Charlie Brooker's 2015 Wipe

This programme contains some strong language and adult humour

Hello. I'm Charlie Brooker and you're watching 2015 Wipe,

a programme about things that happened in 2015.

Things like this.

Storm Desmond swept in, giving Britain its annual bath.

On Sky News, Jeremy Corbyn sang happy birthday to a flood victim

and reduced her to tears.

Thereby adding to the floodwaters, the idiot.

Sky News grief vampire Kay Burley tweeted a picture of a dog

looking sad after the Paris attacks.

It's heartening really to know that even a simple animal

can post photos like that on Twitter.

In a mortifying TV moment at the Brit Awards,

Madonna was accidentally yanked downstairs by a minion.

In case you're wondering how it feels

to be pulled off by a dancer in front of an audience of record execs,

ask your dad.

Fans were ecstatic at the release of a thrilling new Star Wars film.

If you haven't seen it and you're worried about spoilers,

just close your eyes for two seconds.

OK, you can open them now.

Oh, shit, sorry. Thought you still had them closed.

There were incredible scenes

as British astronaut Tim Peake blasted into space.

He's on a daring mission to rescue the man stranded on the moon

in that trite and sentimental John Lewis advert.

They called him a hero but, the way the world's going,

he looks more like a guy chickening out and using an escape pod.

All well and good but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Let's start at the beginning.

Usually, the first few weeks of January are kind of uneventful.

Not this time.

Barbaric scenes in Paris.

12 people have been shot dead

after masked men stormed the offices of a French magazine.

SHOUTING

GUNSHOTS

Oh, God, sorry, everyone.

I was hoping to keep it light for the first five minutes

of this year's show but this is what happened. Bloody world.

In the days that followed,

a depressing cancan of world leaders shuffled along a Parisian street

while countless citizens pledged

their commitment to freedom of speech.

While, on apocalypse-ready Fox News, massive anchors were on hand

to suggest a nuanced response to the threat

at the very top of their lungs.

We need to kill them.

We need to kill them.

Bomb them,

bomb them

and bomb them again.

Still, January wasn't exclusively depressing.

No, because an advert appeared

which was apparently the funniest thing ever.

# Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me... #

Yes, this light-hearted commercial

in which a sort of disturbing half-Apprentice contender,

half-Beyonce centaur, twerks his way round the city streets,

became officially the most hilarious thing that's ever happened.

Soon, the man behind,

or, more accurately, inside Dave's Epic Strut,

was appearing in all manner of promo opportunities around the capital.

He even appeared on daytime culture stalwart This Morning

to meet Amanda and Phil.

Ooh!

Epic.

Ha-ha-ha! I've forgotten about Charlie Hebdo already.

Later in the year, the Sun newspaper

mocked up a psycho-sexually confusing front-page image

of George Osborne doing the Epic Strut

after it was impressed with his budget.

Tell you what, this is going in my big scrapbook

of sexy George Osborne pictures.

What do you make of your picture on the front of the Sun this morning?

-Are you happy with that?

-Well, it's...

Yeah, I almost spilt my coffee this morning

when I read the front page of the Sun.

Yeah, whatever, shut up.

Come on, give us a twirl. Show us your legs.

February was a month when humankind was bitterly divided over colours.

Thanks to a mundane photo on social media,

this became the single most notorious dress since the one Bill Clinton

accidentally laminated in the Oval Office.

Problem was no-one could agree what colour the dress was,

something every news show on earth expertly illustrated

with fascinating vox pops.

I'm going to go with blue.

-Lilac.

-It's blue.

-Well, now it's black and blue, actually.

-No, it's not.

Yes, it is.

You know there's a war on, yeah? What colour do you think THAT is?

According to the boffins, your reaction to the dress

depended largely on how your brain works,

ie if your brain works, you couldn't give a shit what colour it is.

In illuminating scenes on Sky News,

Kay Burley was so bamboozled gawping at the dress

she couldn't see she was trying to talk to a still image of a man

instead of a live human.

Joining us live from Cardiff, is Dr Ashley Wood,

a lecturer at the School of Optometry and Vision Science.

Thank you very much indeed for joining us on Sky News

this afternoon. What colour did you see it as, first of all?

Look at the sadness in his eyes.

There was this sort of film thing called Fifty Shades of Grey.

It was like a cross between a romantic drama

and a documentary warning women about a maniac on the loose.

There was this woman in it who found herself

in a submissive violent relationship with a dominant man.

She goes to interview this rich businessman called Christian Grey

who's become a billionaire

despite not being able to pull facial expressions.

How about we try a few with a smile?

He's a massively successful billionaire CEO

with his name all up in huge lettering on stuff he owns.

Like Donald Trump but younger and better looking.

And a bit less of a burgeoning fascist tyrant

who the world must stop at any cost.

Actually, he sort of looks like Colin Firth but done in Lego.

You can see why she falls for him.

He's handsome, he's rich,

he flies around in a helicopter,

he plays the piano with his tits out

and he's got a secret red room

containing the world's biggest collection of bum sticks

and things you hit horses with.

Anyway, at the start of the film,

he's a characterless, controlling sadist

but, gradually, as their relationship blossoms,

he stays that way.

It's basically a film adaptation of Punch and Judy

because it's about this weird wooden man who enjoys beating a woman

but without the bit where a crocodile steals some sausages.

Which might have redeemed it.

As a film, it looks glossy and modern

but it's basically your old-fashioned standard romance.

Boy meets girl,

boy psychologically dominates girl,

girl acquiesces to boy's every demand,

boy hits girl with crop,

boy hits girl with fluffy stick thing,

boy ties girl up and yanks girl's hair,

boy hits girl with belt

and girl leaves boy having explored

the wilder fringes of her own sexuality

in a carefully controlled, albeit unrealistic environment.

Way back in 2014, controversial human exhaust pipe Jeremy Clarkson

had run into trouble for allegedly using a racist word

in a Top Gear outtake,

after which he was on his final warning with the BBC,

so all he had to do in 2015 was keep a low profile.

Maybe not punch anybody.

Should be easy.

Just to tell you that we are just hearing from the BBC

that Jeremy Clarkson has been suspended.

Oh, Jeremy!

At first, it wasn't quite clear what had happened.

The BBC would only say Clarkson had been involved in a fracas,

a word which was soon dancing awkwardly across the lips

of every newsreader on earth.

What the BBC call a fracas.

-Fracas.

-Fracas.

-Fracas.

-Supposed fracas.

-Fracas.

-Fracas.

What do you make of the term a fracas?

It was a PR fracas-trophe.

It turned out that, following a strenuous day's work

being filmed driving cars in exchange for many thousands of pounds,

Clarkson had retired to this hotel, ordered a steak

and discovered he could only have a cold meat platter,

which he turned down in favour of some red-hot beef.

