off!', which in terms of opening gambits is about as enticing as hearing someone shout 'Try not to be sick!' immediately prior to intercourse'. Brooker on Philip from "The Apprentice": 'If it were legal or even possible to do so, he'd probably marry himself, then conduct a long-term affair with himself behind himself's back, eventually fathering nine children with himself, all of whom would walk and talk like him. And then he'd lock those mini-hims in a secret underground dungeon to have his sick way with his selves, undetected, for decades'. Brooker on "Royal Ascot": 'Every year it's the same thing: a 200-year-old countess you've never heard of, who closely resembles a Cruella De Vil mannequin assembled entirely from heavily wrinkled scrotal tissue that's been soaked in tea for the past eight decades, attempts to draw attention away from her sagging neck - a droopy curtain of skin that hangs so low she has to repeatedly kick it out of her path as she crosses the royal compound - by balancing the millinery equivalent of Bilbao's Guggenheim museum on her head'.
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