Please Do Not Buy 'Jamie - The Magazine.' Please.
Fat-tongued, flan-handling cookery gimp Jamie Oliver has today conjured up yet another reason to be globally loathed by launching his own magazine, which is being pedalled as the equivalent of "being invited round to Jamie's house." Super – you haven’t got a problem with us bringing a bucket of petrol and some cheap fireworks along as well have you mate?
It’s imaginatively titled ‘Jamie Magazine’ - yes it even has the word ‘Magazine’ on the cover in case you mistakenly think you’re holding a sodding birthday card, and tucked away among issue one’s endless pages of drippy, self-regarding cack include a column by his glassy-eyed wife along with a feature on Jamie’s poker nights with his fellow bell-end Dexter Fletcher (where did we put that bucket of petrol again?)
Thankfully, although his magazine makes every single one of us a little bit more dead in our hearts, Oliver has gone to the trouble of printing his thoughts and feelings and photos on matt paper from sustainable managed forests, which makes it unique among UK food titles. Shame the little irritant couldn’t have printed it on rice paper – then we could at least have scoffed it after ploughing through its contents before exclaiming, “Is that it? Is that fucking it?”
We scratched our heads until they bled wondering who would be the next celeb deranged enough to launch a similar vanity magazine – the best we could come up with was this…