Punch a Z-Lister Today

I had a pretty traumatic Friday. First off, it was the day of the funeral of one of my neighbours, who died unexpectedly the previous week. Being one of the few neighbours I either knew or got on with, as a mark of respect I made sure that I was on hand to see the funeral cortege depart from the house. Now, as if that wasn't upsetting enough, as I was walking back to my car, I saw a vaguely familiar figure coming towards me down the street. Wearing a stupid wide-brimmed hat, I recognised none other than minor TV 'personality' Nick Knowles. The trouble was that I wasn't 100% sure it was that twat from the telly, or I'd have smacked him in the face. At the very least I would have shouted at him to show some respect and take his fucking hat off for the funeral procession. Mind you, I'm pretty sure it was him - he gave me that look that all z-listers give you when they think that you should recognise them. Trust me, I'm an expert on such looks, I've had the likes of Robson Green and some bloke from Emmerdale give them to me.

Sadly, I didn't think to check where he was going after he passed me. I later had this nasty thought that maybe it was him who'd bought one of the two houses recently sold on my terrace. For fuck's sake, that's the last thing I want, Nick fucking Knowles and his DIY SOS nonsense on my street! Once one of the bastards moves in, you can guarantee that others will follow. Z-list celebrity infestations have to be resisted at all costs. It might start harmlessly enough with home improvement show presenters turning up, but next thing you know, you'll have Amy Winehouse puking up on your doorstep and Pete Doherty shooting up in your spare room. So, take my advice, in order to avoid such a nightmare in your neighbourhood, next time you see a Z-lister wandering down your street, punch the bastard in the face.