Tinsel Town Snitch in meltdown Thursday, 30 June 2011

The hills are alive with gossip that Ross King is receiving counselling and electric shock therapy.

It seems all that glitters is not always necessarily golden globes for the former GMTV entertainment anchor following a recent breakdown at a suntan spray booth.

Makeup Mandy’s suntan booth employee Caitlin said “He came in being his usual creepy self and was slurring his words, Id got as far as spraying his naked ass when he spun round and shouted im the biggest cock in Hollywood, I hit the panic button and he was forcibly removed from the shop”  

Police were also called to a recent awards ceremony after it was alleged he threw a punch at Cameron Diaz determined to break her nose after being snubbed for a impromptu on the spot interview, seen minesweeping drinks from V.I.P  tables, swiped a goodie bag reserved for celebs and later that night seen urinating upon Michael Jackson’s Hollywood star.

A recent break in at Sean Penn’s Hollywood beachside condo home point suspiciously to the one time friend of Hollywood, tell tale clues include,  a heavy foundation face imprint on patio French doors, a discarded teeth whitener pencil , a empty can of  Irn Bru, and key ring of Lorraine from ‘GMTV’days sucking her thumb suggestively.

Concern is his gone feral after the breakdown of Gmtv and the failings at Daybreak.

Worried celebs have reported seeing him sleeping rough and referring to celebs in his native tongue Glaswegian as ‘gobshites’

Close friends say his actions are totally out of character, gone is the cheesy fixed smile that would put you both on edge and at ease at the same time, the forced laughter and general arse kissing and dyed orange hair have been replaced with fits of rage, heavy drinking and grey roots.

His Hollywood publicist said “No comment” then retracted that statement and issued  another which was simply ‘fuck him you should see what his done in my pool’, but that’s Hollywood one minute your on top of the world in Hello magazine mixing it with the stars the next your on the streets sucking people off for food and mixing it with the underclass.

Reports that Carla Romano fell about laughing when told are unconfirmed.

   

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Don’t go drinking with a Movie Hard Man. Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Casey Ryback from ‘Under Siege’ or better known as Steven Weird Triangle purple black hair transplant Seagal is a man that would stand for nothing, If he called me up mumbling that he had a weekend off coming up and lets go out drinking I would have to make an excuse , he is not who you want to go out drinking with at the bowling multiplex at a weekend.

The mumbling hardman is guaranteed trouble it would only take a simpleton to be smoking in a ‘non smoking’ area and a cheeky ‘go fuck yourself’ remark when asked to distinguish said cigarette before he set about destroying just about everybody within arm length with body slaps, you would be the one that gets the fatal glass stabbing, its your job as his sidekick.

In summary, handy to know on a cruise ship or the London underground after midnight otherwise forget it.

Dutch (Arnold Schwarzenegger) from ‘Predator’ would be great until he started cheerfully backslapping you whenever he laughed, nothing he says would make sense until you were on your seventh pint of snake bite and black, and the cigar smoke could be nauseous, also his machismo would render you looking like ‘Louie Spence’ and you don’t want that when your on the pull or its time to fight the bad guys.

In summary, The fun of you both shouting 'get to da chopper' would quickly be outweighed by you ending up looking so feminine next to him you would have a hard job convincing people you were not gay.  

Rambo first blood would be depressing you’d need to keep him off the whiskey and have to avoid all references to Vietnam and pray the jukebox doesn’t come a live at any point in the evening to the sounds of ‘19’ by Paul Hardcastle, your probably going to be putting in a call to Colonel Samuel Trautman when a police community support officer innocently asks you both to move along and make your way home at the end of a heavy cocktail session in ‘T.G.I Fridays’ at chucking out time.

In Summary his a loaded gun, one wrong word and he could be town bound popping wheelies on a stolen Yamaha DT125 and god forbid Colonel Trautmen’s mobile is off or in a signal less area should you need to put the call in.

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Darius Danesh will fuck your women. Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Darius Danesh the 6ft 5inch anti-hero of music has and will try and fuck your Mum, your sister, your fat niece, your disabled gran, how?, with his eyes that’s how and a twisted smirk, whatever you do switch over whenever he arrives on screen, he will look deep into the lens and try and fuck them, he tried it with me when I watched  Popstars back in 2000 and I was having none of it, I spat in his face and turned the TV off.

