ALIAS POOR YORICK

How many Popes does it take to change a light bulb ? "Let me begin by saying that we take the problem of light bulbs which require changing extremely seriously. It is a matter of great concern to me, and the church as a whole. There have been suggestions that there has been an attempt within the church to downplay the importance of replacing faulty light bulbs, suggestions which I refute absolutely. The entire problem has not been helped by what we could only describe as lurid sensationalism in the press. A solution to the light bulb problem is being pursued aggressively, and we would like to see that action being more fairly represented in the popular press. Of course I have no personal knowledge of  faulty light bulbs, but I accept that there may be, from place to place, faulty lightbulbs. I intend to do everything in my power to change these light bulbs. I hope that clarifies the matter. And I would also like to remind you that as pope, I am infallible, and I don't w...

NOT THE POPE Well Bro, I'm gutted. Bloody devastated. I know you shouldn't count your eggs before they're all in the same basket, but I really thought I was in with a chance here. I suppose the pearls will have to go back. So what the hell happened ? Look I don't want to be bitter and twisted but I blame the catholics. You bastards. Always looking after their own. It's bad enough you chased us out of France five hundred years ago, but now this ! You bastards. I hope you realise you've missed out on the chance to see all the cardinals in dinner suits instead of that gay shit they're stuck with now. It would've been a way cool popehood. And what about the Bugatti Veyron ? Would've been the best popemobile ever ! And I had it all costed out - totally pimped and bullet-proofed under budget. Enough left over to clean that graffiti off the ceiling of the Cistern Chapel and slap on a couple of coats of low-sheen Arctic White. Youse have blown this ...

A NEW ETIQUETTE COLUMN FROM OUR EDITOR-AT-LARGE Lord MacGregor McGregor I am not The Stig. Neither are you. And neither is the nineteen year old P-plater in a Hyundai Excel with black vinyl wrap, an exhaust pipe big enough to fit a small pig in,  and No Fear emblazoned in huge letters on the rear window. And neither is The Stig. Well, not any more. So who are we really ? Apparently the answers are to be found on the back window of your car. And Facebook. Look no further. But first, stick families. If in fact your entire family consists of stick figures, then by all means tell us about this on the back window of your car. However, if your family consists of actual people & pets, then I really must insist that you stop misleading us on the back window of your car. Do not lie to me in traffic. It will end badly for all of us. Now. About your protestation that you have a "baby on board". Congratulations, you have a child. We here at ALIAS POOR YORI...

At Proust's Kitchen we serve only one dish. It is steak. It is perfect. Heston Blumenthal ate here. It made him cry. Anthony Bourdain also came here and cried, and not just because we slapped him with a spatula for being, how you say, a complete bloody tool. No, they all come, they all cry. It is the perfection. Should you feel you may be worthy of eating in our perfect restaurant, please feel free to send us an email. If it sufficiently amuses us, we will send you an application form. You will almost certainly fail, but the enormous effort involved is, we assure you, worth it. And how, you ask, can we be so confident ?  We can make the best steak in the world because we have the best cows in the world. And we treat them like royalty. They live in resort-like splendour in a location we prefer not to disclose so that there is little risk of them being disturbed by tourists, paparazzi, and insanely-jealous rival restaurateurs. There are no fences. There is only fre...