Despite being in jail for less time than it takes the average person to squeeze out a poo after a heavy night on the Guinness, Lindsay Lohan has apparently written enough guff in her ?prison journal? to turn it into a full-sized book.
That, or have someone else ghost-write her scrawlings into a full-sized book, which is basically the same thing, right?
On balance, this is probably a good thing. Surely, even she will be limited to one potential artistic outpouring from being in jail for a couple of hours, so the possibility of her releasing that album she threatened to make is rapidly approaching zero. Even better – books are so much easier to ignore, or burn, or turn into paper-mache representations of thin Irishmen drowning in a lake of half-dissolved gumdrops and chemical waste, than CDs, aren't they?
Anyway, now that we've established that this should be an easily ignorable endeavour by Lohan, short of her going on a national publicity tour where she screams passages from the opening chapter through a megaphone while people are shopping at local town markets, what's going to be in this Opus? DigitalSpy howls:
the actress kept meticulous notes about every aspect of her recent prison sentence? about her relationships with family members and even about her dreams
Given that she could probably catalogue every last thing that happened to her in jail using 24-point type on the side of the average piece of bacon, and still have space left for fatuous publicity quotes from people, well, like us (if you're interested, Lindsay, you can use this one for free, ?So good it immediately made me want hurt myself ? and others!?), it looks like the bulk of the book will be split between banging on about her weirdo father and describing in intricate detail the dreams of a recovering alcoholic.
Finally, we?ll be able to find out just how much more we can add to the file of ?Michael Lohan, the raging bell-end?.
Obviously, the catalogue of dickheadedness of her immediate family will take up the vast majority of the book, but it's the dream section that should bring out the patented Lohan crazy. Imagine the insight we?ll get into the mind of a child-star that no one really cares about anymore unless you see her behind the wheel of a car, in which case you really should be terribly concerned about her, and, oh god, can you see that look in her eye? You wish you had kept up your Heat subscription because you don't know if she's on uppers or downers this month, and by god that look in her eye is terrifying and you wish you'd told your girlfriend you loved her this morning, oh christ this is the end.
It could turn out to be important, is what I'm trying to say.
Think of what we?ll learn from her badly-remembered prison dreams. Dreams like the one where she is a stripper with a stigmatic twin with a psychic connection to her long-lost sister, which manifests as sympathetic wounds stemming from her sister being tortured by her old piano teacher. Or the one where she wins races with her talking car. Or the one where she is chased through the prison wards by a man-sized vagina that has legs made of arms and the inverted face of her father protruding from its depths.
Oh, wait. Those first two are obviously too stupid to even exist in someone?s subconscious. Sorry.