoria Payne, Series producer Richard Wilson. (S) (W)" One to tape, methinks.

11.15am, 9th April: Squidy is pleased that Abbott And Costello Meet Captain Kidd on being shown on BBC2 at the time of the Queen Mother's funeral, so that it gives him something to watch.

11.08am, 10th April: Received e-mail from Cole Porter. He's read the Treyf song and has denounced it as "lazy anti-semetic bullshit". He wants Squidy to write something as good as his "Tom, Harry, Or Dick" song from Kiss Me Kate (the musical, not the Chris Langham sitcom), specifically the lines "Dick, a-dick a-dick, a-dick a-dick, a-dick dick, a-dick dick". That Cole Porter's got some nerve for a man whose been dead for thirty-eight years. Sounds more like Eminem than Rogers And Hammerstein. Cole Porter? Cole Pooftah more like.

12.03pm, 10th April: Coo. According to Mark Lewishon's Big Book Of Radio Times Comedy With The Monty Python Foot On The Front Of It, there was a pilot made in the late seventies called Not The Chris Langham Sitcom. It featured a zany trapeze artist who wants to be an accountant and a newsreader with a wonky typewriter, and guest appearances from Mel Smith, Charlie Williams and Lulu. Too bad to be wiped, the master tape of this experimental one-off was hung, drawn, quartered and burnt in a public execution ceremony at BBC Television Centre. Bill Cotton was in tears. Allegedly.

10.30am, 11th April: Dentist appointment.

7.15pm, 12th April: Squidy goes to see a recording of the first in a new series of TV To Go. It is purgatory on earth. Squidy has a theory that, even though it only contains half of each sketch, it is the first television show with a running time of infinity. Although Squidy is currently at home typing this up, part of him is still back in BBC Studio 7 watching a pre-recorded Hugh Dennis asking if his fishshop has sold any muffins yet.

11.10pm, 12th April: Back at home, Squidy ponders about doing a spoof on his website called 'TV Torgo', a spoof of TV To Go only starring Torgo, the big-kneed slave of Satan from the 1966 cinematic abortion that is Manos: The Hands Of Fate. Deciding it to be too obscure and pretentious, Squidy only agrees to create such an article only if he gets really starved of comic ideas.

11.11pm, 12th April: Squidy finishes writing the 'TV Torgo' article. It is awful but, Squidy reasons, it will only serve to make the other articles look better.

11.48pm, 12th April: The thought hits Squidy that the reasoning behing the 'TV Torgo' article is the same as he's used for every other page on his website.

3.50pm, 13th April: Squidy buys the new single from X-Press 2 featuring some old fucker. It's great. Just listen to these lyrics:

Talk about your 'Lazy' reference comedy! What? Oh come on now, that is clever, it is.

10.00pm, 14th April: Start of National Dyslexia Weke.

10.01pm, 14th April: Fortieth anniversary of that joke.

12.32am, 15th April: Here's a rumour on The Comedy Forum that Mickey Dolenz is to record a new single written by Daniel Bedingfield, entitled 'Gotta Get Frodis'. This is dismissed with a chorus of "Oh, do fuck off, Squidy".

3.15pm, 16th April: Squidy receives an email from someone b-list celeb-neb who is mentioned on his site. They tell him they like the article while at the same time trying to be funny. Squidy replies, thanking them for their mail and telling them to go fuck themselves.

7.00pm, 17th April: Squidy goes to the theatre to see The Pinto Monologues. Bring your own fruit.

7.07pm, 17th April: The fruit I brought walks out in disgust at Pinto's ignorant and offensive remarks about Dudley Moore and goes home to write a new series of Rock Profile.

8.00pm, 18th April: New musical Chitty Chitty Bang Bang opens in the West End, starring the very singular Michael Ball, Richard O'Brian Blessed, Leo Sayer, and Emma Williams. Squidy wonders if this is the same Emma Williams who appeared with Steve Coogan in Film Council disaster The Parole Officer and, if so, is there a scene in which Chitty reverses into the wall of a prison in which the children are entrapped with "IT'S GET TRULY IN" spray-painted on the bumper?

