Here are an assortment of personal goat-getters...
Griff Rhys-JonesWas he ever edgey? It's increasingly hard to say 'yes'. Not that 'edginess' is somehow to be revered and celebrated, it's just that as a comedy flag-bearer of the 80's, you don't really expect to see him turn into a living embodiment of a comfy sweater with the most flagrantly awful affected voice in the history of flagrantly affected voices. One hint of his sweater visage or, far worse, his mangled voiceover voice (which he's clearly in love with and I curl inwards with hatred of), and I'm off.
The bint now on the 'One Show', and the bint that used to be on it Autocue tarts, both of them, without an ounce of real personality between them. Their purpose is solely to induce vague groinal stirrings in middle aged, middle-class men. Hateful, although more hateful for the conniving of the BBC execs that put them there than for their own failings.
Fiona BruceWoo! Posh totty! And she so OBVIOUSLY cares! Just get a load of her on 'Crimewatch', listen to those calculated intonations of voice, marvel at the studied body language of actorly concern. Hateful. A slimy fake.
Kirsty WarkMercifully much less omnipresent on the box than she once was, but I still have nightmares about her. Imagine being married to that! That hectoring scottishness.....ugh.
Billy ConnollyA man celebrated for, er, what, precisely? He swears, they laugh. He swears some more, they laugh some more. He pauses, he laughs at what he's about to say next (because, after all, he's
BILLY CONNOLLY!), he plays that pregnant pause shtick for every penny then delves deep into a comedy overdraft that he has no ability to ever pay back. The pause ends, the tortuously unfunny dialogue rambles on for way way too long, punctuated by more swearing. I think that the audience laugh because they imagine he's on some daring comedy precipice, but it's all a hideous con. If they'd only look down, they'd see that he's not flying by the seat of his pants, he's flying Business Class, and laughing all the way to the bank with your money.
Frankie Boyle, Jimmy CarrThey're different, but united by terrifying unfunniness. Boyle is tasteless and sneering, Carr is Mr Look At Me wearing the Emperor's New Clothes. "I can be funny!" "I can be shocking!" "look! Over here! Look at ME!!"
The trouble is, when you do, you are confronted by the World's Smarmiest Visage spouting self-satisfied drivel-comedy. I want to punch him sooo much. In fact, if I ever did have an opportunity to punch him, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to stop myself. And then I'd punch him a bit more...
Which brings me inexorably on to....
Phill Jupitus The World's Least Funny Man Purporting to be a Funny Man, and as if this accolade wasn't enough, he's also the World's Least Interesting and Least Capable Radio DJ.
Please somebody tell me how this astoundingly talentless nerk has oozed into our public consciousness and remained there?
I'm genuinely mystified. He's from Essex, too. That saddens me deeply.
The Boring Smug Gits Club (aka Match of the Day) My fists are twitching again....
For heaven's sake, BBC, shake this smeggy-stink format up and retire ALL of them! Hansen, Lineker, Shearer and most especially Lawrenson have long since fallen out of love with the game, probably out of resentment at being professionals at the wrong time, and boy! does it show!
Which leads me (inexorably

) on to that other BBC sacred cow long overdue for ritual slaughter and concomitant dancing in the streets and joyous late night revelry...
Top GearI squirm with embarrassment that I share the same chromosomes as Clarkson. Is he sending himself up? Is he? He may have been, once, but long ago he started to believe that he had something, that his point of view was valid. The more negative post he got, the more entrenched he became, to the point where he is now a truly grotesque caricature of himself, a living gargoyle.
Hammond is the kid in the year below Clarkson, and will curry favour from him to avoid other kids in his form from beating him up.
May, well, er, I quite like him, actually...