Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Pyianno, May 12, 2012.
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Giles Coren has form on this front. He once slagged off a sub fr daring to tamper with his copy. He's a fairly immense shit, to be honest, which is probably why he wrote an arsewipe book about Anger Management.
Q: Why did he get a job in journalism?
A: Cos of his dad, thicko.
Q: Why did Victoria Coren get a job in journalism?
A: Cos of her dad. I won't tell you again.
And why did daddy get a job in journalism......? Fuck knows.
I'd never heard of him before but his contempt for the general public has won me over.
By all accounts he was a huge shit as well. I remember the producer of that Cabbages and Kings effort telling me that even though the points awarded for answers were not really important to the game, Alan Coren would throw a wobbler and stop the recording if he didn't 'win'.
So perhaps young Giles has inherited his Shitness from his dad as well as his job.
Alan Coren gravitated to be editor of 'Punch' magazine, which by the time he took the chair had about much punch as Stephen Hawking after missing medication, by writing third-rate shite. Seems to be a family tradition.
She was at uni at the same time as me. A massive hipster, her column was OK though. She interned at VICE so is probably a stuck-up arsehole. She's tasty though, smashable. Yet another addition to the journo "community" of mates all slapping each other on the back and bitching.
Seems Coren is Westminster School then Keble College, Oxford. By all accounts, the best of British.
The thing about crap columnists is that if one slags the other off, it provides a column in return. It's self perpetuating and the 'wounded' parties can trouser a large cheque for doing very little work.
He earns most of his money from writing about food, or poncing about in silly costumes on telly food programmes, usually with that unfunny, Lesbo comedienne.
Becoming a food critic is a bit of a come down in terms of ego. I know of another Observer 'foodie' who has never got over his own down-grading, swapping glam foreign assignments for a table in Soho.
Coren probably thought he'd be editor of The Times by now, particularly with the fabulous advantage his father delivered him. But he's not. He's a washout. And instead of striding the battlements in Sandystan, he's staring at a plate in The Ivy, wondering why we don't appreciate his huge talents, when it comes to complaining about the service.
Fuck him (as he would say).
She's the journo? Now I'm confused. Two people bitch on twatter, one gives a DS reply, I'll go with him.
Giles Coren is a horrendous little turd. He once wrote a restaurant review slating a particularly good young chef for daring to make "the political statement" of having creme Palestine on his menu. His response when it was pointed out that this particluar recipe for Jerusalem artichoke soup had been knocking about for around 150 years and perhaps he should learn a bit about food before presuming to criticise it was less than contrite.
I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire, unless I was pretty sure that my urine had a high enough alcohol content to be flammable.
edited to add: I'd smash his sister though
Agreed he's a bit of a tube.
His sister, for me at least, has always swung between someone I'd love to smash to someone I'd like to smash in. Cute to a point, sharp of mind and wit, yes, but also full of self glow.
However now she's admitted that she hooked up with David Mitchell ( who, frankly, is a living argument for euthanasia), it's clear she has low enough standards for me to entertain thoughts of the former scenario.
I used to enjoy reading Coren's food reviews in the Times, but only because they were the equivalent of a meltdown in ink form. Nothing ever satisfied him and he was always cobbing. How his misses puts up with the cunt is a mystery.
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