It may be to late for some of you, if his held your aunties gaze for more than five seconds through the lens then she’s as good as been fucked, ten seconds and his done her twice, right in front of your very own eyes!

Don’t rest up thinking once his done he won’t do her again, he will, reach for the remote and put an end to it.

  

Darius has recently changed him name to Campbell, suggestions are that he wanted to embarrass the Scots by owning up that he is indeed Scottish which wasn’t welcomed by the Scots but the rest of us can breathe a sigh of relief.

I think it’s inevitable that Darius will one day pop up on the Eurovision song contest, he will then try and fuck the rest of the world if not with his eyes then with his terrible cheesy music.

 You’ve been warned, protect your women folk.

  

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I want the Ceo of Robinson fruit drink to re-enact the advert in Tottenham Monday, 27 June 2011

I often watch adverts, say watch I am forced to watch the shit they push through the screen because money talks……, the latest heart warming ad that has no base in reality has been made by Robinsons. No doubt you’ve seen it, a middle class street and a middle class family with a token black kid for demographics thrown in.

What follows next is pure farce, the kids gather round mummy no doubt they call her mummy not mum, she provides them with a pitcher of Robinson juice and plenty of glasses they then embark across the local area handing out free drinks, its enough to make you call social services and report the bitch, what is she thinking.

This is corporate advertising for you, senior members of staff completely out of touch who probably haven’t heard of ‘rimming’ or ‘T-bagging’, they are living in a world that doesn’t exist.

These kids wouldn’t make it out of the street where I grew up they’d be found covered in Robinsons juice, spit and piss, and I grew up in Croydon which is nothing compared to Tottenham, they would have been tortured, water boarded with gallons of Robinsons.

I hate corporate adverts another is the Halifax but I will address that later when I can write anything, something, that doesn’t involve the word ‘cunts’.       

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England Rugby player Mike Tindall prevents 20,000 suicides a month



Mike Tindall has become a pinup amongst the Ugly men of this country, passing an uncanny resemblance to sloth from the Goonies hasn’t hindered Mikes pulling ability, his not only giving royalty one but his going to marry into royalty.

This is a clear case of watering down the blue blood line done every now and again to prevent one fucking anothers bloodline, this is done in order to prevent bearing children that...er…look like Mike!

Thousands of men who have fucked up noses and nothing to write home about looks have stopped throwing themselves onto power lines, murdering innocent people before turning the knife on themselves or hanging themselves in their garage, if Mike can do horse face royal Zara Phillips they surely have hope of fucking Miss wanna be Britney Spears down at the local  ‘Railway Tavern’.

If it turns out Mike has a 10 inch penis then ‘Bet Fred’ are putting on good odds that suicide rates will sky rocket.

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I ordered Noel Edmonds death

Cosmic ordering is a kind of religion it’s for people that want something for free.

What’s appealing about it is that unlike other religions you don’t have to partake in any strange rituals or dress up, you’re not required to don a tribal mask and spit at the full moon declaring all things cosmic are all powerful.

Noel Edmonds some say cosmic orderings leader brought it to my attention, he didn’t spell it out but planted the seed subconsciously, that seed is simply if a fool like that can make it and lead a charmed existence for so long using the system then anyone can, its current success has been founded on its genius advertising or just gullible people or a mix of the two.

I now know it doesn’t work/exist, how do I know?, I have an outstanding list of unfulfilled requests from the cosmic.

If the system works why haven’t I received ‘Life changing money’, why hasn’t one of the happy clappy pilgrims snapped and done a Mark Chapman on Noel Edmonds ass, why hasn’t Jedward been found in a rain soaked open grave, admittedly I did get excited when Jordan had that near fatal range rover crash some months ago with her Argentinean boyfriend but it couldn’t even do that right, so I urge you not to put all your faith into this scam and save some for God his not terribly reliable but if enough of us pray he might totally fuck Noel Edmonds up and his cosmic ordering scam.

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Zumba brainwashing the fat Sunday, 26 June 2011

Zumba is a combination of aerobic and high-energy Latin and international beats that turns big ass Carole from accounts into some hip swinging ‘Nutty Professor’ dancing nightmare.  