While Clarkson hung in limbo, the media camped outside his London pad

peering at him through long lenses as he paced around

like a depressed polar bear, smoking like polar bears don't.

Meanwhile, at street level,

a campaign for his reinstatement was beginning to gather steam.

David Cameron said he hoped he'd be back on TV.

I hope this can be sorted out

because it's a great programme and he's a great talent.

While gladiator Russell Crowe said he could empathise.

The thing that I'm sympathetic about towards Jeremy

in this particular instance, is I know how long a day can be.

Yeah, we've all got clocks, mate.

So, if he's made a statement, "Look, I'll go as hard as I can

"all day long and all I need at the end of the day is something to eat,"

I don't think that sounds to me like an unreasonable request.

No, but it sounds like a pretty good personal mission statement.

Things were becoming more and more fraught

and, as over a million people signed a petition for his reinstatement,

it looked like the whole thing might spark a civil war.

Just going to show you some pictures from outside this building,

namely Broadcasting House in central London,

where a petition calling for the reinstatement of Jeremy Clarkson

to Top Gear has been delivered to the BBC.

Anyway, eventually, the BBC made their decision.

Top Gear presenter Jeremy Clarkson has been dropped from the show.

The news then suddenly became a kind of weird obituary

with people queueing up to pay tribute as though Clarkson had died.

Even the Director-General joined in.

I've always been a great fan of his work on Top Gear

and I also believe that his voice and voices like his have a place,

an important place, on the BBC.

AS CLARKSON: That's good to know

so, as long as I carry on speaking like this,

my future at the BBC is assured.

What is it with the Venezuelans?

Bloody animals.

Anyway, now Clarkson had gone,

there was the little question of where he'd end up.

Presumably, he could pick and choose his job offers

and we all know how he does that, as seen in this simulation.

Watch, because this is how you do it.

Eeny, meeny, minie...

No!

Hello. Back in the spring, as you probably remember,

I suddenly became un-busy.

Yes, as this light-hearted advert made clear,

in the end, he went with Amazon,

although it's only a matter of time until he insults the Amazonians.

They're definitely going to fire him if he uses the N-word.

Netflix.

Expectant car fans already can't wait for the new show to launch.

I've got a preview here of exactly the kind of

tantalising spinning-wheel action they can expect.

Also in March, celebrity hunchback King Richard III had burial II.

They'd dug him up a few years ago and tried to bring him back to life

by sticking a plasticine face on him but that hadn't worked.

He'd stayed dead.

So now they were planning to throw him back in the ground

a bit like lobbing back a fish you don't want.

As the startling news coverage made clear,

R3-D2 now got the respectful burial he'd been denied in life

centuries too late and at great expense

in the weirdest and most arcane royal event since every single other one.

That is an event which will only take place once in all eternity.

You know this is his second burial?

He'll probably want another one next year, the diva.

Old Dickie Double-Coffin, that's what I call him.

Soon his royal deadness was lying in Leicester Cathedral

disguised as a wooden AT-AT walker from Empire Strikes Back

while funeral-likers stood outside

watching on a traditional Jumbotron screen

soaking up the comprehensive coverage

as Heritage Bandersnatch read a sombre poem

specially written for the occasion by the Poet Laureate.

My bones,

scripted in light upon cold soil...

Nothing like bloody poetry to bring the mood down at a good funeral.

Finally, the entire nation watched in silent solemnity

as a group of uniformed men filed into the back of Leicester Cathedral

to lovingly bury their Dick in the ground.

Cor, look, you can see him going in.

In April, there was no ignoring the forthcoming general election.

As the election campaign began,

honey-roast Prime Minister David Cameron,

seen here frequenting his local dead pig parlour,

came in for some criticism.

People were saying his heart wasn't in it

as he didn't want to serve three terms.

Terms are like Shredded Wheat.

Two are wonderful and three might just be too many.

I'm surprised he eats Shredded Wheat for breakfast. I don't know why,

I just always pictured him getting stuck into some bacon.

HRH Cam Sandwich was also accused of avoiding debate,

which is something of a character trait,

what with his weird habit of abruptly walking out of shot

the nanosecond he's had enough of answering reporters' questions.

I don't know why he keeps walking away like that.

Maybe he's one of those shy Tories they keep going on about.

It's easy to see why he'd be daunted by his chief opponent,

human balloon animal Ed Miliband,

a fiery public speaker accustomed to winning over audiences

with his powerful rhetoric and catchphrases like Uh!

Uh!

APPLAUSE

Miliband had something of an image problem,

which wasn't exactly helped when, in an early head-to-head meeting

with weary human fight Jeremy Paxman,

he dealt with questions about his leadership qualities

about as convincingly as Stevie Wonder

auditioning for the lead role in American Sniper.

The point is people think you're just not tough enough.

Well, let me tell you, right,

let me tell you, OK,

let me tell you.

Quick, everyone, set perineum to cringe.

Am I tough enuss? Tough enough?

Hell yes, I'm tough enough.

But, in the weeks that followed,

Miliband began shedding the geek image,

developing the kind of carefree, approachable persona

that can only be pummelled into you by weeks of intensive media training.

Some people felt he was no longer an embarrassment but a heartthrob,

Edward Boy-band with a growing army of admirers known as the Milifandom,

who cluttered up the Internet with sexy fantasy imagery.

Cameron, by contrast, seemed a little underpowered

and was making uncharacteristic campaign gaffes.

He got a little too close to a farm animal

for the first time in his life.

He was photographed eating a hot dog with a knife and fork.

Good to see him treating a pork product

with all the respect it deserves.

And, on Sky News, he forgot which football team he pretends to support,

accidentally naming a different team instead of his beloved Aston Villa.

Where you can support Man United,

the Windies and Team GB all at the same time.

Of course, I'd rather you supported West Ham.

Erm...

HE LAUGHS AWKWARDLY

West Ham?

Why is he obsessed with ham?

Meanwhile, down-to-earth toff of the people George Osborne

was all over the media trying to artificially inflate

Britain's employment stats by doing

almost every flavour of manual job imaginable.

Oh, that's another one for the scrapbook.

Look at him, he's so good with his hands.

He was constantly in hi-vis working in factories, looking at plans,

operating diggers, breaking into the Hatton Garden safe deposit company...

Hang on a minute!

You've just found an extra £8 billion.

All I'm asking is where does it come from?

No higher taxes, extra public spending cuts. Where?

Of course, Labour v Tory was only one part of the story.

There was no escaping the new multiplicity in the leaders' debate

as a full peacock's tail feather of different parties fanned out

to debate the big issues

in scenes resembling a Fifteen to One wannabe tyrant special.

This provided a great public hearing for Ukip's Nigel Farage

who finally had got the chance

to debate Britain's out-of-control multiculturalism

with six other white people.

