Clearly, the United Kingdom has learned no lessons from Eurovision. We won’t ever win because people ‘vote’ enough for us through the year, buying our many exported pop acts. Eurovision is a chance for these countries to show rightful contempt for us and, of course, celebrate their own.
Instead of playing a sob story like we endure on the likes of The X Factor and the like, we have started sending known acts in the misguided hope that they’ll pick up votes. Blue deservedly bombed thanks to being one of the most odious collections of men since Mugabe put a 5-a-side team together.
And next year, it looks like we’re set to send more pampered divs to the slaughterhouse as it appears that the Spice Girls will be going to Eurovision in 2012.
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This weekend has been Baby Weekend, with a myriad of slebs all dropping sprogs. Matt Bellamy and Kate Hudson have had one, but no-one really cares about a Goldie Hawn’s daughter and a singer who looks like his whole face has been pinched in a vice every morning for the last two decades.
No, the big celebrity baby story of the weekend is David and Victoria Beckham’s little girl. She was cut out of the former Spice Girls’ stomach, to protect her tiny papercut of a front-bum from being stretched to snapping point, leaving her with one famous orifice.
And of course, they needed a name for this little bundle of potential let-down… and they’ve gone for Harper Seven.
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The birth of any child is a wonderful thing… if of course, by ‘wonderful’, you actually mean ‘remarkably irritating’. See, when someone shunts a child from their middle, we’re supposed to treat it like some kind of miracle. Of course, no-one coos and fawns when someone brings a newborn foal into the office, still covered in amniotic gunk.
Childbirth isn’t any bigger or smarter than any other creature squirting out their shitting offspring. It’s dull and further proof that our future as humans is doomed as each baby grows up to be yet another alcopop drinking div in bad Asda George t-shirts.
When celebrities have babies growing in them, it is of even less relevance to us all, yet still we dribble enthusiastically, poised over our keys to tap out feigned glee to twitter accounts and Facebook fan pages. Victoria Beckham’s imminent idiot is one such example.
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Here’s the kicker: When a sperm unifies with an egg and the cells split, resulting in a baby growing inside your womb, it will eventually start showing around your guts. You may look fat, but in actual fact, it’s just a human hiding under your skin. Right?
This is pretty basic science, but something Victoria Beckham doesn’t seem to understand.
Basically, Posh is hitting the gym constantly in a bid to stay thin, something that her ball-kicking husband, David, is keen to discourage her from. It would appear that one of the dimmest sportsmen on the planet has a better grasp of the gestation period than his wife. Which in itself is astonishing enough.
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When the Spice Girls first exploded onto the popscene, they dominated the charts by simply shouting more loudly than anyone else. The curious thing was, is that they never seemed to like each other. Ever.
At the centre of the hate always seemed to be Geri Halliwell and Mel B, both vying for position as leader of the band when the truth of the matter is, Simon Fuller was always the one wearing the trousers. Well, literally.
And as the girls went their separate way, so the ill feeling loomed larger, with the exception of Emma Bunton who seems painfully pleasant. So are Geri and Mel B sneering at each other then? No, this time, Victoria Beckham is getting it in the neck, presumably because she’s had the audacity to become the most famous of the crew, despite being the least talented by some distance. Girl power and all that!
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When hecklerspray heard the news that Victoria and David Beckham were reportedly coming back to the UK, we all got into the bath in our sticky bedsit and tried to drown each other.
When that didn’t work we even tried to self harm with the jaggy edge off our pot noodle sauce sachet but sadly that failed too and now we’re forced to apply plasters to our hurty bits and find a way to live with this awful news.
So far we’re pretty much sitting in stunned silence which is only broken by the sound of our editor screaming “OH CHRIST! OH JESUS CHRIST NO!!!” like Edward Woodward when his sedatives have worn off.
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Remember the Spice Girls? Of course you do! They had roughly three half decent pop songs, with the rest being derivative, throwaway trash. Each member had their own unique personality trait foisted upon them, which of course, slowly dissolved to reveal personalities often far uglier.
There was Scary Spice, who became Vaguely Controlling, Eddie Murphy Humping Spice. There was Posh Spice who, bafflingly, because the most famous of the lot, despite turning into Boring But Frequently Photographed Spice. Then there was Sporty Spice who became Seems Like She’s The Most Personable Spice Despite Doing A Song With Bryan Bloody Adams. And Baby Spice who briefly became Attractive Spice In That Video Where She Wore A Gingham Shirt before settling on Myleene Klass Spice Who Sits On A Judging Panel For An Ice Skating Show Despite Having No Experience In Said Sport. Finally, there’s Ginger Spice who became Terrifyingly Unhinged Spice.
Seriously. Geri Halliwell is more frightening than Lucy from Take Me Out. And she’s involved in something of a spat with the rest of the Spice Girls over unreleased material.
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Once upon a time there was a girl who couldn’t sing. Llike all good fame hungry, fake tanned dunderheads, she joined a silly band with other girls who also sang in the key of ‘pish’, married a footballer and stopped eating until she was built like the side of a five pound note.
Then while playing hangman with her husband, she drew some trousers on the stick man and decided to become a fashion designer.
It probably didn’t go exactly like that but we’re guessing it’s not far off.
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