ITV Launches ‘Celebrity Knocking Shop’

The Saturday evening ratings war today entered a frightening new ‘shock and awe’ phase, with ITV bosses hoping to smash BBC1’s The Arse with Simon Cowell’s ultra-raunchy, no-holes-barred Celebrity Knocking Shop.

“The idea first came to me in 2007, as I was surreptitiously working my hand up Dannii Minogue in front of ten million viewers while Leon Jackson got her in the mood,” explained TV’s leading starfucker. “I thought to myself, ‘Crikey, we could get a fantastic climax if the desk suddenly fell away.’ I’m sure Dannii would have been up for it, although I never actually spoke to her about it.”

Mr Cowell and a fearsome-looking sex toy

“I never spoke to her at all, actually,” he added. “Her irritating yap would only have distracted me from coating her hair, her sexy clothes and her rubber tits with ‘Simon’s wonder drops’.”

Cowell later researched the potential of his new ratings magnet, he revealed proudly, by wearing Cheryl Cole as a cocksleeve in front of Natalie Imbruglia and handing her a questionnaire.

Deluded members of the public will be invited to sing, dance and play piano on Celebrity Knocking Shop in order to inflate Mr Cowell’s sack to bursting point, whilst he bangs his way through the celebrity C-list.

A defiant BBC spokesman later commented that Tom Jones was definitely up for tugging furiously at ‘Little Tom’ whilst imagining naked showbiz novices gyrating lasciviously behind him.

“In fact, he’s been doing it for weeks already,” he elaborated.

Record Label In Search For Lowest Publicity Stunt

Classical music label Decca has launched a global search for the deepest human voice ever heard, after composer and idiot Paul Mealor squeezed out a piece which is physically impossible to sing.

“Mr Mealor was famous for five minutes when a tribe of squaddies’ cockwarmers wailed their way to the top of the Christmas charts with his profound meditation on separation and loss, ‘Whoever You Are’ , so obviously we need to cash in fast before his name drops out of the back of your head forever,” said a Decca spokesman. “Unfortunately, the only thing this fucktard’s managed to bang out since Christmas demands the services of a vocalist with a throat the size of a hatchback. And, unless we can teach a whale to sing in Latin, there’s nothing in the natural world which can hit three octaves below middle E.”

This does not exist, and neither do computers

“Fortunately for us, voice-transforming gadgets have been available cheaply since 1996 so, from a technical point of view, it’s not really a problem,” he added. “And they work in real-time, too, so that covers the quick cash-in tour - which is how we usually try to recoup the cost of recording a CD nobody is ever going to buy. But then we came up with this brilliant idea for a publicity stunt. Here goes.”

“Ahem. Dis shout going out to anybody what gots a throat the size of a fanny magnet,” he warned the public. “Bluds! Bluds! All you gots to do is convince yourself your bath-time grunts is like waaay better than the perfectly-modulated tonality of a trained world-class professional, then tell all your chav mates with wicked sound systems in their wheelz that you is be shouting out to all your homeys on the long-playing Decca release of da hipster Paul Mealor’s subwoofa-pumpin’ ‘De Profundis’ innit.”

“Standard,” he added shiftily.