In the the past fat women wouldn’t move unless it involved a sugary treat as way of bribery, but the chubsters are fighting back and now they have a medium in which they can express themselves.

Enter any Zumba dojo and you will find women a plenty heavy on the hips swinging that ass to a well choreographed routine, these women lose their inhibitions as soon as the beat drops, the class usually led by a bandana wearing coke snorting feminist who’s finishing 180 hours of community service whips the class up into a cult like frenzy, under different conditions and armed with bats and ill formed information they could be likened to a group of vigilantes roaming an estate for a paedophile, admittedly rocking up swinging their hips in unison might not be as intimdating as a group of feral kids that can't distinquish between stamping on an ant and stamping on a member of the church but none the less the point is they are lost in the moment.

The worst bit about Zumba is that its so easy to learn the steps, this allows the once down trodden fatties to suddenly think they are the bees knees and they begin to ‘give it large’ just when you begin to start likeing them for trying to lose weight, so you end up with a paradox, yes they are making an effort to improve themselves by the power of Zumba dance but ironically still end up  just being a fat dancing cunt from  accounts.
  

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I see 'normal' couples Saturday, 25 June 2011

I see dead people, 'couples' that walk around like regular people, I feel like troubled nine-year-old ‘Cole Sear’ with Bruce Willis as my chaperone, I see them everywhere, pushing prams, driving faceless characterless vehicles like Renault Scenic’s with the halfords grey roof luggage carrier, wandering round town they all have the same haunted look about them.

I want to communicate with them find our their unfortunate back-story that led them to passing over. Sometimes it happens when I bump into someone I once knew and they communicate with me, the gaunt pale faces, arms outstretched, mouth a gap, telling me about the young children they have now, I see the eyes are gone and their a ghostly figure grasping for anything mutually interesting they can say, but they can never find the words, its always awkward, they know they are no longer in the land of the living, its breaks my heart when they reveal their off to Homebase, I have a gift or burden depending on your viewpoint.

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WARNING an accent can make you sound like a cunt!

What is it with accents, I love watching 'Poms in OZ' with these brits that have been living there for six months standing around a community beachside barbeque

with flies all over them harping on about how great their life is now, back in England they were unhappy cunts.

Travelling to the other end of the world and introducing themselves to an unhealthy dose of radiation courtesy of the burning fire in the sky has somehow removed all signs of cuntishness but sadly only from their own prospective because its coming through loud and clear to me, it must be some time\displacement physics going on, now they just look like smug cunts, the remarkable thing for me is the speed in which they have adopted the nasally annoying twang and vernacular calling everybody an Abbo, the Australian accent is like a fatal water disease easily caught impossible to lose.

In summary its embarrassing adopting an accent, I will concede its ok over a period of time like twenty years or so but having a full on accent in days as opposed to years says more about the individual namely, your impressionable and a dick!, You wont catch me adopting an accent anytime soon ya facking mongrels!

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Killing for a home of your own Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Up and down the country there are 30 something’s contemplating how to off their parents, they are upstairs in their bedrooms pulling down tired old posters and plotting.

The average age of a first time buyer is 38 which is enough to drive anyone to murder, in my parents day they were married and owned thier own home by 25 anyone who didn’t was treated like McCloud from Highlander, jeered, spat at, headbutted and banished from the local community.

Kids, no sorry 38 years olds are risking their own life’s to pop the parents off, climbing up onto the roof and blocking the chimneys, loosening the steering wheel on mums Toyota Yaris , faking their own deaths in the hope their parents will die of a broken heart,  double booking premier rooms at the Swiss euthanasia clinic

It’s the Baby Boomers generation that have caused this, our grandparents celebrated the end of war with plenty of fucking which resulted in our parents, who if you have a home of your own are thankfully living longer because of advances in medication and better diets.

My thirties have been preoccupied with trying to get a place of my own, my parents breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled their heads from out of the bath and gasped that I could have some money, so they and I are getting on with our life’s, mine burden with debt and theirs no longer preoccupied with my whereabouts and whether ive been drinking or not.

