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.
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Women! When you’ve stopped complaining about the negative, overtly sexual images of women in media, which breed an unrealistic body-ideal in young girls, we’d like to point you in the direction of David Beckham in his underpants.
See, ol’ GoldenNads has done a photoshoot for some undercrackers he’s flogging through dreary clothing bazaar, H&M.
A number of women have stopped worrying about the patriarchy long enough to admire Beckham’s bulge and sigh with feint arousal everytime they see it. So what does David have to say about it? Well, it doesn’t involve stuffing but it does involve his daughter.
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Richard Branson is a slimeball git. His greatest sleight of hand is that he’s passed himself off as some kind of lovable British eccentric who flies balloons and wants to send the wealthy on flights to the moon.
However, in reality, he’s a shitehawk who likes nothing more than ferreting vast sums of money in offshore accounts, so he doesn’t have to pay all that pesky tax.
While you all know about that, what you don’t know is that he’s developed a series of murderous houses… y’know, like that one from The Shining? And the latest victim of his nefarious masonry is Kate Winslet who nearly got burned alive. At least it would’ve put a bit of colour in her tediously pale face.
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Models are, if we’re being honest, the most crashingly wearisome humans on Earth. They’re hired to be transparent when wearing clothes (why would a designer hire a human who actively distracts you from their clothes, huh?) and work so much that their lives are a series of non-events.
The only time anyone gets truly interested in a model is when they start talking about the terrible regimes they endure to stay so sickeningly thin. Laxatives, cigarettes and bulimia doesn’t make for a glamorous proposition.
And so, Kate Moss has started work on her first autobiography, which will hopefully be mostly focusing on what a monster Naomi Campbell seems to be.
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All women are completely imaginary unless they’re curvy. You didn’t know? That’s right! If you’re thin, you are most certainly not a real woman. If you don’t have big boobs, then you’re definitely not a real woman. If you have no discernible junk in the trunk, then sorry, you’re a figment of your own imagination.
And this has been a constant message from many quarters for the past two years in an attempt to turn women against each other in the name of reclaiming body shape from the perceived enemy of the press that propels the notion that to be glamorous, you must be thin.
Now Kate Winslet is joining in to say she’s more real than you because she has curves.
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We’re going to start this off by dragging your collective minds out of the gutter… we mean the lips on her face. Anyone who thought different will be made to sit and write 1,000 lines, with an also-ostracised Editor Mof Gimmers.
Explaining why her breasts were cast to offset the bombastic and yet somehow monotonous and threadbare work of Michael Bay, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley has spoken about the facial features that got her bullied in secondary school.
It’s going to be a long summer filled with less-than-special effects and poorly-implemented 3D that’s going to make you whimper for something lower tech. A few of this season’s films look especially ropey on the old effects there; The Green Lantern and Captain America among the worst. As not even boys can suffer through 120 minutes of explosions, all of these films are going to have bonus boobs. Boobs, attached to some pretty-but-interchangeable woman, who’s onscreen intermittently to remind you there is a God.
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Oh! How inspirational Daisy Lowe is! She’s got ‘curves’, which is the catch-all phrase for women who are, essentially, very fat. Curves in the model sense, of course, means a shapely figure as opposed to two curves, each starting at the neck and arcing outward, tapering in at the ankle.
Anyway, with her ‘curves’, Daisy is a thumb in the eye for all those waif-like models who are, we’re told, not ‘real women’, and as such, must be ‘imaginary’. Either way, they’re all very willing to take their clothes off in arty photoshoots, allowing men and women to objectify them all the same.
Of course, ‘real women’ are, we’re constantly reminded, better than thin women. Naturally, we have to scrutinise the bodies of every single one of them to decide what it is we think of them, ultimately ending in applause for Lowe because she’s rather thin as opposed to really thin. And she’s now happy with her equally unattainable shape, for which we must show our endless gratitude.
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Queen Bee of the America’s Next Top Model Bitches, Tyra Banks, can smile with her eyeballs. Now, she’s winking with her pelvic floor muscles as she begins a period in her life which is completely condomless. What? She’s trying to catch a sexually transmitted disease?!
Don’t be silly. Obviously, she’s trying to get pregnant because she’s reached that stage of her life when she feels like she’s got absolutely nothing to offer the world other than identical pictures of a baby coughing up mashed-up swede through it’s crusty little nose holes.
Imagine Tyra’s mothering skills! *shudder*
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