He tried to win over the crowd in the first debate

with some populist AIDS-patient bashing.

There are 7,000 diagnoses

in this country every year

for people who are HIV-positive.

60% of them

are not British nationals.

Yeah, you tell them, Nige.

Bloody foreigners, coming over here guzzling our medicine.

They're not just ill, they're greedy.

Tiny Trump wasn't having the best time of it this campaign.

He looked tired and fed up

and even turned on the audience and the metropolitan BBC

during debate number 76.

There just seems to be a total lack of comprehension on this panel,

and indeed amongst this audience, which is a remarkable audience

even by the left wing standards of the BBC,

this lot's pretty left wing, believe me.

To be fair, the BBC had been subjecting him

to some pretty uncompromising questions throughout the campaign.

-Did you see the Paddington Bear movie last year?

-No.

Racist!

Meanwhile in the Lib Dem camp,

Deputy PM Nick Clegg seemed to have decided

to enjoy his last few weeks in the spotlight.

He was out touring the country

like a One Show reporter doing a guide

to days out for less with the family.

He went bowling, he dangled off a zip wire,

and he dawdled around at a hedgehog sanctuary.

Really poorly, she's got maggots in every orifice.

He seemed to be prematurely off duty,

kind of relaxed, even apparently enjoying the abuse he was getting

on social media, if this illuminating Sun video was anything to go by.

HE READS TWEET

That's nice, Tom(!)

Faring rather better was the SNP.

They'd been growing in confidence

ever since they finished an impressive second

in last year's yes/no referendum.

And now they had a new, media friendly leader

in the form of fiery pepper pot Nicola Sturgeon,

who became super-popular super-fast,

posing for selfies all over the shop like a Tartan Kardashian.

The prospect of Scotland wielding some power seemed terrifying

to some quarters of the press and stoking English fears

of this Scottish resurgence was one Tory tactic

that seemed to be gaining traction.

Maybe that's why, in the final days of the campaign,

Cameron seemed notably fired up.

He was out, making bold claims.

Will you put to bed rumours that you plan to cut child tax credit

and restrict child benefit to two children?

Well, thank you, Jenny, for that question.

No, I don't want to do that.

And giving good pep talk.

Taking a risk, having a punt, having a go, that pumps me up

and it's what is changing our country.

Look at that. He's gone Pinky AND Perky.

Meanwhile, Ed Miliband was trying to make his own populist appeals

by turning up to talk poli-icks with shag-happy Che Guevara Russell Brand.

-The Tories want to say, "This is as good as it gets."

-Yeah.

And this isn't as good as it gets for the country.

He also unveiled a granite-based equal rights for stones policy.

He's had his campaign pledges engraved

on an 8ft tall tablet of limestone.

They're carved in stone

because they won't be abandoned after the General Election.

I want the British people to remember these pledges,

to remind us of these pledges.

Yeah, hi, Ed, do you remember the time

you carved a load of pledges on a massive stone?

PHONE DISCONNECTS Oh he's hung up.

But no matter what the leaders said, did,

or fell off, it seemed the polls were stubbornly failing to shift.

But what if the polling agencies have got it just a little bit wrong?

Welcome to the BBC's Election Centre.

Four minutes from now, when Big Ben strikes ten,

we can legally reveal the contents of this, our exit poll.

"MASTERMIND" THEME PLAYS It promised to be an epic marathon

of constitutional chaos you'd need a degree in wonkology to sort out.

That's why I'm set for the longest election night ever

weeks of negotiation and number crunching

and I'm prepared for it all.

To make sense of the results, I've got a load of laptops,

I've got a slide rule, a copy of the parliamentary guidelines,

that 5D swingometer, Paul the Octopus,

a ZX Spectrum, I've got a soothsayer -

and to help me stay awake,

I've got a thermos flask full of coffee to swig from,

I've got a bucket to piss and shit in

and a platter of performance enhancing drugs.

So, come on, hit me with the exit poll.

Come on, tell me just how complicated and drawn-out this is going to be.

I can't wait, it's going to be good!

-BIG BEN CHIMES

-Here it is, ten o'clock,

and we are saying the Conservatives are the largest party.

Oh, what? Bloody octopus is broken.

It seems voters had been trolling the pollsters all along.

It's hard to know how they could make opinion polls any more accurate.

Maybe they should ask TWO questions.

One - who are you going to vote for

and two - no, really, who are you going to vote for?

Meanwhile, back in Election Night,

while the Tories chortled their socks off,

a full-blown Red Wedding was occurring for the other parties,

as one well-known face after another was toppled.

Vince Cable. Jim Murphy.

Danny Alexander.

Simon Hughes. Ed Balls. Zayn Malik -

they all naffed off to Oblivion Villas.

And then the great purge began.

Nigel Farage temporarily sent himself back to where he came from.

And I will consider over the course of the summer

whether to put my name forward to do that job again.

Nick Clegg showed himself the door.

I will be resigning as leader of the Liberal Democrats.

And Ed Miliband announced a 100% cut in himself.

So I'm tendering my resignation,

taking effect after this afternoon's commemoration

of VE Day at the Cenotaph.

Must've been a bit depressing for Eddie Baby.

Suppose the only way it could've been any more depressing

is if, a few hours later, he had to stand beside

the bloke who beat him laying a wreath

to a mournful musical accompaniment,

in a waking nightmare symbolising the death of his electoral dreams.

I mean, thank God he didn't have to do that.

Soon, Cambo and Sam, seen here in a white and gold dress,

were back at Number 10 while on daytime TV postmortems,

some Labour supporters were left sounding a little bitter.

But I think the way the election went,

it just kind of shows that this country doesn't deserve a leader

who's got so much integrity and principles.

I think Ed Miliband's too good for this fucking country, to be honest.

-No, no, you can't swear on daytime television.

-Oh, sorry.

I will apologise and would you like to apologise, too?

Yes, I'd like to apologise.

I shouldn't have sworn, it was very bad of me.

June saw the shocking conclusion of the fifth season of Game of Thrones.

It's based on Lord of the Rings by William Shakespeare.

It's set in sort of series one Blackadder times,

before dragons became extinct.

Pretty much every British actor ever has shown up in it at some point.

I think it's like jury service and they get called up.

It goes on for ages and you never know who's going to die next,

like Last of the Summer Wine.

One of the main characters is called Jon Snow.

He's a kind of anguished hero with exceptional hair,

which is quite an achievement

when you think about how hard it must be to maintain

a half-decent male grooming regime by candlelight

in a violent fantasy realm.

Loads of things have happened to Jon Snow,

every moment of his life has been an incredible journey.

He's looked miserable in forests and looked miserable in the snow,

he's looked miserable during the night and miserable during the day

and miserable because he was about to get off with this beautiful woman

and miserable when she shot him with an arrow and miserable in a castle

and miserable in a boat looking at a sort of zombie monster thing.

