<!--StartFragment-->Sorry it's taken me so long to comment on The Golden Clog Awards. Guess that's because I didn't fucking hear of them till now. After all, The Golden Clogs make the ESPYs look like the Oscars.

Let me explain, please, what The Golden Clogs are: They are awards dreamed up by nothing chef Tony Bourdain and -- wait a minute, this next one is making me laugh too hard to type -- Michael Ruhlman, the genius author who brought you such classics as "The Making of a Chef" and "The Soul of a Chef". More about those pieces of shit later.

This writer did an almost sufficient job at panning the Top Chef cookbook, called, fucking creatively, "Top Chef The Cookbook." How-fucking-ever, I would have preferred more anger. Particularly at the fucking fact that Anthony Bourdain got his own fucking chapter!

Listen to me Bourdain. You can no longer call yourself a chef. Not when you run around writing bad novels and appearing as a guest judge on shitty reality shows. What the fuck did you just say!? I HOST my own shitty reality shows, there's a big fucking difference.

Now back to this shitty, shitty, ever-so-shitty book. This book is to cooking what Bernanke is to your American economy. Do I need to know that some no-name loser contestant loves to use a certain kind of spatula? Does anyone care what Padma Lakshmi has to say about anything -- especially cookery?

Seems like some of the critics are not too keen on my new restaurant, called Plane Food, in Heathrow Airport. Like Jan Moir, a former critic for The Daily Telegraph, who is now running her own website called "Are You Ready to Order?"

Yes, I'm ready to fucking order. I'm ready to fucking order a critic with a clue. But I suppose I'll be waiting a bloody long time for that exotic delicacy to arrive at my table. Oh, I'm ready to fucking order; how about a nice "Bananas Foster Jan Moir" flambeed tableside. With a blowtorch.

I love the fucking "critic-speak" these gormless idiots use. Take this nugget from Moir's hatchet job of Plane Food: "the crab itself is pasty and unconvincing as a main ingredient."

Unconvincing? What the fuck are you talking about? It's not Meryl Streep, it's crab. It's not supposed to act or convince you of anything. It's supposed to be scooped the fuck up on your fork and eaten, you twit! It's crab! My word, people like her and Frank Bruni need to be stopped. The bullshit that spews forth from their keyboards is utterly mind-numbing.

Chef Paul Prudhomme, the guy who does that Cajun or Creole food or whatever the fuck that shit is down there, got shot the other day. Really not shot. They think a falling bullet just landed on the guy's arm. No real injury and it seems to be a pretty innocent mistake. Prudhomme was setting up to cook outdoors at a golf tournament when he was grazed by a .22 caliber bullet -- apparently from a hunter. But if you ask me, it could have been anyone using ammunition from these idiots.

But however the fuck it happened is no matter. No one should be fucking surprised that he got hit. With all due respect to Chef Prudhomme, he's a pretty fucking big target, yes? But I like the guy -- he seems like a good bloke.