  

   

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You won't catch me with shit on my hands Monday, 20 June 2011

One of the few things that make me feel uneasy is watching someone pick dogshit up, its worse seeing someone pick up dog shit with no dog in sight that’s creepy but seeing the owner with the dog when its doing it can become an awkward encounter.

Your dog really can be mans best friend but sometimes that friend can be your undoing, your dog is almost forgiveable in all situations but one.

Shitting at the feet of a beautiful woman you've just met in the park, its a conversation killer there's no way back when your best friend pulls a face of strain and plops one out, there’s nothing that can be said that can ever put that right it's better to lose face and cut the conversation short and pick the curly mound up and walk away without your dignity in check, no point prolonging the agony and then avoid that park for months. 

The only place Ive seen where the rules are relaxed is Hastings but you can't blame a dog when the owner is just as likely to shit in the street.     

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Clint Squint

Ive worked out by employing the ‘Clint squint’ I can command more respect.

Clint Eastwood would squint to give his character more angst, A word of warning though you need the correct dialogue as well simply looking at someone with the Clint squint may imply you’ve farted and followed through, of course you could reverse the process and should you fart and shit yourself reach for the Clint squint and remove yourself from said pub, cinema, dining experience making sure to make eye contact with everyone as they try and avert your gaze in fear of you.

You may want to smoke a cigar to as this will help remove the air of shit that orbits you as you drift manfully towards the exit, I would hold fire on blowing smoke in anyone’s face, save that for another day.  

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Mork lives above me

The TV series starring Robin Williams saw a loveable Mork on our planet after being sent to earth to observe human behaviour, my Mork I feel has been banished from his planet ‘Ork’, I fear for the same reasons that make me want to end his family tree.

Mork has managed to infiltrate our complex benefits system and is now living off incapacity benefit and has convinced officials his got a bad back and that work on this planet wouldn’t be good for him, spending his days on his back and his evenings what can only be likened to auditioning for the famous stage show ‘Stomp’ upon my ceiling.

Morks lived above me now for 2 years, I don’t believe he will ever be called back to the home planet he came from I think he probably leeched off the system there, his somebody’s else’s problem, namely mine and Earths.  

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Sky2 sent Charley Boorman to die in the desert.

The Dakar rally is considered one of the most dangerous races to partake in, its held once a year and I think it was brilliant broadcasting to stick posh boy Charley Boorman on a high powered motorcycle and put him in the middle of it all, the absurdity of the premise can only be comparable to the scene of Diehard 3 when John Mclaine’s forced to walk through the ghetto wearing a sandwich board that read “I hate black people”.

Charley set off with two others who were like his Nepalese mountain guides on bikes, one a little known English guy just grateful to be away from home and the other a prima donna harden Aussie who had cheated a Dakar death twice before.

The two guides took off as soon as the rally started and left clueless Charley to effectly die in the desert if it were not for the very expensive production crew commissioned to follow him.

Charley’s Dakar came to an abrupt end when near exhaustion a speck of sand obscured his vision and he hit a rock and nose dived into the sand, unlike ‘The Rock’ in the movie ‘Scorpion king’ he didn’t arise heroically from the sand he lay there whimpering until the production crew who were all of ten feet behind him the entire journey and in constant radio contact disembarked the truck and lavished him with sympathy, hot beverages and praise.


It was the end for Charley he would have to nurse the suspected broken bone in his hand in the comfort of an entourage and catering tents, he seemed to recover enough to text his wife, meanwhile the Aussie ploughed on and on knowing he had Charley’s full support which was radioed through to his helmet by Charley at the other end of a walkie talkie as he starred lovingly into the camera lens  which made all the difference as Aussies are remarkably sentimental.


Days later the Aussie came into the finishing flag blind and gagging on desert flies with Charley waving gayfully at him, there was a brief sombre moment when it was announced a few people had died trying to conquer the course, but Charley’s mood quickly lifted when his best bud Ewan McGregor arrived as a publicity stunt to raise the profile of the event oh … and the catering tent was again open for business.

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God hates Wimbledon

It’s the summer commonly known in June as monsoon season and when the dark clouds begin to gather around this time of year, it’s a clear message from God, he too hates Wimbledon!