He's been on this sort of flat roller-coaster of one emotion,

which is misery.

Until, this year, he got knifed by some of the other characters.

I'm not sure why, but I think he stole someone's watch.

For the Watch.

And so then he was left looking miserable on his back in the snow.

But properly miserable this time

because, let me tell you, getting stabbed really stings.

Oh, look at the sadness in his eyes!

Now, throughout the year,

feminism has been in the headlines for one reason or another.

There were debates about sexism on the internet,

and as this illuminating coverage showed, women in Saudi Arabia

won the right to vote and pose for virtually meaningless selfies.

Here to explore feminism is Philomena Cunk

with one of her Moments of Wonder.

We used to think men were from Mars and women were from Venus,

but scientists now believe they both hatched on Earth thousands,

maybe even hundreds of years ago.

But even though there have probably been women on the planet

as long as men, for most of that time,

the two sides haven't been equal.

The only things that make a woman different from a man

are her breasts and vagina and also his testicles and penis.

It's easy to see how these fearsome and almighty genitals

convinced generations of men that they were superior.

Back in Queen Victorian times, women weren't allowed to vote,

even though we had a female king,

so some women formed a gang called the Suffragettes.

The Suffragettes did things

that were considered shocking at the time,

like throwing themselves in front of the King's racehorse.

They did this partly to highlight

how unfair it was that women didn't have a vote, but horses did

and also because, being women, they really liked ponies.

They also went on hunger strike,

sparking the cool fad for women's diets that continues to this day.

The Suffragettes opened doors for millions of women,

whereas before, they had to wait for men to open those doors for them.

If it wasn't for the Suffragettes,

I probably wouldn't be standing here now.

I'd be in a kitchen where I belong.

Amazingly, it took until 1928 for the women of Britain to be

given a vote and not just a vote, but a vote each, which is fairer.

Even though women had a vote, they were still second class,

like a shit stamp,

so in the 1960s century, there was a new wave of femininists.

Back in old but still in colour times,

women were seen as eye candy,

which are sweets you eat just by looking at them.

Then, in 1970, femininists protested at the Miss World show

and threw ink bombs at Bob Hope, ruining his chances of winning.

Today, shallow beauty contests are unacceptable

and women are more visible everywhere,

taking important roles in landmark

high quality television programmes

like Game of Thrones

and True Detective.

Despite all that,

today, a woman's half as likely to earn over £50,000 a year

than a man and, to add insult to injury,

that money will most likely have a picture of a man on it

because most bank notes don't have women on them.

Apart from the Queen, who's on all of them.

'But what is femininism, anyway?

'To find out more, I asked an expert.'

Hello. Who are you?

I'm Mary Evans.

I'm a centennial professor at the Gender Institute

at the London School of Economics.

And what is a femininist?

A feminist is a person, male or female, who thinks that women

should have the same human and civic rights as men.

Can a femininist wear make-up?

Well, I'm wearing it at the moment

and so I would think that's perfectly possible.

What if they found out? They might cast you out, do you think?

I'm not sure who would cast me out.

I don't think people go around casting people out.

If men were women,

do you think they'd have been better at doing femininism than we are?

I don't think men would be any better than women are

at putting forward the feminist case.

They're always thinking about sex, aren't they?

Like a lot of people, they're thinking about

how to pay their mortgages, how to put food on the table.

-There are lots of questions to fill up everybody's daily lives.

-Mm.

So, they're just like us, really, aren't they?

They've got their own little personalities.

I think they have and some of those personalities

are a lot littler than other personalities,

-but there are certainly a very, very rich range of them.

-Yeah.

When a femininist looks in the mirror,

-do they see an equal woman or a better woman?

-Erm...

They quite often, like all of us,

look for what they want to see and they look for what they hope to see.

You see yourself back to front, don't you, in a mirror,

but not upside down. Why's that?

Well, hopefully because that's the way that mirrors are designed.

What powers a mirror?

-Sorry, you're not the mirrors expert, are you?

-I'm afraid not.

How far have we come?

Men in vans still whistle at women in the street,

though, thanks to femininism, the man in the van might be a woman

and the woman they're whistling at might be a Prime Minister.

Next time on Moments of Wonder,

I'll be asking why is the world's hair such a weird colour.

Following the general election, the Labour Party was left

wandering around in the wilderness, not knowing what to do with itself,

a bit like Howard from Take That in the late '90s.

So they held a leadership raffle to see who could run the party next.

The main three contenders were all professional politicians

and you could tell they were professional

because they were hard to relate to on any basic human level.

I mean, really, look into Andy Burnham's eyes

and you experience exactly the same sensation you'd get

gazing at a face scribbled on a kitchen appliance.

Anyway, the contest was set to go ahead until...

We've just heard in the last few seconds

that the veteran left wing MP Jeremy Corbyn

has secured his place in the Labour leadership race.

Yes, at the last minute, a bunch of MPs added someone

called Jeremy Corbyn to the list for a laugh

to see what would happen.

The previously unheard-of backbencher,

who bore a resemblance to everyone from an old history teacher

to an old history supply teacher,

had gone unnoticed for decades, but now he was everywhere.

And his weird gimmick was that he didn't have a gimmick.

He dresses like a politician from archive footage,

specifically Jeremy Corbyn in 1984.

-Is that the jumper that your mum made?

-Yes, it is.

She didn't make the shirt as well, I suppose?

No, she didn't. That came from the Co-op.

And what that means is rather than looking polished,

he looks sort of normal. He looks like just some bloke,

someone you might see trying to buy a grab bag of salt and vinegar Discos

at a motorway service station branch of Smiths

and having to call for assistance

because the sensor thing can't read the barcode.

And, these days, that's inspiring.

To use a highbrow allusion, putting Jeremy "Normal" Corbyn

into the media glare alongside the 'professional' politicos

was a bit like when they put Chantelle,

who at the time was a normal member of the public,

into Celebrity Big Brother season four,

and she quickly won over viewers

just by not being one of the elite she was sharing a space with.

If Corbynmania was like that, there was every chance

that just like Chantelle, he might win.

Or at least get off with Preston.

Sure enough, Corbyn soon started building support

with people queuing round the block to see him.

Months ago, no-one even knew who he was and now suddenly

people would pack a hall to the rafters

just to watch him piss in a teacup.

And his anti-establishment stance was starting to win an audience.

There is a quote from you in The Sun newspaper today

from a video you did.

Would you stand by those remarks?

I don't know what the remarks are

because I don't buy The Sun newspaper.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Labour were furious.

Under Miliband, the leadership rules had changed,

meaning ANYONE could join the party and have a vote for £3.

It's just silly. Labour's supposed to represent the voice of the people -

you can't let just anyone have a say in that.

Labour weren't the only critics of the potential Labour leader -

some did their best to paint him as the ultimate red menace.

