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The holy trinity of TV t***tery


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We all know about Clarkson, the smug, pompous, self-congratulatory w***stain on the face of television.


Then there is Inverdale, the sickly, massive-headed, public school ponce who oozes oil all over sport.


The third member of this vomit-inducing trio? Allow me to make a case for Nick Knowles. The apogee of the blokey, matey geezer who'll have a 'laugh' with the guys down the pub, and at the same time is a vapid, bottomless well of faux sincerity. His omnipresence over recent months on everything from daytime to primetime, his huge bloke-bonce looming from the TV screen, yearning to be pasted with a heavy shovel, is yet more proof of the very nadir of BBC television, whose crimes of fakery and fraud are as nothing compared to its self-evident belief in Knowles's ability to connect with the viewing moron.


Piss off, Knowles. And when you've finished pissing off, piss off a lot more.

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