The Eurovision crisis? It's all Greek to me, innit!/May 21st 2012.

Richie - We here in the Worcestershire village of Cum-to-Piddle raised a snifter in honour of your stunning victory in the Herbert Mulch Right-Wing Windbag of the Year Award! Thoroughly deserved, I say! Your contribution to Right Wing Windbaggerism is indeed second to non, sir! One wonders how you find the time to dash off two thoroughly researched articles per week in between watching endless box sets of classic British comedy from the 70s & 80s - articles which educate and inform the great British public about fascinating subjects such as wheelie bins, high-viz jackets, and how Labour and the Unions are to blame for all the world's ills! You have, Lord Richie, transformed into an art form the ability to avoid any mention of how the Dirty Aussie Digger turned this great nation into a servile Stasi-like state and your famous "soft-touch" journalism, which dare not take to task the bonkers Thatcherites who have over the years destroyed our industrial heritage, is nothing short of a master class for future Right Wing Windbags to behold! So, three cheers for Bwitain's Bestest Columnist I say! Hic Hic! (Fart!)

How to avoid airport security: Wear a burka/May 11th 2012.

Richie - Old Wob booked a romantic mystery weekend as a surprise for my dear Thai wife Mrs Bob No 3's birthday. Mrs Bob was so excited at her wonderful pressie that she decided to dress up in traditional Thai costume for the occasion. Well, there were gasps and applause from well wishers in our village as we emerged from Roberts Towers to our waiting limo (complete with flat screen tv and champers on tap!) Old Wob's comb-over and corsage well laquered and Mrs Bob's silken dress and immaculate hairdo worthy of the red carpet. But the day didn't go according to plan, Rich. The surprise destination was Luton which just happened to be hosting an EDL demo! Spying Mrs Bob in the back our limo was subjected to vile abuse from the raging fascist hoardes who accused her of being an Islamist and, worse, the daughter of Bin Laden. Of course, our weekend was ruined but no matter - as long as barmy right-wing-windbag stereotypes prevail all here in the UK will be fine, I say, innit! (Hic!) (Fart!)

Mr Justice Cocklecarrot and the Elf 'n' Safety Smurfs who had to escort 12 jurors across the road/May 8th 2012.

Richie - I must say, Lord Richie, you've incurred the wrath of Old Wob's loyal band of security operatives, car parking attendants and assorted high-vizzers. As head honcho of Bob Roberts Security4U I was organising the daily rota when I heard grumblings from my workforce about your esteemed column. "That Littlejohn is talking out of his hooter!" was the general tone of their complaints. As many of my employees are ex-forces they see your continual attacks upon low-paid hard-working men and women who are trying to keep our society secure and free of anti-social behaviour as a right kick in the goolies. "Littlejohn should come and do a 12 hour shift with us one night and see how he likes it!" they raged. Of course, Rich, I tried to explain that as Bwitain's Bestest Columnist it was your right to have a go at all and sundry but they wouldn't have it! Last I heard they were laying into the Dirty Aussie Digger for turning our country into a Stasi-like nightmare worthy of Kafka! Mad I say!

So that's why they're called Funny People/May 4th 2012.

Richie - Ooooh matron! How right you are to ignore the unelected Tory-led Coagulation's decimation in the local elections and concentrate on the alleged sexual peccadilloes of a deceased M16 officer! I must say, Lord Richie, we here in the village snug also carried out our own research into how a fully grown man could manage to climb into a holdall and lock himself in. Arthur Groat, octogenarian spoon-playing virtuoso of these parts, managed to fit his nimble frame inside the bag without difficulty and zipped it to within an inch of closure. Local burlesque queen Marcia Braithwaite, however, failed miserably to secure her well-rounded rear and jugs into our holdall and had to be rescued pronto by Old Wob's more than willing hands! It was Dr Singh, dressed in his jubilee underpants and snorkel suit, who took the plaudits though. In fact, he was so firmly ensconced that we had to take him to the local Fire Station to be cut free! Mad in ShamCam n Cleggy's paranoid & Bwoken Bwitain I say!

Freeze! It’s Dixon of Glock Green/May 1st 2012

Richie - How right you are to have an almighty hissy fit about our once beloved Plod! How dare the boys (and gals! PC! PC!) discard their mammary-shaped helmets for Ruskie balaclavas and their serrated rubber truncheons for glockenspiel pistols! But Plod isn't the only profession that's changed for the worst, Richie. Why, only yesterday I fell upon a money-grubbing rodent (formerly known as a journalist) rifling through my saucy neighbour Marcia Braithwaite's bins in the hope of discovering soiled undergarments or other items of titillation to splash across the front page. Having cornered the vile critter he confessed that his ambition was to usurp your good self as Bwitain's Bestest Columnist and dish the dirt on the great and the good and whoever else the Aussie Dirty Digger deems surplus to requirements! "I mean, it's every journos dream to have a gig like Littlejohn, mouthing off twice a week about Labour and the unions" he said. "That way you don't have to go out in the cold and do real research like wot I'm doin now!" Mad in ShamCam and Glegg's Bwoken Bwitain I say!