Even Panorama seemed to be trying to make him seem sinister,

which was quite a tall order given his appearance

was about as non-threatening as it gets.

We heard him singing socialist anthems...

..saw him mingling with Tory-hating hardliners...

Get your grubby hands off it, you thieving Tory bastard!

..and heard chilling tales of Corbyn's true nature

from those who knew him best.

So, for example, if you ran into him on a train,

as I have done on one occasion,

he'll immediately get out his box of sandwiches, which are vegetarian,

of course, and cut them in half and give half to you.

That means he carries a knife on a train.

And look, look, his shadow's out of sync with his body,

that's weird! It probably means he's a vampire or something.

That voice cannot be silenced. That voice cannot be stopped.

That power cannot be denied.

In the end, party members and anyone with a spare three quid

knocking around ignored all the warnings and elected Corbyn leader.

..Jeremy Corbyn elected as leader of the Labour Party.

CHEERING

Aw, look at the sadness in Andy Burnham's eyes.

The news media soon made it apparent old Corbachev

had an unusual manner with reporters, almost as if he didn't like them.

-There's people bothering me.

-We're not bothering you.

-Yes, you are.

We're from the press.

This was possibly because they'd been criticising

the way his cabinet was put together and accusing him of links

with anti-Semites and terrorist sympathisers.

Then again, the press went out of its way

to criticise him for more or less everything.

They accused him of being scruffy,

of failing to sing the national anthem,

dithering about kneeling in front of the Queen.

not bowing with a sufficiently respectful angle at the cenotaph.

and using a stunt dog double to win Britain's Got Talent.

Of course, Red Jez couldn't avoid media attention forever

and was eventually forced to do the rounds,

at which point his unrehearsed style

even surprised some of the reporters.

Normally, politicians,

they know their answers before you've even asked the question,

but Jeremy Corbyn last night almost seemed to be thinking aloud.

Thing is sometimes it was hard to tell whether Corbyn's brand

of scruffy unprofessionalism made him refreshing or, well, just a bit crap.

Like when during his big conference speech

he read the instruction "strong message here" off the autocue.

And - strong message here - NOT cutting student numbers.

Haha! Bloody amateur! CB lifts mug and drinks coffee.

Stupid Corbyn! Cut to footage of Corbyn.

But, of course, Corbyn has bigger problems than mere autocue gaffes.

For one thing, he's broadly viewed as a throwback

to a long-forgotten era of militant leftist politics,

most of his own MPs didn't really want him as leader,

he seems incapable of keeping dissent in check within his own party

and his ideological stance puts him at odds

with huge swathes of the electorate.

Add it all together and many would say

he's completely and utterly unelectable.

Yeah, well, that's what they said about Ed Miliband.

The Tories were delighted by Corbyn's victory

and, later in the year, used their conference

as an opportunity to try and seize the centre ground.

We are the builders.

The problem with straddling left and right

is you end up in an awkward position, as this photo proved.

Nice spread leg shot - another one for the scrapbook.

The man of the moment was also on hand

to only mildly gloat about the election results.

I don't know about you, but it only takes two words to cheer me up.

Pig's mouth? Sorry, couldn't help it.

Exit poll.

Oh, right. Yeah.

He also took the time to fling some cuss at Corbyn

by taking something he'd said about Osama Bin Laden out of context.

He thinks the death of Osama Bin Laden was a tragedy.

God, it'd be AWFUL if we found some things Cameron had said

and used them out of context.

Do you know what? Christians and Muslims,

we can't really live together

and suicide bombing's all right in Israel.

Really? I'm surprised to hear you say that.

Well, of course, I don't support terrorism,

but a caliphate - is that such a bad idea?

This is strong stuff, Dave!

What would you say to anyone thinking of supporting you?

My friends, we cannot let that man

inflict his security threatening, terrorist sympathising,

Britain-hating ideology on this country we love.

In July, one reckless dentist made everyone in the world say "ahhhh".

Forget sticking a drill into a canine,

the media revealed dentist Walter Palmer had flown to Africa

and stuck an arrow in a FELINE.

Didn't even give him an "I was a brave lion today" sticker. No.

Just bloody deaded the thing.

And it wasn't just any old lion, any old lion, any-any-any old lion.

No. He'd killed CECIL the lion.

Cecil had appeared in photographs and adverts,

attended the opening of literally hundreds of gazelles.

He'd released a sizzling sex tape and now he was dead.

The outcry was immediate and vocal.

It's like going out porpoise fishing

and getting Flipper. You're whacking Flipper!

-CHANTING:

-Shut him down! Shut him down!

He's despicable. He's a killer, he's a murderer.

The outrage grew across all media

and folk soon found out where Walter Palmer lived,

partly cos the details were leaked online,

but mainly cos he had the words "lion killer" painted on his garage.

I mean that's just adding insult to injury.

Worse still, the coverage made clear

Walter Palmer had previous for beast murder.

Back then no-one cared about the other animals

he'd killed because they didn't have names.

Or at least I don't think they did.

Maybe he shot their names off too, the bastard.

Anyway, while the outrage grew, the butcher himself was "lion low",

hahaha, while emotions were still "roar"! Heehee!

Dead lion jokes.

As the news revealed, tributes to Cecil

eventually reached Lady Di proportions

as landmarks were draped in his dead mane.

Earlier this month, Cecil's face was projected

onto New York's Empire State Building

and, for a moment, even in this concrete jungle,

he was still king.

Eventually, everyone moved on. Cecil stayed dead,

and Walter Palmer calmly went back to his day job,

drilling holes in the faces of blameless children.

Sorry, what do you want? A just world?

You're BLEEP dreaming.

There was this far away times man called Ted Heath, who's dead now,

but is still alive in all the footage of him

and he was either this sort of famous Prime Minister

who reformed local government and took Britain into the EU

or one of the most horrific monsters our country has ever seen.

And it wasn't clear which one he was. I think there were twins.

One was called Ted Heath and the other was Edward Heath.

I mean, they kept talking about both of them on the news.

-Former Prime Minister Sir Edward Heath.

-Ted Heath.

-Edward Heath.

-Ted Heath.

-Edward Heath.

-Sir Ted Heath.

-Sir Edward Heath.

They were the first twins to ever be Prime Minister. Prime Ministers.

Primes Ministers... I don't know what the right term is.

The thing is, because he looks the same as himself

in all the pictures, when you watch the footage,

you can't tell which of the Heath twins he is -

the good one or the evil one, if there was an evil one.

Or a good one.

It's totally confusing and that's probably

how he got away with it for so long, if he did get away with it.

Or the other one did. Or didn't.

There was another dead politician called Little Brittan

and he'd been accused of terrible things, too,

and again no-one knew if he'd done these things or not,

but there's this detective called Tom Watson,

who just wouldn't drop the case.

