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How Hard Can It Be_ - Jeremy Clarkson
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Potato heads are talking rot on food
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2022-02-24 01:19:48
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Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
Dedication
How Hard Can It Be?
This has been my perfect week
It seems it ain’t art if it ain’t ethnic – Opinion
First, fairy cakes – then welding, kids – Opinion
Oi, state birdbrains – leave our land alone
Give it up, Hamza – you’re too ugly
Skiing through the pain barrier
Bleep off, you’re driving me mad
Oi, shoppers – that’s my petrol
Join me in a saucy oath to Britain
Ruck off, you nancy Aussies
Time to save the world again, lads
Potato heads are talking rot on food
I’d rather hire a dog than a prostitute
Pricking science’s silly sausages
Feed them, or they’ll slash all the seats
A vicious Japanese loo ruined my ah so
Argh! I’ve fallen into a speed trap
It’s just a dumb animal, Mr Oddie
Swim with sharks – it’s easy money
Oi, get your hands off my lap dancers
Dante’s new hell: my work canteen
Look, Mr McChap – you’re part of Britain, so just get over it
Now we’re for it: we’ve stopped behaving badly
Working while on holiday is … wow, just look at that
By ’eck, our funny accents are the envy of the world
Peep in my wife’s knicker drawer and see what you get
Miss Street-Porter, I have a job for you in Cambodia
Hey, let’s live fast and die when ministers tell us to
Don’t let banks lose your money – do it yourself
Fingers on buzzers, you bunch of ignorant twerps
Play it my way, kids, and you’ll save rock’n’roll
Ditch the laptop and suit if you wanna stay alive, Mr Corporate
Take in a prisoner as a lodger and that’s two problems solved
Wake up and smell the coffee – tea is for morons
Into the breach, normal people, and sod the polar bears
The daddy of all idiots at your child’s school sports day
I’m a Tigger, he’s a Piglet, and you must be a Pooh
Sorry, worms, you won’t be getting a piece of me
The BBC’s letting loonies gag me with mink knickers
Ambulance, quick – some idiot’s had a brainwave
Save the high street – ditch bad service and ugly sales girls
Ring a ring o’ clipboards – we all fall down
The world will never be safe until Scrabble is banned
Run for cover – Pooh the Dark Knight is coming
Get another round in, lads – we’ve got some pubs to save
Come quick, Nurse – the NHS is going frightfully green
I dare you to visit Johannesburg, the city for softies
Class-A cocoa, the powder of choice on my crock’n’roll tour
I’m starting divorce proceedings in this special relationship
You’re a bunch of overpaid nancies – and I love you
Stand still, wimp – only failures run off to be expats
It’s pure hell in the mountainous Cotswold region
What a difference now I’ve stopped drinking fish fingers
Gordon the ass is stomping over everyone’s pets
Change fast, before we all gag on the fabric of British life
Okay, you’ve got me bang to rights – I’m a secret green
I’ll be right there, Sir Ranulph – must conquer the sofa first
Letting beavers loose in Scotland is a dam-fool idea
Say cheese, darling – I’ll stick on your horse’s ears later
Now there’s a first – my elephant has just exploded
No, I won’t wear a tiara, if it’s all the same to you
I’m not superstitious, Officer, but it’s bad karma to harry a druid
After three brushes with death in planes I want a parachute
Just one word and my T-shirt offends the whole of Japan
Stop, you’re digging an early grave with that garden trowel
The conquerors are coming, Pierre – we Brits need more land
Soaking up the raw emotion of the best beetroot contest
Nurse! The OAP mods are bashing the wrinkly rockers
Dr Useless, what’s the Canadian word for ‘lousy care’?
It’s just not fair – donkeys get all the breaks
Forget Antigua, 007 – all the real action is in Acacia Avenue
Mad Johnny Baa Lamb is here to save the pit bulls
Up to the waist in Brown’s slurry on my new farm
Help, quick – I’ve unscrewed the top on a ticking bomb
Cleverness is no more. It has ceased to be. This is a dumb Britain
I’ve got a solution for the rainforest: napalm the lot
Get me a rope before Mandelson wipes us all out
Stop the game, ref. We’re all too cross to play by the rules
Call me a spoilsport but I’m glad my dad wasn’t a lesbian
I’m so dead – shot by both sides in the website war
Sing about the fat man again and I’ll shoot Tiny Tim
The BA strike is off – so that’s many a Christmas ruined
So, Piggy, Buttocks and Rat – what shall we call Gordon?
Footnote
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