Gary Rhodes' Skull

I'm sure he is a great chef and all that, but Gary Rhodes doesn't half get on my tits. All this 'And this one eats beautifully' camp finalising and that grindingly constant air of zen-like calm as he farts around his kitchen-cum-dental clinic. It's beyond reason.

I've always joked that I want to drink beer out of his skull. And then we found a cress planter shaped like Gary Rhodes' head in Bakewell (a weak stocking filler based on the idea that our Gazza, or Gazz as his rough mates down the pub calls him, has spiky hair. The skull, that is. Not Bakewell. Bakewell's worse than that).

Sadly, it was too small to drink beer out of, but an interesting try.

My mum once tried to get it for me after I added it to a Christmas list. She had every department in Harrods looking for it. Is it a book, a play, a film, a type of oven, a riding hat???

They had, finally to admit failure. Shame on you, Harrods! In the good old days they'd just have gorn aht an shot the bugger!

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