I think he works for the Labour Party branch of the police.

People got cross with him and called him a witch hunter,

but they'll shut up pretty quickly

the day he finally does catch a real witch.

Entertainment!

And ITV introduce a bewildered, blameless nation to Flockstars,

a celebrity sheepdog trial, which was only slightly less harrowing

than the year's other celebrity trials.

It was Strictly Come Dogging basically.

In fact, just like Strictly, when I look at the pairings,

I'm never quite sure which one's the famous one.

And I can't help wondering if they're going to end up doing it.

Bess and Tony Blackburn.

I like the cuddles. Mwah!

Time...to release the sheep!

Here they come - it's the Hebrideans.

Oh, God, talk about lowering the "baaa"!

Away, away!

Flockstars was just the latest in a string of doomed attempts

at aping the cosy patriotic success of the Great British Bake Off

by pummelling something quintessentially British

into a sort of format shape.

It can be filed alongside The Great British Sewing Bee,

The Big Allotment Challenge and that pottery thing.

Surely there's hardly any British bullshit left?

What's next, the Great British Pavement? Strictly Pub Menu?

Viral Racist Bus Rant of the Year?

Music contests too have been looking increasingly desperate.

For instance, to mark the 100 years he might've lived to

had he not died 17 years previously, the BBC wanted to salute

the genius of charismatic croonsmith Frank Sinatra,

seen here showcasing his seductive voice

and exuberant wanking technique.

# Luck be a lady tonight... #

Eurgh! Anyway, they marked the anniversary by paying tribute

to Ol' Blue Eyes in the classiest way possible,

with a ropey talent show called Frank Sinatra: Our Way,

hosted by Pointless star Alexander Armstrong

and pointless star Rochelle Humes.

-This is Frank Sinatra...

-BOTH:

-Our Way.

# We're closer than pages that stick in a book

# We're closer than ripples that flow in a brook... #

Bit of a strange way to honour Frank Sinatra, really,

by encouraging almost anyone to take to the stage

and dismantle his musical legacy.

Sort of like 'paying tribute' to Sir Christopher Wren

by making a monkey assemble some flat pack furniture.

You do it really, really well, but I can't remember Frank

when you're doing it. That's the only problem, unfortunately.

I think that's a kind of good thing

cos we are making it so much our own way

that you almost forget anyone else sang it.

Yeah, sod Sinatra, airbrush him from history. Frank who?

Glitzy establishment crooner-spawning-plant

the X Factor was also looking wobbly this year,

as it responded to dwindling ratings by upping its cruelty content,

leading to unedifying scenes of contestants begging live on air.

I will prove to you, I will change your mind.

I am not forgettable, I'm unforgettable, I promise you.

Still, if X Factor needs a new gimmick for next year,

maybe it could look to Japan

and its new grotesque adult talent contest Sing What Happens,

in which contestants have to stay in tune while being masturbated.

It's not so much a game show, more a metaphor for everything.

HE SINGS IN JAPANESE

In September, Prime Minister David Cameron

was accused of inserting his penis into the mouth of a dead pig.

HE COUGHS

Can I have a glass of water, please?

Yes, the Daily Mail printed extracts

from a biography of David Cameron alleging

that, while a student, he'd taken part

in a bizarre initiation ceremony,

during which he'd inserted his penis into the mouth of a dead pig,

a statement I STILL can't believe I'm reading aloud on BBC Television.

Seriously, this is like dreaming while awake.

For a while, the trad TV news

couldn't quite bring itself to discuss

the uh, ins and outs of the pig face allegations,

preferring to mince words.

The unauthorised biography includes allegations

about Mr Cameron's student days - that he smoked cannabis

and took part in a bizarre initiation ceremony.

There is a quite extraordinary account

of David Cameron's sort of hi-jinks at university.

A little bit more than hi-jinks, it has to be said.

We actually can't say some of the other things

he's accused of doing on TV.

We're going to have to leave it at that.

But in the alternative dimension of social media,

it was Christmas Day in 3D,

with pig joke piled upon pig joke like so much violated sausagemeat.

It didn't take long for the dam to burst

and the allegation soon defiled

otherwise straitlaced morning debate shows.

You've also got this issue of the Prime Minister

putting his cock in a dead pig's mouth.

OK, Dan, do you know what, mate? One - it's an allegation.

Two - your choice of language in referring to that

far goes beyond what is permitted at this time of the day

and, on that point, really,

you've forfeited any right to speak on this show so bye-bye.

What a waste of a call! Let's try another.

We've got Lewis on line two.

Eventually the nationwide chortling reached such a peak,

it was reported workplace productivity was suffering.

But, amidst the hilarity, some were wondering whether maybe -

just maybe - the allegations weren't entirely reliable.

For one thing, Cameron was denying it and, for another,

the book had been co-authored by Tory donor Lord Ashcroft,

who, by his own admission, had an axe to grind with Cameron

and it all boiled down to one rumour

from one anonymous source. Could've been anyone.

Could've been Keith Lemon.

It was a bit like a dirty protest and people like me, who wanted it

to be true just because it was so irresistibly funny,

were the ones daubing someone else's shit

up the cell walls of the collective unconscious.

And it was working.

It even amused Loose Women.

"The funniest thing is that the British public see the possibility

"as entirely plausible, although it has put me off sausage for life."

LAUGHTER

The book's co-author, and chronic smirker, Isabel Oakeshott,

was all over the media, defending the noble tradition

of spreading uncorroborated rumours

from a single potentially unreliable source.

Where's the evidence for the allegations

that you make in the book,

especially the ones about the dead pig?

Look, this is just a few paragraphs in the middle of a book

which is some 200,000 words long.

Yeah, come on, guys there's only a hint of pig BLEEP in it.

Do you think the stuff about the pig is true?

We're not there to write a hagiography.

There are some difficult things in there

and there are also plenty

of extremely complimentary flattering things

about the Prime Minister in there as well.

Oh, what kind of compliments? Let me guess,

He was the best dead pig's head BLEEP the world has ever seen.

To be honest, the whole thing

left me particularly feeling a bit weirded out.

You see, a few years ago, I wrote a drama for Channel 4

in which a fictional Prime Minister

was blackmailed into having sex with a pig.

And lots of things in that show played out

much the same as they were now.

There were people in newsrooms bemoaning the fact

they couldn't run the story...

If we mention bestiality pre-watershed,

-Ofcom would be seriously pissed off.

-Fuck Ofcom!

There were people making wisecracks on Twitter,

even using some of the same hashtags.

The vindictive stunt impacted cruelly on the people at the centre...

-Nothing is going to happen.

-It's already happening in their heads!

And the whole thing played out as a kind of national sport,

bringing the nation to a standstill.

At the end of Black Mirror, the PM's reputation survives intact.

