It’s not the fact that David Cameron swears on the radio, it’s the line that immediately preceeds it that makes this a hall of famer.

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Buzz Aldrin: “We should go boldly where man has not gone before. Fly by the comets, visit asteroids, visit the moon of Mars. There’s a monolith there.”

WTF? Is there? Or is Buzz just having a breakdown?

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Ofcom’s periodic Broadcast Bulletins are the occasional source of much belly-laughing over here.

From the July edition, a heart-warming tale of a man unfairly represented as a homosexual when is, in fact, merely a wanker.

In response to Mr M’s complaint of unfair treatment Teletext accepted that the text message Mr M sent to the Service read:

“This page is rubbish ave been after bi girls 4 weeks + got nothing cud av flown 2 amsterdam wa the money ave spent.”

According to Teletext, this text message was considered inappropriate for broadcast and was therefore rejected. Teletext said that, in accordance with the terms and conditions of the Service, Mr M was informed of this and charged for the text message and that in response Mr M then texted the following message:

“Eye but u still charged me 4 it u minimum wage loser go + fuck yer self ya fuckin muppet.”

Teletext acknowledged that the text message which was broadcast was as follows:

“GOODCHOICE – I love this page. Thanks for keeping me entertained! Gay guys, text me now. mwah! (103646)”

Teletext said it believed that it was most likely that the text message complained of had been sent to air deliberately…

Classy stuff.

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This shouldn’t work.

50 Cent, covered acoustically by a white Belgian named Milow.

When she ready to ride, I’m ready to roll
I’ll be in this bitch till the club close
What should I do, on all fours
Now that that shit should be against the law

It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does.

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Awesome. Thanks Google.

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Now, I don’t know all the details yet, but it seems a teacher has been arrested for the attempted murder of a 14-year-old pupil.

Allegedly he beat the kid unconscious using some kind of blunt instrument, hospitalising him, during a lesson.

Peter Harvey, his name is.

My new hero.

I bet every secondary school teacher in the country is offering a silent cheer for Peter Harvey today.

Because you just know the kid was asking for it.

Teachers don’t attempt to kick one of their kids to death without a very good reason.

I witnessed kids getting smacked around by teachers on a number of occasions when I was a schoolboy. It sometimes got quite nasty.

And on every occasion the kid fucking deserved it.

Even the time Mr M., a genuine psychotic, threw an axe at one of us. I expect this kid is no exception.

I hope he doesn’t die or have any serious lasting damage. That would be too much. But getting beat up by a middle-aged teacher is surely going to encourage him and his mates to shut the fuck up and stop being twats for while.

I’m going to petition the CPS to drop the case against Harvey. When that fails, I’ll petition the Home Secretary for a pardon.

And after he gets out, I’m going to petition my local school to hire him.

With a bit of luck, he’ll take out one or two of the brain-dead little chav pricks who just accused me of being a “fucking child molester” as I walked past them minding my own business half an hour ago.

I’m sick to death of having to endure David Mitchell moments whenever I walk down my own street, and if a couple of kids have to get beaten to death by their teachers for it to stop, so be it.

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“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

That’s a line guaranteed to get me to change channel. It’s a red flag that whatever it is I’m watching is almost certainly shite.

However, there are some moments in life when you suddenly have to re-evaluate everything you think you know.

I just had such a moment.

I was making a cup of tea and it came to me, apropos of nothing.

“Holy shit,” I thought. “Pearl Jam means cum.”

That band has been on my radar my entire adult life, and yet the idea that its name is surely a euphemism for semen had never occurred to me. I now have to evaluate their music in an entirely new light.

It’s moments like this that make me not know what to believe any more.

Like when I realised, after twenty years, that Jodie Foster wasn’t Australian.

Or when I realised it’s “another think coming” rather than “another thing coming”.

You have to start wondering what else you’re getting wrong. What other misapprehensions are rattling around the old grey matter? Which one will be shattered next?

Or, worse, which ones will I die still peripherally believing?

Will I go to my grave incorrectly believing that Andi Peters is gay? That Guyana is in South America? That “peripherally” means what I think it does?

It’s enough to drive a boy loopy.

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