Ironic Appreciation Galleria

Cheer yourself up by looking at things you know you're better than, like Bon Jovi. Or a twig.

Yesterday's Ironic Pictures

• Yes, the accursed Franklin Mint are up to their old tricks again. However you feel about the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, why not trivialise the whole issue by purchasing an almost unbelievably ill-fabricated doll vaguely resembling a caricature of the squashed Princess? Examine this picture closely.

  

  Many thanks to Rod Duggan for bringing the lacklustre Mintsters to our attention once more.

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  Beloved software benefactor William H. Gates receives a token of appreciation from thousands of overjoyed Windows users. Many thanks to Ian for this moving picture.
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  Diana, former Princess of Wales, shortly before her ill-advised punch-up with a concrete column in a Paris underpass.

  Look upon her royal face. Remember that no matter how much of a slapper she was in real life, now that she's dead we must all pretend we always liked her. People who used to slag her off something chronic are now forced to pretend they always thought there was something a little bit saintly about her ludicrous attention-grabbing media exploits. Vomit into their nostrils, is what I say.

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• Back from the dead, the picture they tried to suppress but failed, this ironic and totally genuine, unfaked photograph depicts our beloved Home Secretary, Jack Straw. Jack's ambiguous stance on cannabis decriminalisation may be explained by this picture from a close friend's private collection.

  

• This week's wheelbarrow of steaming irony is deposited on colour-supplement rip-off artists The Franklin Mint, responsible for such 'collectable' atrocities as the Star Trek 3-D chessboard, an endless stream of 'limited edition', 'rare' coins, and various china statuettes of urinating shepherdesses, and so on.

  Their latest crime against humanity is a 'spectacular three-dimensional tribute to the Beatles':

  

  Nice, eh? And guess what?

  

  Remarkable indeed. The remark that springs immediately to mind is 'Thirty quid for that piece of shit, you must be joking!'. I expect you're paying for the 'meticulously hand-painted detail'. From the look of the picture it's been hand-painted by a chimpanzee suffering from St. Vitus' Dance. Well worth it, I think not.

  Many thanks to Mark Whitby for inserting that piece of tosh into my in-basket.

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  Yes, the finger of irony this week points at 1970s falsetto idiots the Bee Gees. You may think the Bee Gee's timeless music makes up for their silly voices, rum clothes and overpowering lack of cool, but it doesn't. And remember - no really cool band can contain someone called Barry. Or Robin. Or Maurice.

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  You see The Monkees? They're your favourite band. They are.

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  Slightly unimpressive 80's singer-songwriter Howard Jones is now ironically fashionable, according to a leading style pundit (me). Why not go out and buy some of his albums? They shouldn't cost too much nowadays. Try Oxfam, or another 80's record shop.

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  Aaahh. Tony Blair's good. You didn't think I'd like him, but I do.

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  Nigel Evans, Conservative Member of Parliament for Ribblevalley and front-bench spokesman on constitutional affairs. I don't think I need elaborate.

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  The supremely ironic Toby Anstis. Is that what they call a 'shit-eating grin'? It ought to be, in my view.

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  The implausibly-named Pierce Brosnan.

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  A chap called Nigel Ballard who likes to pontificate knowingly about technology in the same way as cornish music critic Tony Parsons does about music, which makes him both ironic and a curmudgeon, but he does at least like The Sundays, so he can't be all bad. Can he? You decide from his home page

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  The Spice Girls say "Vote Fascist for another glorious decade of total law enforcement!"

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  A chap I know called Smeagle. What a gimp.

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  'Cherry Star Trek's Wesley Crusher. Nuff said.

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  Vote Neil Hamilton to uphold the traditional Tory values of honesty, integrity and openness. And brown envelopes full of cash. Oh what a giveaway.
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  Ha.

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  Even more ha. I sometimes wonder where Banarama are now. And then I realise I couldn't care less.

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  Look at William Hague's kindly smile and stern, fatherly eyes. Notice how your gaze is relentlessly distracted upward to his glinting slap-head.