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 >>>
The day the forces of the undead and the deaddead join together in an unholy union has arrived. Live in fear, peons.
For you see, the recently (the other year) died-but-didn’t Amy Winehouse has been haunted by the ghost of the recently (the other month) died-but-did Michael Jackson.
But why did Jackson visit her, of all people? Why, to warn her of the dangers of drugs, obviously.
It would seem his spirit learned faster than his body did.
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If you were Elvis, and you were dead but all these fantastic songs kept popping into your head and you just had to let the public hear them, you’d probably possess the body of your chunky daughter to get the job done.
And while you inhabited that body you’d probably use its hands to wipe away all the sweat you didn’t know your little girl had to deal with every time she ate. Like father like daughter.
When you weren’t wiping away the sweat, though, you’d use her hands to record the most incredible music the world has ever known. hecklerspray‘s theory is that this is where we got Lisa Marie’s two solo records from. That’s why they’re written so impeccably from the perspective of someone who died from a severe over-consumption of hotdogs and chocolate cake. Think about it.
But speaking of Elvis’ ghost – Lisa Marie still speaks to Elvis’ ghost. Isn’t that interesting? We have their recent summed up conversation for you on the next page.
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