By now the haze of Christmas parties is bound to have worn off and you’ll be sitting there with nothing to show from the festive period but a photocopy of your genitals and an unplanned pregnancy; you’re probably looking back on the month or so preceding this and thinking, “Where did it all go wrong?”
That’s simple. You’re one of these people who gets so excited about the concept of Christmas that you vomit all over your facebook with excitement the first time you see that terrible Coca Cola advert.
SO YOU’VE PROBABLY ALREADY GUESSED THAT I’M GOING TO RUB IT IN YOUR FACE WHILE YOU RUB YOURSELF AND WONDER IF YOU MIGHT HAVE CRABS.
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A sports personality we can’t name for legal reasons (not Barry Venison, pictured right, we just like his hair) was this week seen with his similarly unnamed wife arguing in the street with the unnamed person who may or may not been his former lover of an unnamed amount of time.
The sportsman in question, a legend of the sports world with over 900 appearances for an unnamed Manchester football club, had previously taken out a superinjunction that prevented us from reporting on his other extramarital affair, with an unnamed Big Brother contestant.
He and his wife were seen to approach his unnamed sister in law in order to confront her over going to the tabloids and spilling her unnamed guys about the near decade long affair.
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How would you describe Katie Holmes? Attractive? Wholesome? Trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who controls her every action, safe in the knowledge that aliens told him to do it because he’s the chosen one?
No?
How about ‘Pumpkin slut’? Go on, say it out loud. It has a lovely ring to it and rolls off the tongue nicely. Slutty pumpkin! Tarty lantern! Halloween hussy! That’s right kids, the witching hour is near and Holmes is going to get all promiscuous.
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Hey! Katie Holmes is married to slab of prime thetan, Tom Cruise. As you know, they’re both Scientologists, which makes them certifiably mad. Don’t argue. This is just a fact that’s as plain as the nose on your weird alien-believing face.
Of course, mad people have a myriad of odd symptoms and behavioural patterns. One such thing is to marry a man half your height.
Another is being afraid of an absence of light. That’s right! Katie Holmes is scared of the dark and probably screams in terror every time she blinks. That’s because she’s mental. We pointed that out already didn’t we?
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Katie Holmes may well be wealthy and successful, but that doesn’t stop the entire world pitying her. For starters, she’s in the unfortunate position of being married to Supreme Thetan, Tom Cruise AND she’s no doubt aware that everyone laughs at her because she’s one of those women who towers over her beau.
And so, to stop us from thinking that she’s a dead-eyed Scientologist with a head filled with quasi-religious gunk, she’s decided to act like One Of The Girls by talking about her knickers.
Because talking about your underpants in public isn’t peculiar at all is it? Nope. Not one bit. UNLESS YOU’RE SOME KIND OF GUSSET OBSESSED NUTTER THAT IS.
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When conducting an interview with Leona Lewis, it is best to set a tape recorder running because, should you fall asleep with tedium (an absolutely certainty), you’ll still get a document of the words she says.
Alas, the problem is, is that, when you listen to those same words back, you’ll fall into a coma all over again, leaving you with a predicament. hecklerspray tends to rig a car battery to the soft, delicate skin of the genital area to keep us from wholly passing-out.
And yet, despite this, Leona Lewis has the audacity to suggest that she isn’t boring at all. She’s not boring, because she says she isn’t boring. Not because she actually wants to tell us of the non-boring things she indulges in. She won’t even talk about her curdling hatred of cats.
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Tom Cruise is a Scientlogist. That’s all he is now. He used to be an actor and pin-up, but now he’s just a religious nutter, the same as all the other religious nutters around the world. As such, no-one really trusts him anymore.
That’s not stopped people wanting to hire him for films though, as it has been reported that he’s to star in a post-apocalyptic, film called Oblivion.
It would appear that our Tom is more than happy to believe in the aliens that birthed his make-believe religious group but, alas, also happy to chase them around and kill them in the name of movie making.
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This may come as a shock to people used to the gritty realism of documentaries like Eastenders, Coronation Street, and Strictly Come Dancing - but it’s pretty much all smoke and mirrors. Even the bits that look really real, like the copious twirling. It’s all staged and you’re being played like a fiddle.
There’s a show that’s two episodes in, called Made in Chelsea. It’s basically The Only Way is Essex but with more-abrasive accents and less fake tan. The show centres around the entirely contrived lives of a group of people we’re no longer convinced even know each other.
Let’s start at the beginning – the show follows wealthy 20-somethings as they walk around Chelsea in circles, occasionally making passive-aggressive remarks toward each other. Producers fill any awkward gaps with scenery or shots of the cast wishing they were somewhere else. An hour long show contains about 30 minutes of the cast, mouths agape and struggling to find some witty put down for the asshole who crossed their paths while wearing Topshop.
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