Do you have a dog? Word to the wise – no-one actually cares. It’s your stupid, gristle-munching crap-factory and no-one else wants to deal with it outside of occasional petting of it when we have to visit your fur covered home that smells like dog’s teeth.
That’s because dogs are stupid. They’re impressively stupid. They walk into things, frighten themselves when flatulent and will forever be fooled by someone pretending to throw a ball for them. Dogs, in short, are idiots.
With that, someone ought to tell Eva Mendes who is ten shades of thrilled that she talks to her dog in French and is bowled over that it knows what she’s on about. Or rather, it has no idea.
Ah, Gerard Depardieu! It doesn’t really matter what you do with your career now because you’ll always be remembered as that drunk French guy who had a wazz in the aisle of an Air France plane.
WAIT!
What’s this? He’s at it again? This time, dressed as Obelix from Asterix? Really? How brilliant. Can we keep him?
Ah, Gerard Depardieu. He’s a daft old drunk isn’t he? When he emptied his bladder in the aisle of an Air France plane, we all chuckled about the effects of alcoholism in mental actors, but alas, we were all hugely wrong!
See, Gerard wasn’t drunk at all! He really wants to point out that he was as sober as can be.
Which surely, makes the whole ‘getting your chap out before a load of passengers and then taking a steaming leak all over the carpet’ thing considerably worse, right? Is he saying that being drunk is more shameful than wazzing in public?
Gerard Depardieu is the world’s most unlikely sex symbol, what with him having a face like a bear ravaged buttock that belongs to a scaly vagrant. Yet, the ladies love him! Is it because he’s a suave, refined man?
Well it can’t be that, given that this week, the French actor decided to have a massive piss in the aisle of an Air France plane.
Last night The Apprentice dabbled in poor Franglais and mildly racist yet entirely subconscious accents. Yes, Lord Sugar sent his minions to Paris to sell their crap to the French. He wants international business people, you see, as you can’t take over the world if your company’s only in the UK.
Unfortunately for everyone else, Melody was the only one who could actually speak French, setting in motion her plan for world domination. She’s like The Brain, but with better eyeliner. And Leon was her (slightly more attractive) Pinky.
Before Melody could get cracking with taking over everything though, Lord Sugar needed to rejig the teams. Helen got booted over to Venture, where Susan put herself forward for project manager, despite seemingly having no idea what France even is. That was OK though, because she got to play with fun little products, like the kiddy’s chair and the kiddy backpack. She clearly missed it when Lord Sugar told her to act like a “Big Person” at the end of last week.
When Jonathan Rhys Meyers isn’t running around New York unknowingly looking for his stupid musical prodigy son, he’s punching Frenchies in the face. It’s his passion, don’t you know.
Chances are you read that opening sentence and thought to yourself – “Yet another thing I have in common with that weird-eyed actor.” Well who doesn’t share that lust? Right? We absolutely love punching things that are French – be they sliced potatoes or Sarkozy ex-wives – we just want to give ‘em the ol’ salty knuckle.
Of course – we’d never do it publicly. That’s where Meyers loses us.
For some reason, the UK has taken it upon themselves to hate every other nation in the world.
Mostly through headlines on grubby downmarket tabloids, we are always reminded to hate the Germans because of the war and the Scottish due to an old butchering rivalry, with the other country that deluded working class white boys high on cider and bad drugs seem to hate being France.
Now why should we hate the French? They’ve given us plenty of things to like – from wine, through Va-Va-Vaoom and even a strange love of horse burgers (it’s like a tough steak). Granted, the last choice is more for animal protestors to piss and moan over.
But no, getting drunk off a Frenchman’s grapes isn’t good enough; we have to assume they all eat baguettes, cycle everywhere on crap bikes and wear necklaces of garlic instead of buying stuff from H&M. Thank the lord for Telepopmusik then eh?
Lily Allen – she’s that one who had pink hair, a godawful TV show and is generally a waste of space. Yeah, that sounds about right. Well now it would seem she’s got herself into MMA – that’s mixed martial arts – with some hardcore street fighting action. Well, hardcore may be a bit far, [...]
Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, myths, ancient artifacts, religion, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable. When mental imagery of a divining rod is conjured up in one’s mind, the picture of a man and a [...]
Do you have a dog? Word to the wise – no-one actually cares. It’s your stupid, gristle-munching crap-factory and no-one else wants to deal with it outside of occasional petting of it when we have to visit your fur covered home that smells like dog’s teeth.
When Jonathan Rhys Meyers isn’t running around New York unknowingly looking for his stupid musical prodigy son, he’s punching Frenchies in the face. It’s his passion, don’t you know.
For some reason, the UK has taken it upon themselves to hate every other nation in the world.
