Trevor McDogald
Wrong. Just wrong.
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Welcome to the DogTV News At Ten.
Trevor McDogald here, back on the nation’s flagship news programme with my supercilious manner and incomprehensible intonation. Allow my uniquely soporific delivery to gloss over the important events of the day, before my patronising wordplay enrages you just in time for your late night whiskey and perfunctory shot on the wife.
I’m the man you turn over for if you want to make it to the end of Fiona Bruce’s bulletin on the BBC without popping your cork. Look at me. Have you ever seen a grislier fucktard on your screen?
On tonight’s programme:
BONG: the latest news on Newcastle’s pub scene
BONG: a healthy dose of sensationalist scare-mongering to thrill inner city vigilantes.
BONG: a heart-warming tale for simpletons about a skateboarding badger
BONG: other shit.
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But first tonight, we bring you news of Grainger Town’s showpiece establishment Barluga.
Bill Neely is at the scene. Exciting news, Bill?
"Not exactly, Trevor McDogald. Long standing caviar-punting joke and insult to the surrounding architecture, Barluga has finally been given the old heave-ho to make way for a multi-million pound refit. However I understand that the refurbishment contract has been won by the company behind other Newcastle watering holes Perdu, the Quilted Camel and The Mushroom. Christ, that’s all we need. Another gloomy poncebar with stencilled wallpaper, dark wood and chocolate leather sofas. I dare say there’ll be some sort of revolutionary lighting system an’ all. Heaven help us."
Thanks, Bill.
Next: to Gengis, over the road and round a bit from Newcastle’s Central Station. Designed to look like a spare room you stripped but never got round to wallpapering, reports are coming in that it may in fact have closed in readiness for a new bar called Rendezvous.
Over to our 1980s correspondent, the late Leonard Parkin:
Leonard, you were still alive in the days when bars were saddled with shit, shit, shitty, shit names like Rendezvous. Can they really be making a comeback? I mean really, Leonard?
"Yes Trevor, it looks like those pathetic flaming torches have spluttered their last, raising the question: while the streets are plagued with idiots in retro Frankie Says T-shirts, and the fashion boutiques will only let your lass dress like Pepsi & Shirley or Adam and the Ants, could now be the time to go Back To The Future? I think so, Trevor."
Now, we received news back in December about the situation at the Haymarket’s Hotspur pub, but as the National News Handbook says, “If it ain’t in the capital, it ain’t worth a crapital”, we thought we’d wait a couple of weeks and present this as a scoop for all you provincial plebs.
You: new bird with the tits. What’s the Jacques Chirac?
"Well, Trevor, it seems there’s some sort of boycott going on. This all stems from a rather shortsighted decision by the new owners to change the management, ditch all but a smattering of the real ales and – some might say – fuck off the loyal punters good and proper. That's what I'm hearing."
Nothing positive to report then, by way of journalistic balance?
"Uh… they’re doing cheesy chips?"
(catatonic stare)
Join us after the break.
Welcome back.
In the shadow of St James’ Park, home to (standard issue media smirk) Newcastle United Football Club, The Strawberry pub has embarked on ambitious plans to add a rooftop beer garden to the rear of its historic premises.
Julian Manyon, can you tell us more?
"Yes, Trevor. It’s quite common nowadays for pubs to take a positive approach to the smoking ban, by offering an outdoor retreat for their customers. Ideal for all in the summer and heated for the needy in the winter, it’s felt that these constructions offer an acceptable compromise in the current economic climate. Might I add, Trevor, that a good I-dunno percent of Newcastle’s bars have applied for a licence to turn their bin sheds, pigeon crees and grubby front steps into al fresco smoking areas and swish European-style pavement café bars. The Clock on Clayton Street for examp…"
The Clock, Julian?
"Yes, Trevor: The Clock."
Fucking hell. Are you sure? F-u-c-k.
Now, it’s been an eyesore for months, but it looks as though the former Bzar pub is going to rise from the dead.
The latest now, from the clearly malnourished Romilly Weeks.
"Trevor, it’s finally happening. Billed as 'No.9 Groat Market', a new upmarket lounge bar will reclaim the basement area that once held the snooker club, add a lavish new portal, and reinstate feature windows where the blackboards used to be.
So finally a touch of class in the city’s legendary Bigg Market? I’m sure it will bring back the…
"…if I can just stop you there Trevor: news is coming in that the people behind this are the ones that are doing Barluga."
What?! Them fuckers again?
"It appears so, Trevor. This could be one for the Monopolies and Mergers commission. Looks like there’ll be another dingy smugfest in the faux-club style, one that even Fiddy fucking Cent would laugh at. And they’re building this in the luxury zone across the road from the JobCentre. I fear the worst."
Romilly. Thanks. I’ve got half a pasty here if you fancy it. Think you can keep it down?
Right, there’s just time to tell you that the student favourite The Hancock has had a spring clean, the Pig & Whistle is on its way to becoming Affinity at the front and Stealth at the back, and The Forth is closed for a bit while they tart it up. The Rose and Crown might have laid a new carpet, an' all. Join us on our later bulletin for more information, or press the red button for up-to-the-minute reports of sweet fuckity-fuck all.
The main stories tonight:
BONG: Newcastle has shit boozers coming out of its municipal ears.
BONG: I’m still the most punchable cunt on TV.
BONG: That’s yer lot.
The time is just past 10.28pm, now - with a thumb up her arsehole and her face presented in anamorphic widescreen – here’s Siân Lloyd with the cheerfully alarmist weather.
"Good evening. Hasn’t it been cold today? Brrr. There are no signs of improvement on the horizon, I’m afraid. Not for a while at least. Straights. If you look behind me you’ll see that it’s going to be absolutely bastard freezing for much of the country tomorrow – and for the next six months - with blizzards from the north, hailstorms from the Atlantic waft and a march of fucking penguins from somewhere else. Look. There. On me map. Proof. Better wrap up warm, with a nice, thick overcoat and a deerstalker or two. New ones. Bought off the internet. Remember: there’s no such thing as global warming. Goodnight."
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All this shit © 2008 The Burglar's Dog, except for the bits we ripped off itv.com.
Please don't sue us for stealing your newscasters' mugshots. You've got much better things to do. Like telling us the fucking FACTS about world events instead of looking the viewers in the eye and solemnly telling them that "no children were hurt", regardless of whether any frigging children were even at the scene. Fucking Newsround treats us more like grown-ups than you do, and that's the painful truth. You smarmy, over-graphical cunts. BONG.