12.14pm, 19th April: Squidy learns that the Welsh version of Does Doug Know? is called Llandudno? and is presented by the late Sir Harry Secombe. Even dead, he displays more understanding of comedy than Daisy Donovan ever will. Which reminds him, according to The Great Big Old Book Of Every Television Show In The World Ever, Yes It Is, Really by Geoff Tibballs, Doctor Who's original title was The Doctor Who Travels Around In A Phone Box Solving Puzzles And Meeting Aliens And Spacemen And Monsters And Things Like That, It's Quite Scary Really, Coo Lummee before a nifty third assistant director named Slonathan Joman cut off the end. Because it had converted to Judaism. But to you, twenty quid. Already.

9.56pm, 21st April: The winners of the Baftas (technically the Batas) are announced. Some shocking results, specifically the award for best actress going to Nicholas Parsons. The late John Thaw won The Late John Thaw Memorial Award For Being John Thaw for being John Thaw as he did last year. And the year before that. And next year as well. Oh, and the Brass Eye Special won the John Cleese Memorial Award For Pissing Your Comic Genius Away On Sub-Standard Pleb-Pleasing Shite (The League Of Gentlemen won last year). Pity, I thought Black Books was a shoe-in.

9.47am, 22nd April: The video and DVD of Crocodile Dundee In L.A. is released. Its tagline, emblazoned across the top of the box, reads: "WARNING: This film includes a short scene which contains a strobing effect which may affect viewers with photo-sensitive epilepsy or other such conditions". Ha ha ha, brilliant. Comic gold. That Paul Hogan's still got it, whatever the hell it is.

10.30pm, 22nd April: After watching tonight's Room 101, Squidy is disgusted and appalled by watching half an hour of the world's most evil, bigotted man spouting his fascist, racist and homophobic views on an innocent public. How dare the BBC broadcast such an offensive programme? I do wish Adolf Hitler hadn't pulled out, then maybe they needn't have had to replace him with Ricky Gervais. The cunt.

10.33pm, 22nd April: Pinto posts a message on The Comedy Forum saying that Ricky Gervais' Room 101 was the best thing he's seen in ages. The cunt.

10.34pm, 22nd April: Schuler Bub posts the link to the picture of Pinto on his website. The cunt.

12.11pm, 23rd April: Squidy downloads a bootleg mp3 off Audiogalaxy of Billy Joel. The cunt. Sorry, I don't know why I said that, must just be habit. Billy Joel is not a cunt, he's probably very lovely. Anyway, this song was first written in 1988 preceding a proposed collaboration with Billy Joel and Jim Dale. Said partnership never happened but the song was loosely recorded by Joel alone during a private session at The Hippo Felch Salad Studios in Paris. Musically identical to We Didn't Start The Fire, the lyrics run thus:

12.20am, 23rd April: The sudden death of Linda Lovelace in a car accident has just been announced, another blow she'd given the male population. Ironic that the original 'Deep Throat' would die from having a joystick thrust hard into her neck. To commemorate her life, she was given a twenty-one gum salute. At the funeral, the casket was slowly lowered into the ground, then pulled out, then in, then out, then in...

10.00am, 24th April: Cowes Week starts. Birthdays: Shirley Maclaine (68), Barbra Streisand (60). (This is true.)

10.03am, 24th April: A telegram arrives from the writers of Not 1982. They're suing.

11.00pm, 24th April: Instead of going to Stewart Lee's 'Save The Vortex Jazz Club' gig, Squidy stays home and stages his own 'Fuck Jazz Clubs' gig. There's no guests but at least Billy Jenkins doesn't go on playing the guitar for fucking ages. The evening comes to a close with the watching of The Mark Thomas Comedy Product:

12.02pm, 25th April: It's just been announced that the two boys accused of killing Damilola Taylor have been found not guilty. The parents are concerned that now they will continue to not know who killed their son. You see, what they should have done is found the boys guilty, then the parents would have known. Gosh, I'm smart. They should make me pope.

