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Welcome to the Rofling Officer Productions blog, where you will mainly find extremely cynical reviews by a British Stereotype (usually with my good friend, John Smith). These reviews will most often be of games and films, but also have a few little projects.

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Saturday, 26 March 2011

Celebrity Juice is AWESOME!

POTATO! POTATO! POTATO! POTATO!

Yeah, no. Celebrity Juice has to be the worst panel show I've seen in my life. Watching it is like grinding my balls against a sharpened cheese grater. It was so excrutiatingly bad, I had to watch the Dark Knight and the Lord of the Rings 3 times to wash the awful taste out of my mouth.

The episode I watched started with Keith Lemon (whose very name makes my mouth take the shape of a wrinkled dog's arse) strutting along through the ailses of people, who were clapping and cheering and whistling like they were in for something good, poor things. This walk was almost the breaking point for me, I mean the guy is already about as annoying as a faulty smoke alarm (he fucking sound like it too), so with this walk he was as annoying as a faulty smoke alarm while trying to load a fucking Macintosh.

When the bastard had finally walked to his seat, he began to introduce his ridiculous panel. He seemed to have all of TV's rejects (which funnily enough all have shows on ITV2, Holly "Willoughbooby" (PAH HA HA), Fearne Cotton (who is so stupid she would probably have to hire a dectective to find her arse and elbow, then hire a builder to get them the right fucking way around), and Mileen Klass, who I actually quite like. SHUT UP.

On the other side was Genie-of-the-Lamp DiCampingSite, and Rufus Hound, who looked about as thrilled to be where he was as a pig wandering through Mecca.

Suddenly it switched back to Keith Lemmon Party, as he started patronising Gino so much it was like he was a retard asking what sex is. This was an "up the duff" special, so their were pregnant jokes aplenty, absolutely all of them unfunny. One quiet interjection from Rufus You-Ain't-Nothing-But-A-Hound-Dog later, and we had a bunch of South Park voices claiming they were the vaginas of the idiot women on there.

By then I didn't have the stomach to last anymore, so I sort of collapsed sideways, vaguely picking up vocal strains from Keith Lemon, who seemed to get louder each time he said something.

I'll finish up by saying this: if you are a teenage girl/boy who wear their jeans halfway down their arses like their has been a belt genocide, then this is probably your favourite show. And if it is, then fuck you.

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