Quit this infernal whinging Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. You are tuned in to the Great British Public (or should that be Grate?). Is it such a big deal that a ringtone featuring a genetically modified amphibian has stormed the airwaves and denied "the singer Coldplay" (© Ian Hislop) a number 1 place in the charts, a measure with which no living man should ever wish to be associated? No, it is not. The Crazy Frog is not a reason to slit your wrists and lose your faith in humanity (teen bloggers), nor is it any reason to start a government petition or lodge the Advertising Standards Authority with over 800 complaints - complaints which would otherwise be made against pre-watershed nudity and violence. You're wasting your voice on a ringtone. You've had your bitch. Now it's Tim Halbert's turn. You are British, and are a letdown to the rest of the world. You can't play sport, you produce some of the worst TV I've seen in years, and the only way you can come to terms with what you see happening before you in your daily lives is to label it a 'chav icon' or a 'Vicky Pollard'. Either it skids up the high street in modded Burberry, or it falls off the back of an openly homosexual freak show truck which shot clean past its sell-by date the moment it went mainstream. That's anti-alternativity for you. Go to Australia, where they win everything and play like real men, where they take pride in their broadcasting, and where everybody just agrees. Go to Australia. They have kangaroos and all, and it doesn't even smell of sewage. Australia, there. Addressing the facts now. The Crazy Frog is a piece of viral marketing genius. It has made more than 15 million euros. It is an example of outrageous minimalism exploiting the masses and laughing all the way to the proverbial bank as a result. Right now, I want to meet the CEO of Jamster! Inc., shake his hand, bow at his feet, and then perhaps offer him a glass of '84 Maggie River Sauvignon Blanc. Let's face it: if you ever grow up, you want to be the bloke who makes an entire nation roll around on their living room floors in tears of mortal agony. You really do. I've also heard some bad words being said about Sudoku puzzles. Let me tell you something. I did a Sudoku in bed the other night, and I thoroughly enjoyed every damn minute of it. So please stop complaining, Britain, and go back to helping little starving African kiddies. Thank you.