“And now ladies and gentlemen, we have 2 guests to talk about the Obama victory, Baroness Scotland and hip hop artist Dizzee Rascal”

The shudder that went down my spine was almost physically painful. I ran over to the TV, put on my glasses and raised the volume.

“God”, I prayed, “please let it be some politician who I have never heard of who just happened to have an unfortunate coincidental same name as the grime artist”.

But no, such was the luck that we had achieved a black president; there was no more to go round. Standing there in his skanky smile and uninhibited glory was, as Jeremy Paxman so kindly put it: “Mr Rascal”.

In the nanosecond that preceded him opened his mouth, I tried to assure myself that he would ‘Fix up and look sharp’

But alas, much to my embarrassment, the embarrassment of the Baroness, the grin of Jeremy and to the embarrassment of himself, Dizzee was doing his level best in a one man bid to secure the part as Bottom, an ignorant ignoramus ass in Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s night dream.

Where one man had a dream 48 years ago, I was having my own personal nightmare unfold in front of my very eyes as “Mr Rascal” struggled to command the basic form of primary grammar that would see Donnatella Versace secure a place as a 10 o’ clock newsreader.

Was the word ‘Street’ synonymous with ‘stupid’? I wondered, and from which cornerstone in London had they dragged this despicable waste of oxygen from, to represent the young UK black man and tell the nation:

“Wot am sayin, yeah, is mans won it cos he used hip-hop, init”

Did he confuse Jeremy Paxman with Clarkson? Why were they doing this to us?
Such is the disgust of what I endured that I cannot express any words to truly verbalise what I had been so hexed to see.

Embarassing clown on tv, and paxman let him off, he could easiy have pursued why Obama DISTANCED himself from rapper endorsements, or what %age of the voting public were the hip-hop demographic.

Or how by having a 52% vs. a 48% vote gives you a near double electoral vote makes any sense at all.

Dizzee, stay dumb with MTV.

And when asked: Do you consider yourself to be British?
He should have turned round and asked Jeremy the exact same question!

Too much to ask of an child like idiot.
He really needs to grow up.

“And now ladies and gentlemen, we have 2 guests to talk about the Obama victory, Baroness Scotland and hip hop artist Dizzee Rascal”

The shudder that went down my spine was almost physically painful. I ran over to the TV, put on my glasses and raised the volume.

“God”, I prayed, “please let it be some politician who I have never heard of who just happened to have an unfortunate coincidental same name as the grime artist”.

But no, such was the luck that we had achieved a black president; there was no more to go round. Standing there in his skanky smile and uninhibited glory was, as Jeremy Paxman so kindly put it: “Mr Rascal”.

In the nanosecond that preceded him opened his mouth, I tried to assure myself that he would ‘Fix up and look sharp’

But alas, much to my embarrassment, the embarrassment of the Baroness, the grin of Jeremy and to the embarrassment of himself, Dizzee was doing his level best in a one man bid to secure the part as Bottom, an ignorant ignoramus ass in Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s night dream.

Where one man had a dream 48 years ago, I was having my own personal nightmare unfold in front of my very eyes as “Mr Rascal” struggled to command the basic form of primary grammar that would see Donnatella Versace secure a place as a 10 o’ clock newsreader.

Was the word ‘Street’ synonymous with ‘stupid’? I wondered, and from which cornerstone in London had they dragged this despicable waste of oxygen from, to represent the young UK black man and tell the nation:

“Wot am sayin, yeah, is mans won it cos he used hip-hop, init”

Did he confuse Jeremy Paxman with Clarkson? Why were they doing this to us?
Such is the disgust of what I endured that I cannot express any words to truly verbalise what I had been so hexed to see.