12.13pm, 25th April: Turns out those scamps were found innocent because they had used a showbiz lawyer, who sang their defence to the tune of various Broadway showtunes. The summing up was sung to the tune of 'Oklahoma!':

You think that's good, you should have seen him at the Sarah Payne trial, singing about the girl to the tune of Roxy Music's 'Virginia Plain'.

11.05pm, 25th April: The Annual Barfta Awards 2002 are broadcast. Jesus fucking Christ, if this isn't the worst programme I've ever seen in my entire life, then my penis has its own ten-part topical sketch show on BBC2. It had me shaking my head more than the paki in Mind Your Language. Or Fisher Stevens in Short Circuit 2.

9.45am, 26th April: A follow-up to CD box set "Sven Goran Eriksson's Classical Collection" has been released, entitled "Sven Goran Eriksson's Classless Collection", which contains Ulrika Jonsson, Nancy Dell'Olio, and half a dozen other opportunistic tarts. An attempt at some topical comedy there. I wish I hadn't bothered.

11.03pm, 27th April: What do you get if you cross the director of The League Of Gentlemen with a British comedy film about a broken-footed footballer? Bendelak Beckham. And what do you get if you cross a non-fire-starting Eighties rock singer with Superman's father? Billy Jor-El. And, no, listen, what do you get if you cross a fascist French politician and a wacky American magic duo? Le Pen and Teller. For fuck's sake, I can't use any of this surely...

5.30pm, 28th April: Squidy watches Points Of View to see if his letter about Ricky Gervais is read out. It isn't. Instead, a large portion of the programme is devoted to a letter from a Mister Wankelstein from Cuntskin. He says something about Terry Wogan appearing in a clip in the repeat of I Love Really Boring Footage Of Telly People From Years Ago, specifically telling him how his hair in the clip looked longer than it does now even though, oddly, it doesn't. Terry's response: "Well, the old Woge lobes wouldn't know much about that, me laddo, but I can confirm that my hair has the full-on fluffiness of your Claudia Schiffers, yes it does. As the old Gregorian Dykes would say, 'Sir Terrence of Woggers, you speaker of the Irish Barmy, read the gabbling letters and let the readers gabble', yes he would, I've still got the teethmarks to show for it. And if you thought that was bad, you should listen to me! But Woges, I hear the great British public opine as one, or two if it's cheaper, why aren't you on daily rather than as intermittantly as Liz Hurley's babies? Well, dear listener, the simple answer is: I don't know. Through the power of modern techological advancements and tying two tin cans together with string, we can now talk live to Squidy S. Website about this puzzling situation."

5.32pm, 28th April: The phone rings. It's Terry Wogan, asking why he's not on television daily. Squidy says that judging from how he speaks he must be on something, then swears and hangs up. He then goes back to reading "Eat Shit And Die: The Life And Times Of Divine" by J. R. Hartley.

8.52am, 29th April: Whilst watching the last few minutes of Ri:se, Squidy comes up (snicker) with a great idea for a porno film: "Yes Yes Nanette". Based on the musical, it's about a woman who wagers that she can only answer 'yes' to any question she's asked for the next twenty-four hours. And oh! The things she's asked! This is certainly a better idea that the last filthy film Squidy thought up, "Dick Van Dyke", in which our hero drives around Cricklewood in a white D-reg transit 'curing' lots of different lesbians. With a cockney accent.

9.03am, 30th April: The complete Brass Eye is released on video and DVD. Cut to half a dozen internet wankers crying into their millions of pre-jiffy-packaged piss-poor dupes of the Brass Eye Special, yelling "Oh dear God, without my ill-gotten eBay revenue from extorting cheques from stupid fuckers who know no better and missed taping the bastard repeats, how are my children going to eat?!?".

9.04pm, 30th April: The Brass Eye DVD has been delayed for another week. Cut to the same internet wankers cackling evily.

