“Reporting live, from what we are calling The Leveson Enquiry II – Son Of Leveson it’s our Media-Watcher Corresponder, our Press Standards Tsar and Commandant, our Twitcher-esque Twitter Watcher, Samuel Herlihy. It’s Irish, pronounced “hur-le-hee” not “hur-lee”. He’s as meta as they come. Confused and confounded as it’s possible to be. He runs libel law as close as a premium shave product with fifty blades and a vibrating shaft that by all accounts is the literal best a male person can possibly get. Samuel? Samuel? Are you there?”
"Yes, I’m here. The big news today has been the testimony by Blur bassist and cheese-maker, Alex James. Mr James has described in harrowing detail his treatment at the hands of loser bloggers, internet music websites, Blur message-boards and smug food-writers when they read his column in The Sun about the heart-warming success of fast food chains. He read from a prepared statement and had to take a number of breaks to wipe away tears and consult with his lawyer, Dave Rowntree, also of Blur.”
“I wasn’t aware that the Blur drummer was a trained lawyer.”
“He is indeed Huw. He is a qualified pilot, unsuccessful Labour candidate and Open University qualified solicitor.”
“That’s fantastic! It really is great to see aging musicians with a new lease of life”
“It is Huw. It’s rare but heartwarming when an aged indie musician finds something else to do with their time. Mr James began his statement by describing how he got started in the cheese business. He told the enquiry that the three cheeses he began his foray into dairy culturing with had been highly regarded by “foodies” across the country.”
“By ‘foodies’ do you mean a small number of people who have a genuine interest in food and a larger group of insufferably smug middle-class morons?”
“I do Huw. His Blue Monday, Farleigh Wallop and Little Wallop cheeses were promising beginnings for his nascent cheese-making career. I myself haven’t sampled them but have heard nothing but praise for them. Around this time he also appeared on Maestro a BBC series showing celebrities attempting to learn how to conduct an orchestra. Bizarrely the show was gripping and entertaining fluff and Mr James came across as a thoroughly likeable fellow. Mr James’ problems began when he attempted to expand his fromage operation however. He signed up with Asda to concoct and promote a range of cheese products for imbeciles. He caused a storm for allegedly turning his back on his organic, handmade, traditional approach to the production of cheese. The product range includes cheese slices exactly the same size as a piece of bread to take the mental strain out of slicing cheese to the correct dimensions.”
“Sorry to interrupt Samuel, but really?”
“Absolutely Huw. According to Mr James, members of the British public struggle to use a knife to slice processed cheese products to the correct size to lay upon bread. He also invented the Spudsworth cheese for potatoes.”
“A cheese named after Puff Daddy’s butler?”
“He’s called Diddy now Huw, and his butler was named Farnsworth. Spudsworth is actually a bag of cheese cubes tossed in potato starch that you melt in the microwave and then pour onto a baked potato.”
“Genius!”
“Is it Huw? Or could you just use a grater and some normal cheese to apply to the potato before returning it to the oven?"
“I see your point.”
“Mr James came out fighting in support of his cheese range. He wrote impassioned polemics on the need for “everyday” cheese and “posh” cheese. His ludicrous spiels were entirely devoid of the possibility that tikka masala cheese is the kind of culinary idiocy even a post-pub drunkard or Phish-listening stoner would ignore. It’s just a range of dairy horrors that probably give you holes in your kidneys.”
“Has that been verified?”
“It has not Huw. I am casting aspersions. I’m all for journalistic integrity but this Asda thing really bugged me.”
“Because you are a insufferable middle-class food snob?”
“Because I have a fully functioning brain and palate Huw and I always quite liked the bloke. May I continue now?”
“Apologies. You may”
“The truly gripping part of Mr James’ testimony came after a recess for lunch. During the break Mr James loitered outside smoking and discussing the day’s events with Mr Rowntree. He appeared relaxed until a man eating what appeared to be a Big Mac walked past. At the sight of the man with burger Mr James became agitated, puffing furiously on his cigarette and shaking. He stamped his cigarette out and stormed back into the court”
“Clearly the actions of a fast-food hating madman Samuel?”
“Clearly. The afternoon session focused on how this psychosis began. Mr James informed the enquiry that he had been the victim of a sting operation, a set-up, a ruse.”
“A fraud? Deception? An underhand gambit?”
“Chicanery, skullduggery and subterfuge were all in play Huw. He had begun his forays into the world of food and gastronomy with the best of intentions. He saw the success Damon Albarn was having as an irritatingly talented jack-of-all trades. He wanted a piece of that achievement pie.”
“A slice of the high-life?”
