That dog. Haha! It nearly killed a load of deer and everyone laughed. The man. The man he chased the dog. He shouted Benton! Wait. It transpired it was called Fenton. Some people said “See, I always knew it was Fenton” in the world’s crappiest ‘toldyaso‘.
Then the man said ‘Jesus Christ!’ and every single gusset moistened with laughter before, in unison, the whole universe saw a gigantic hole split in its side. Quite simply, this is the funniest thing to happen to us poor creatures since Del Boy fell through a bar.
And now, this wretched meme is going to bother the charts this Christmas and it’s backed by the odious Fearne Cotton. Oh, how the British public love a novelty record. This can’t possibly fail. Basically, do a Carluccio and stick a bread-knife through your heart now. Not convinced? Listen to it over the jump, now.
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It’s christmas. Woopdeedoo and loop de loop and all that. Yes, that’s right, since you all asked so fucking nicely, we didn’t bother to do a video this week as it’s the festive season and is therefore all about building up your hopes in order to dash them.
In fact, we’re so set on driving you all to distraction that we’re going to have Christmas specials every week now because that’s exactly what christmas is all about. Incessant disappointment until you eat so much chocolate and drink so much cheap sherry that you may as well check into Dignitas on Boxing Day.
Still, euthanasia aside, it’s always best to start the Christmas period as early as possible because that’s where you make the most money and since all of you dribbling gits out there in internet land believe that the Christmas period can only officially begin when the Coca Cola advert has tugged its way around your heartstrings, we decided to start as soon as they do.
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Over in America, Dr. Conrad Murray is being accused of administrating some mental sounding drugs into Michael Jackson and causing him to carry out his last boogie.
However, it isn’t just the remaining members of the Jacksons that he has to prove his innocence to. The singer’s children also want answers and then, we have the fans that all seem to have been touched by Michael in their own special way.
The Moonwalking For Justice trial is expected to last for months, but this hasn’t stopped a cultish gathering of Jackofans to gather in Cardiff on Saturday 8th August. There, the king of pop’s life will be celebrated whilst a man is still being tried. With both events happening at the same time, some say it’s a bit sickening. But hey, they’ll be mincing their words now. After all, the gig has been injected with totally mad and uber kewl Fearne Cotton. Who wouldn’t want to go?
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The year is 2011AD and no-one has quite managed to work out what the point of Fearne Cotton is. Even her BBC bosses think she’s useless, but they persist in hiring her under the misguided notion that she appeals to Ver Yoof of Britain.
Even they hate her.
Still, at least Fearne has someone to go home to who will hold her and love her when all around are loudly booing and hissing at her, right? Wrong. That’s because she’s now as single as can be after it was announced that she’s split from her fiancé Jesse Jenkins. Presumably, he’s only just started to hear what people have actually been saying about his entirely hopeless ex.
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Ladies and gentleman, a modern day miracle has occurred, Holly Willoughby has been cured of her fear of ghosts, much to the delight of Phillip Schofield’s long dead career.
Willoughby, also affectionately known as the Willobooby, suffered from Spectrophobia (which it turns out is a genuine phobia and not a bad 70s sci fi series) so badly that she was once reduced to tears on the set of This Morning after a segment about ghostly apparitions.
Wooooooooooooo! *rattles chains*
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You may have heard that Chris Moyles – Radio 1′s captive beluga whale – has just finished doing something dead exciting.
Something more braver than what a soldier’s ever done. Something Andy McNabb would run away from, screaming like a pepper-sprayed toddler. Yes, last week Radio 1′s hot (like a panful of boiling lard) property stayed awake for longer than is comfortable. What a hero. A stalwart. A charitable chap.
Oh, and a pervert, as his last on-air wish was to have a bikini-clad Fearne Cottton enter his sweaty radio pit merely to spike his fatigue-laden libido.
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It’s difficult to imagine, but the life of Beth Ditto – who, because we’re such hideously clever dicks at hecklerspray, we will hereafter refer to as Beth Beth – is not just one long procession of standing in the way of Kate Moss, ripping all her clothes off whenever a glance is thrown in her direction, and sitting atop winged horses, helmet-horns glinting in the furious fires of Valhalla, scattering mortals with the power of her demonic screams.
Sometimes she finds room in that busy schedule for kicking back, relaxing, chucking on her neon-pink skintight onesie leisurewear, curling up with a classic of gothic literature, and squeezing her brain tightly until opinions form like diamonds in a bleak mountainside.
And even better, she then tells us about it! She really is the honking gift that just keeps honking, and won’t stop till our ears actually start bleeding!
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Before we even start talking about Beth Ditto, let us just point something out to everyone – there is no correct size to be if you’re a human being. Okay? People who make an issue out of their, or anyone else’s weight, is an unrelenting dick. Okay? Okay.
Unrelenting dick, Beth Ditto, continues to see herself as some kind of political activist for people who aren’t thin, hitting out at imagined critics who she assumes are sniggering under their breath at her, taunting her and calling her a big fat twat.
With the spotlight well and truly taken off her band, The Gossip, and now glued into place on stomach, Ditto has howled in anguish about people who assume thin women are automatically healthier. Read More >>>