And, a few months on, David Cameron

doesn't seem to have suffered too much from his piggy scrape,

although the mental image is still too powerful

and amusing for some of his opponents to drop.

The irony is the collective thunderchuckle overshadowed somewhat

more pointed allegations in the book which the Prime Minister also denied.

I think it's important that this allegation that he knew more

about Lord Ashcroft's non-dom status than he had previously said he did,

that that's not lost in more lurid

and humorous allegations that many people are talking about.

Good point, Nicola. Let's hope no-one lets that happen.

The Prime Minister's attitude to Scotland

betrays the worst characteristics of his government -

arrogant, patrician, out of touch.

Pig headed, some might say.

LAUGHTER

Haha, he BLEEP a pig! Hahahaha! PIG OINKS

He BLEEP a pig.

Hahahaha! Or he didn't.

Or he did! Hahahaha! Or he didn't.

Or he did! Hahahahaha! Or he didn't. Or he did!

Usually, people from Europe go off somewhere hot on holiday,

but this year, loads of people from somewhere hot

tried to come over here.

You've got a swarm of people coming across the Mediterranean,

seeking a better life.

Normally, I think, "Fair enough," but when I read the papers,

you could tell from the language they used

that these weren't quite normal people.

I mean, they look normal on the telly,

but when you read about them,

you realised they must have had insect DNA or something

cos it sounded like they were a sort of infestation swarming in.

They couldn't have been real humans because people were writing things

about them that would be utterly unforgivable if they were.

The People said they were migrants coming here in droves,

which is interesting cos I've never heard of a country

called Migratia and I don't know what a drove is.

The migrants couldn't hack it back home.

Just cos they're caught in a crossfire

between a bloodthirsty extremist death cult

and a desperate, amoral military regime,

both of which who'll stop at nothing

to kill anything in their way, but we've all got problems.

I mean, I don't always like where I live,

but you don't hear me moaning about it and hopping on a drove.

The coverage made it crystal clear they were headed for Europe

cos they wanted a better way of life with benefits

and a health service

and houses that weren't all on fire or made of rubble.

While they were waiting for the free house and money,

the migrant swarms would build a sort of nest called a camp.

The BBC did a special Songs of Praise from one of the nests

and the papers weren't happy and nor was I.

Songs of Praise is meant to be a music show

so why is it suddenly getting all preachy about things?

Anyway, just as I was really getting into hating the migrants,

there was a massive twist that I hadn't seen coming.

When the police arrived here this morning,

they found several drowning victims, among them a toddler,

a child of perhaps two years of age.

This boat sank and there was a photo of a little boy

lying dead on the beach

and he looked just like a real human cos he was.

And then I thought, "Wait a minute, what if they're ALL real humans?"

And then I thought, "Oh, my God, that'd be awful!"

I mean, if that was true,

this whole thing would be an unprecedented crisis.

And, to their credit, after that photo,

the papers did some investigating and found out the migrants

WERE real people so their coverage totally changed.

They realised they got it wrong so they started shouting

at David Cameron to do something about it, to give them a home.

Today, I can announce that we will do more,

providing resettlement for thousands more Syrian refugees.

I feel sorry for him

cos he's only just found out they were humans, too.

Everyone was caught on the hop here.

The news had all this footage of them

all desperately squeezing onto trains

and marching on foot in huge snaking columns,

but now it looks sort of different - less swarmy and threatening

and more harrowing and urgent and sad.

And the clever thing was it was the same sort of pictures

you'd seen earlier, but now you knew the twist about them being humans,

it seemed totally different. It was like the white and gold dress.

Once it's flipped to blue and black in your head, that's it,

you can't see it any other way forever.

Well, until Paris happened,

then they went back to being a swarm of bastards and criminals again.

2015 was of course the year fictional construct

Marty McFly arrived in futuristic Hill Valley in the light-hearted

blockbuster Back to the Future 2, so naturally people were keen

to compare how the movie's vision of today had fared with the reality.

And the truth is our present day reality is even more sophisticated.

I mean, in the made-up 2015, people used hoverboards to zip around on,

whereas today, arseholes have actually evolved wheels.

In Back to the Future they had robots in service stations,

whereas today we've already got robots in our homes,

such as Pepper, the social companionship robot

who went on sale this year in Japan

promoted by this eerie, haunting video.

Surely no-one can really bear sharing their home

with an emotionally void blank-faced robot

that's chained to an iPad all day long.

At least that's what my wife keeps telling me via text.

But even that wasn't the creepiest technology story of the year.

# I'm looking for someone other than my wife

# Other than my wife

# Ashley Madison's right

# I'm looking for someone other than my wife

# Other than my wife

# Ashley Madison's right

# I'm looking for someone other than my wife... #

Yes, this hideous commercial was advertising online cheat-mode enabler

Ashley Madison, which promised secret affairs for wannabe shagabouts.

The site did look really safe, as though you could trust it

with your most sensitive secrets.

I mean, it had a photo of a woman going "shhh" on the front

AND a graphic of a padlock

so it was hard to see what could possibly go wrong.

Computer hackers have stolen millions of items of customer data

from an online adultery website called Ashley Madison.

The hackers put the names of everyone who'd been on there

on the dark web, which is a sort of internet

you look at with the lights off.

No-one knows where the next privacy breach is going to come from.

But we know it's coming. They can hack anything now.

Phones, laptops, tablets, webcams.

I heard they can even hack into mirrors, like bathroom mirrors -

so everyone in Russia can watch you going for a shit.

If you've got a mirror in front of your toilet, like I have,

for personal reasons.

It's almost hard to remember

that, a few years ago, the world was terrified of Al Qaeda.

Isis make Al Qaeda look like Crowded House.

Isis began as something many in the West

psychologically portioned off as happening somewhere "over there",

atrocities in Awfuladesh.

But throughout the year, the threat has crept closer and closer to home.

Tourists slain on their sun loungers. Aeroplanes blown from the sky.

It seemed nowhere was safe.

A major breaking story in Paris tonight -

reports of explosions and shootings.

It's a shocking and confusing picture.

-EXPLOSION

-129 people were murdered in Paris

and hundreds more injured by seven Islamic State terrorists.

As horrifying news coverage played out across screens of every size

and shape, a mood of fear and paranoia took hold.

-Now, this place here...

-Hey, there's shit happening.

There's something going on here, people are running.

-Keep outside.

-OK. People are running away.

There was a palpable sense of events spiralling out of control.

Anyway, everyone agrees this is all far too scary to ignore -

the question is what to do about it.

And some think that means confronting the issue at its source - Syria.

But how DO you solve a problem like Syri-ah?

Syria's a hellish tangle involving a brutal regime,

rival rebel factions, extremists and vested international interests.

It's a civil war, a proxy war, an ideological conflict

AND a monumental humanitarian disaster all at the same time.