“A big old portion of profit with a thick sauce of reward dripping over it like triumph custard Huw, that’s correct. The slope got slippery with the Asda deal but once he was caught on camera in the private club with The Colonel, he told the enquiry that he found himself ensnared in a web of fries and evil.”
“The club you are referring to is McDonaldland?”
“It is Huw yes”
“The Colonel in question is Colonel Sanders?”
“Again that is correct Huw. Mr James found himself with an invitation to the exclusive McDonaldland sex club. After he proved his ability to sell dreck to idiots with his Asda deal he received an embossed invitation to visit the aforementioned club. This was a place for the high rollers and bigwigs of crappy food. It was a place of sex and popcorn chicken, barbeque sauce and milkshakes being brought to the yard. James found himself intoxicated by his new found power and he reveled in the bacchanalian atmosphere of the club. He described the moment he realized just how out of control his life had become. On all fours, Hamburglar behind, Grimace in front and Colonel Sanders astride him. He remembered the stench of cheese and Zinger Tower special sauce burning in his nostrils.”
“Chilling. Two Geordies were also involved is that correct?”
“Indeed. Mr James knew them only as ‘the Greggs’. They, alongside mysterious club-owner Ronald McDonald, were described by Mr James as ‘proper nasty bastards’."
“How did Mr James’ disgusting extra-marital predilections come to light?”
“The infamous Sun article of January the eighteenth was revealed by James to have been the result of blackmail by the fast-food characters. Unbeknownst to him Hamburglar had filmed their tryst and had threatened Mr James with exposure in the press if he refused to submit a ‘fluff’ piece as part of his Sun newspaper column.”
“That Hamburglar is truly mean Samuel!”
“He is Huw. He really is vile, just incapable of human emotion or kindness.”
“Where were the police and the authorities in all of this? Officer McMac? Mayor McCheese? Surely they could have come to Mr James’ aid?”
“According to Mr James’ testimony they had been bought off by the astronomically wealthy Greggs brothers. Though he admitted he had no proof, Mr James did offer to sit a polygraph test to prove the legitimacy of his claims that the Greggs and Colonel Sanders had greasy fingers in the highest echelons of society.”
“Echelons?”
“Echelons Huw. He pointed out that the article in question was clearly written by a simpleton or a seven year old. He also pointed to the photographs of him holding up various fast-food items. He is gurning and pulling faces like an imbecile in every last one of them. He asked the inquiry to look deeper into the snaps. To see the horror and fear which lurks behind the zany grins and raised eyebrows.”
“So the blackmail plot is the reason why he said nothing about what actually goes into a Greggs‘ sausage-roll? Why he entirely ignored the murky welfare practices for KFC chickens? The extortion plot against him is why he kept repeating that he was ‘dazzled’ by everything? The Hamburglar made him make utterly idiotic statements like, ‘It doesn’t feel threatening or as if Americans are telling us what to do.’ Isn’t Hamburglar American himself?! There are surely holes in Alex James‘ story Samuel?”
“You raise some interesting points Huw. Firstly he informed the enquiry that Hamburglar is of unknown origin, he has no known nationality. He also insisted that it had always been Damon Albarn who would bang on about not being told what to do by Americans, around the time of Blur’s second album, Modern Life Is Rubbish. He had never been bothered by Americans or American culture then, so why would he be now? According to Mr James this is clear proof that the piece was ghost-written to suit a malevolent gang of fast-food characters and their nefarious plans for domination of the UK.”
“A terrifying tale of that there is little doubt Samuel.”
“Indeed Huw. Though we may never know the absolute truth of Mr James‘ statement, I for one always liked the bloke.”
“Me too Samuel. He made being in a band look like it should – awesome fun.”
“He did Huw, he really did. I hope that he was telling the truth and that hopefully, now unburdened of his shame and guilt he can return to making nice cheese and being louche.”
“He always was incredibly louche.”
“He was Huw but that louchness was near enough choked out of him with a mouthful of Grimace and a colon full of Hamburglar.”
“Truly a fable for our age Samuel.”
“Was it Huw? I’m unsure whether Alex James was just a sap, a mark…"
“A dupe? A putz? A sucker?"
“Yes Huw all of the above apply. A patsy, dragged down into a murky underworld of fast-food and sex parties or an arrogant celebrity high on sales figures of rancid crap fashioned from abandoned principles and gibbering British stupidity.”
“I guess we’ll never know Samuel.”
“I guess we won’t Huw. Anyway, reporting live from Leveson Two – Herbie Goes Bananas this is Samuel Herlihy. I’m off for a Megabucket and a handjob while listening to Think Tank. Which sucked for the record.”
“Thanks Samuel. I agree, though ‘Battery In My Leg’ was ok. Now here’s Zeus with the weather.”
“THUNDER!”