11.45pm, 1st May: Squidy decides the time is right to finally live out the great unrealised dream of the music industry. He buys all of The Troggs singles and sprinkles some fairy dust on them, the baaaarstards. They don't improve musically but they do fly away, taking the second star to the right and straight on til morning. The baaaarstards.

12.04pm, 2nd March: What with the emergence of the private lives of many celebrities hitting the headlines, Squidy feels it is time for an admission: I am, in fact, as many have suspected... a Gary Glitterophile. It started off as just a mild interest, downloading one or two bootleg mp3s off the internet, but after listening to them I became hooked. I needed more and fast, joining up to sordid illegal mp3-swapping rings, with awful, deviant names such as 'Morpheus' or 'Audiogalaxy'. By then I was in too deep. I now needed the hard stuff: live tracks, rare b-sides, whole albums in some cases. Best Of's. Even Rock 'N Roll: Parts One and Two. I had nearly two dozen tracks resting in a file on my PC (which I had labelled 'hardcore kiddiez pornography XXX' so as to avoid embarrassment). I'm sorry. I am so sorry. May Gadd have mercy on my soul.

10.34am, 3rd May: A letter arrives from the BBC. Squidy's idea for a sitcom about runners has been rejected. They're making a sitcom called Mr Daleky instead about a man who dresses as a Dalek or something. Nev Fountain co-writes.

10.30pm, 4th May: Squidy erects a plaque to commemorate the exact place and time where his dad makes the "May the forth be with you" joke every single year.

1.38am, 5th May: Squidy finally gets the "Wacky 2000" reference in the SOTCAA Christmas Book. Spends rest of day slapping forehead and trying to get "Michael Jackson's filler".

12.48pm, 6th May: Squidy becomes pope. No, really. Of course this means he can't buy the Brass Eye DVD. Such is life.

11.57am, 7th May: Squidy actually reads the 'What Would It Look Like If Private Eye Were To Do A Spoof Of Michael Burke's Tie?' article he wrote a month ago. It is gibberish. A choice extract reads: "Bjhgdwgfd gfcyjhfkujbd cwdgjfkhrvfceb cefwjbngcvujkergnhbc...". Squidy decides to do more work on it but, in a flash of topicality, changes Michael Burke to Peter Sissons. Ho-ho!

5.16am, 8th May: After an all-night tweaking session, the new article is finally able to go online. Finally, after fifty-two weeks, Squidy's Website will contain something witty, original and exclusive. A brand new comic invention.

10.30pm, 9th May: Channel 4 broadcasts Christopher Morris' new project Brass Eye: Peter Sissons' Tie Special.

1.13am, 10th May: The article is placed online, along with 'TV Torgo' and 'The Thing's Below Fine'. Nobody reads any of it.

12.42am, 11th May: A letter arrives from Cole Porter's lawyer. He is suing me for calling him a dead homosexual. Squidy stands to lose over thirty-eight kajillion dollars from the case. Incidentally, "thirty-eight kajillion" is a key number in a Smack The Pony sketch that Squidy has had rejected. This is sadly true.

3.42am, 11th May: Teletext announces that House Of Commoners has received a TV transfer.

11.59am, 11th May: Squidy pens a pretentious and over-long article for his website, supposed celebrating its anniversary but actually coming across as bitter and self-centered. He then attempts suicide by watching Saturday evening BBC One light entertainment programmes. Fails.

12.00pm, 11th May: Squidy celebrates the first anniversary on his website with a single candle in a chocolate digestive and having a good cry. "Hmmm," he thinks, "Anna Ford's blouse looks a bit chintzy..."

What a good punchline.

The finished article.

How we've all changed in the passing year. Oh, we haven't? Just ignore that bit then. Squidy's Website has changed though and will continue to wend its way through the internet of the twentieth century uninvited and unenjoyed, if that is indeed a word. To show just how much this page has advanced over the previous year, here a sneak preview of the next update:

How far we've come. Here's to the next twelve months.

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