Little wonder some want to treat it like a malfunctioning old TV -

give it a bang and hope it sorts itself out.

Sure enough the Government was soon fielding a vote

on whether we should bomb Syria or not.

David Cameron informed an anxious nation

that this was the Right Thing To Do.

So it's in the national interest, it's the right thing to do.

But then he says everything he wants to do is the right thing to do.

It hasn't been easy, I know, for many people in Britain,

but it's, I think, been the right thing to do.

I think that's the right thing to do. The right thing to do.

This is the right thing to do. It's the right thing to do.

This is the right thing to do. It's the right thing to do.

I will do the right thing. I did last time, I would again.

It was the right thing to do.

Labour leader and cycling proficiency badge holder Jeremy Corbyn

was in a tricky spot.

As a pacifist, he hates war,

but he couldn't vote against it without causing one in his own party.

In the event, MPs voted to bomb Syria and suddenly we were at war,

which we already were up the road in Iraq.

Basically, they voted for more war.

These are the planes the RAF have been flying in attacks

over Iraq and are ready for use in Syria.

As the news channels turned into excited commercials

for all the missiles and military hardware we'd soon be using,

Labour careered into a civil war with itself.

Well, here, the recriminations in the Labour Party

from last night's Syria vote

are still ricocheting around Westminster and beyond.

As you could see from the coverage, the infighting's become so bitter,

even Assad looks at the Labour Party

and goes, "Fffff, don't fancy getting involved in that!"

Bombing is one response to terror.

Scapegoating is another.

For years, many have treated the entire Muslim faith

as synonymous with extremist atrocities carried out in its name.

There are constant calls for Muslims to denounce terror,

which they do daily,

but the media finds that a bit too boring to publicise.

I guess if they were denouncing it

while firing an AK-47 into the sky, the news might pay attention.

Atrocities like Paris fuel anti-Muslim sentiment still further.

OF COURSE terrorists don't represent all Muslims,

any more than Gregg Wallace represents all mammals.

This shit is everyone's problem.

And most people instinctively know that.

They even shout it at terrorist suspects.

You ain't no Muslim, bruv!

"You ain't no Muslim, bruv" said it all much better

than I ever could and thank you

because that'll be applauded around the country.

Wow, something somebody else did was the right thing to do!

In the current atmosphere,

there's no shortage of people expressing an opposite sentiment.

The plan?

Number one - get a gun.

Oh, God, not you again! Sorry about this.

I was hoping to keep things festive

for the last few minutes of the show, but this is what happened.

Buy one legally, learn how to shoot it and be primed to use it.

Do you need to buy guns in America? They're probably just lying around.

Donald Trump is running for President of America

in the President of America contest.

Americans like Trump because he's got loads of money,

which is sort of their version of being clever,

and he's built all these giant buildings

and he's written his name on them so no-one else can steal them.

He's all over the news, like the news can't stop

filling their screens with him, even though he looks sort of weird.

He looks like a sort of guinea pig

staring at you through the porthole in a washing machine.

There's this amazing stuff on his head.

It's not hair, it's like a sort of furry gas.

It's like he was born with a squirrel's tail

and he's brushed it over his head to pass among humans.

As well as looking like a sort of biological car crash,

he's got this gimmick.

He says horrible things about people, totally slags them off.

I never attacked him on his look and, believe me,

there's plenty of subject matter right there, that I can tell you.

He slagged off John McClane, who was a Vietnam War hero.

He's a war hero cos he was captured.

I like people that weren't captured, OK, I hate to tell you.

He slagged off loads of women.

You call women you don't like "fat pigs", "dogs",

"slobs" and "disgusting animals".

-Your Twitter account...

-Only Rosie O'Donnell.

He said horrible things about Mexicans.

They're bringing drugs, they're bringing crime,

they're rapists and some, I assume, are good people.

He took the piss out of a reporter with a disability.

You've got to see this guy.

"Ohhh, I don't know what I said. I don't remember!"

It's like if Frankie Boyle decided to use his powers for evil.

One of his enemies is all Mexicans, who he wants to build a wall around.

He says Mexico's the new China, which it isn't.

Tupperware is the new China, he hasn't thought that through.

Then there was this mass shooting in California

like there is every day in America,

but this wasn't one of the normal mass shootings

that a maniac does for no reason.

This one was carried out by two maniacs for some ideological reason.

I mean, it must be scary to think that terrorists

have got so good at infiltrating America, it's almost impossible

to tell them apart from your normal unhinged maniacs.

I mean, you could be calmly minding your own business

in the middle of an everyday mass shooting

and suddenly realise it's a terror attack.

Anyway, then Donald Trump said he would ban all Muslims

from entering the country and suddenly,

even though he'd been saying all these Hitlery things for a while,

that was just TOO Hitlery for everyone.

Donald J Trump is calling for a total and complete shutdown

of Muslims entering the United States

until our country's representatives

can figure out what the hell is going on.

CHEERING

Basically, everyone said he was horrible.

They started calling him a fascist, that he was starting to look

and sound like a racist dictator.

Even Dick Cheney went on the news and said it was wrong

and he's the bloke who invented filling Muslims with water

till they say they're terrorists just to make it stop.

# Trump up the jam, Trump up the jam The Trumpty dance... #

Super Trump!

A lot of pundits predicted that support for him

would fizzle out over the summer. That doesn't seem to be happening.

It's exciting watching footage of his rallies, thinking,

"Ooh, this'll be in a documentary in about 20 years' time

"with ominous music on it and here's me watching it live!"

He says all these things that aren't true

and loads of his followers don't trust the media

so they believe whatever he says

so he can basically create his own mental reality

and have thousands of people blindly agree with him.

Actually, saying it out loud makes him sound sort of terrifying,

but luckily he's also got silly hair you can laugh at.

I mean, there's no way Hitler would have risen to power

if he had some weird physical thing that made him look silly,

you know, like a stupid haircut or a little moust...

Oh, fucking hell!

All the controversy and news on terrorism over the past month

seems to have given Trump a boost.

Back in late October, there were signs he had started to fade.

Since then, he's jumped 13 points

in that same poll...

Oh, God, you know, this is making me think there's no hope.

I mean you've got this kind of lunacy.

-Get a gun.

-You've got maniacs slaughtering anyone in sight.

You've got fascistic demagogues capitalising on the whole thing.

No wonder that bloke's hiding out on the moon in that poxy,

stupid John Lewis advert.

It looks like the safest place to be right now,

cos down here it's all anger and fear and carnage

and despair and I just... I just wish there was something

to take my mind off it and...

Oh, look, it's Dave's epic strut!

Dave's epic strut, everyone!

Hahahah! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!

LAUGH!

Hahahahahahahahaha!

Oh, er, well that's all we've got time for.

I'll see you at some point next year.

Till then, go away.