Every years the same middle class people crowd into the place like girls at an all girl’s boarding school pushing and shoving there way to the front of the queue at the only phallic shaped dorm door handle in the school after dark.

Tim Henman can no longer embarrass the nation both with his dismal inability to hit the ball back and his boring monosyllabic monotone voice which im advised is played at abattoirs to help destroy cattle some say its cruel but when you’ve shot a steel bolt through a cows head and its still looking at you like “what did you do that for” there’s no choice but to do a ‘Henman’ on it, the cow simply gives up the will to live and voluntarily swallows its own tongue.

This year like every year we will believe our man the Brit Andy Murray will win it, when I say Brit I obviously mean Scottish but as his the Islands only hope he has been saddled with the Brit label  just like the other famous British tennis player we had around the Henman days the strange sounding “Greg Rusedski” he was the very American sounding guy who spoke and looked like he had been a victim of a hit and run road traffic accident to be fair he played like he had been in a road traffic accident, keeping true to form I last saw him dancing like he had been in a road traffic accident on “Come Dancing”.

Yes Andy Murray will capture the nation’s heart and then volley it into the ground at 120 m.p.h when he crashes out the tournament after round 3, it will piss down, Federer or other guy will win, Andy Murray will again be Scottish.   

Its Gods will!    

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K.I.T.T killed people Sunday, 19 June 2011

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David Hasselhoff can be considered lucky not because his sat on a judging panel of Britains Got Talent with what looks like the early onset of Alzheimer’s wondering where he is and why his there except to say "You rock man", No he escaped the evil clutches of  K.I.T.T. The Pontiac Firebird which could drive itself and caught the imagination of the American public in the early eighties which saw a surge in young men buying black Trans Am's  and tight leather jackets and then driving them into rockfaces trying to leap caverns, they failed to realize Michael Knight and K.I.T.T were fictional characters, it turns out that if you try to leap a moving train at speed in a regular Trans Am you disintegrate on impact, evidence suggests a spike in Trans Am sales and deaths involving the Trans Am around the time of  Knightrider’s popularity (fact)!    

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Embarrassing Bodies Idents Saturday, 18 June 2011

There’s a time and a place when its acceptable to see a fat woman with what looks like a large nut sack hanging over her 'Jack and Danny' but not late afternoon whilst ya munching on your coco pops, I don't want to hear that it bothers her that the ball bag makes a slapping noise when the hubby is banging her and I definitely don’t need to see it, is there nothing a man won't fuck, Im in the middle of a tense 'Deal or no Deal' and Channel 4 decide in their wisdom to treat me to image and backstory I could do without, I was a mere passenger for the rest of Deal or no Deal even the most hardened squaddie would have been numb with shock, lose some weight ya fat bitch!

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Christine Bleakley

Chrsitine Bleakley is going to marry chelsea charmer Frank Lampard, this is a poor mans royal wedding played out in front of the nation, its reported Christine cried for 10 minutes when he got the ring out she'll cry a lot longer when she reads in the paper his been fucking a bunch of slappers in a year or two, still at least it takes the attention away from Ryan Giggs right now whos not only wrestling with his conscience but his claw hammered brother, in Ryans defence I did see Imogen on 'Coach Trip' with best mate Bianca Gasgoigne they were so rightous when Ricky Groves and Alex Ferns flashed their willys in a german open bath it was enough to make you gag something both Imogen and Bianca have had much practise no doubt.       

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Celebrity Judges

For me Sharon Osbourne is only fit to judge how comfortable coffins are before a paid member of staff screws it tight and whisks it through a crematourium, you cant take a woman seriously if her face permanently looks like its in freefall.


Nigel Lythgoe ( So you think you can dance) makes me want to dance(moshing) but only on his lifeless body.


The only time I could ever take Piers Morgan seriously is if he fell in front of me clutching his heart moaning "Heartattack...Heartattack", I would then reach into my jeans and pull out little Kojack and urinate in his face, what a cock.  

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EastEnders has been assisting suicides for years.

Its illegal in this country, however its perfectly ok to pump out omnibus editions of EastEnders which must have assisted suicides across the land in its 25 years on the screen, its should come with a product placement symbol at the beginning perhaps someone fisting barbiturates into their mouths. 

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