This evening I've exchanged the cosy fluorescence of The Neon Sapphire for a seat at the bar of the 5-star Prima Hotel near London Heathrow Airport. I've arranged a celebrity interview to share exclusively with you, my generous readers, so don't go back to browsing memes on Twitter just yet. Like millions of others, you're probably a fan of my subject.
He's hot off a private jet from the States. His agent has already prepped me with a list of taboo subjects that will result in an instant walk-out if breached, and I'm contractually obliged to type up this conversation for blog publication as soon as possible so that my subject can maintain his claim of having "One finger on the pulse of the zeitgeist, and another one up your bum!"
Yes, my friends, it's Impreza Bukkake.
IB: Ooh! Insightful delightful, Crutchless!
MC: It's Crutchfield, thanks.
IB: Totes and whatevs, Scribbles!
MC: Mr Bukkake, it's been several years since the so-called "Celebrity Sabbath Massacre" in Dorset: what's life been like for you since then?
IB: Oh my Lazarus god! What you askin', mother-hubbard? You mean you ain't been livin' in the Twit-sphere to keep track o' my nut-crackin' ass? Pout! I got more Tweet than a budgie on speed! Aha! The Prez has been all over, on under, left round, out down and right up it! Shimmer!
MC: I'm glad to hear that. I'm sorry I missed your Twitter posts. I have to admit that I thought your presence on social media might have dwindled somewhat following negative press about the explosion at your Temple Studio celebration.
IB: Ouch, Crutch Face! Ouch! You is off the schnizzle! Ain't nothin' dwindlin' about this swollen slab of sexy sleb! Mint! Like, even goat-herders in Mongolistan know that sales of Impreza Bukkake's third album just went off the scale! Breaking the 300,000-downloads threshold left me stunned and paralysed – and that's what this artist calls going plati-numb! Champagne pop!
Then there's my Celebrity Juice appearances: five times now, so when Keith Lemon finally kicks that talentless munter Boobawilly off the show, he's promised to make me Team Captain. Grin! That bite o' the big time cost me only two handy jobs, which I planned to give that ginger prick anyway – and to think it cost Gino Di Scampi a colon-bashin just to get the 'And' credit– grazie! What the fuckles will it be like havin' Bukkake and Lemon top-billin' on the same stage?! Oh my extropervertin' god! Aha!
And don't forget my consultancy for the Nigel Trump campaign. I just got back from the U.K. of A, and O.M. republican G, you won't believe the pile o' crispy dollar that freaky guy pays a dude to attend his Kicking-Black-Guys-Out-The-White-House party! Hooo-eeee! And this Prez would've even done it for, like, no pence, cuz billionaires like him totally care about the little guy in the street. No, not Midget Mike on Harley Street! If that faker can afford George trainers, he can stop begging and get on proper benefits! Lazy prick! No, Trump cares about everyday guys (like what I ain't anymore since I bought Enya's old place in the Cotswolds): people like you, and the people what reads you, cuz you all K to the N to the OW that we need to make them Frenchicans build a wall, like, right across the Texan Channel, stoppin' all them Dorito-crunchin' bean-farters and starvin' brown people from sad countries comin' over here causin' global warmin', buyin' up all our Old El Paso Vajita kits, and takin' honest jobs off the Pakis and Polish guys what was here first! It's time for the average white guy to have some say in the world for a change! Can I get an Amen?! Back at ya, bitches!
MC: Thank you. But since you're a man who rose to fame and wealth by being someone most people could relate to, thanks to your own working class roots and Saturday night, reality-TV appeal, might it be fair to suggest that your opinions seem surprisingly right wing?
IB: Did you just accuse me of working, Cuntfield? Well let me correct you, sausage: there ain't no class in that! N.O!
MC: Apologies. But still, are you not afraid that talking this way might be construed as a knee-jerk fear or dislike of foreigners?
IB: O.M. xenophobic G! You asking that of moi?
MC: Well, yes.
IB: Then you'd better ask all the millions of other people what voted for Trumpy Brexit, Mr Questions, cuz I is just one voter, and I don't even vote, cuz, like, one vote don't make no difference, and Yours Awesomely gets paid for showing up. He don't turn out for free, capiche?
MC: Loud and clear. On another topic, I hear that “Ooh, I know I Shouldn't..." The Authorised Biography of Impreza Bukkake by Adrian Morgan was remaindered six months after publication due to poor sales. How did that make you feel?
IB: O.M. pulpy G! If remaindered means "Taken off the shelves cuz Waterstones couldn't handle the crowds", or "Bukkake fans is too busy doin' brainy shit to be fuckin' readin'", then yeah, Paxman, it was. Issue, much?
MC: Media speculation suggested that your very public disagreement with the journalist known only as Girl Mercury might have hurt book sales.
IB: Oh, retch, Crutchy, retch! The can of punch-in-the-pussy I opened on that inter-fuckin-lectual didn't have no effect on Joe Pubic except to make him go out and buy my records and start a government petition to make me Head Judge on X-Factor's Got Talent! I gots the chops for that. I look at Honey G and see the same passion and potential I saw in the mirror when I was a fuckin' no-body, like her, and I needs to be biggin' that shit up, uh-yeh! No, you want issues? Then quote this: I is gunna be the poison-tipped, atomic-warhead revenge-meister against the cunt what started #ImprezaBukkakeLooksLikeRylanClark! Sulk! That mincin' cockless twat copied me, motherfuckers, and there's a © 2014 to prove it, so you can all suck my niblets! And another righteous rumble you can be headlinin' is your favourite Prez knocking the hot pants off Little Mix in The Great British Rake Off last month! Choice! Them bitches got no business toppin' music charts when they can't even clear leaves off a lawn – own it!
O.M. Funky G! by Impreza Bukkake is available on Reality Arena Records now.
“Ooh, I know I Shouldn't..." The Authorised Biography of Impreza Bukkake by Adrian Morgan is featured in
The Last Best Gift: Eye Witnesses to The Celebrity Sabbath Massacre by Mark Crutchfield, available for download at
© Mark Crutchfield
