He reads aloud very badly*. He isn't funny. He isn't good to look at. He can't write.
You can see where this is going, can't you?
Perhaps I could make a tiny bit of money reading the funnier bits of my LJ out on stage wearing a low-cut top.
I really wish I'd heckled him now. I was tempted to shout 'Speak up love, we can't hear you. Your voice is too muffled by having YOUR HEAD UP YOUR ARSE'.
*My reading aloud at various weddings has been much complimented. My speaking voice has been described as 'a mixture of Margaret Thatcher and Joanna Lumley' and (when I was briefly a station announcer at Colchester Rail station) 'like someone giving one's ears a blowjob'. Also when I'm angry, 'like having the wrath of god in the room'.