Thursday, 14 May 2009

Dump the dick

Anger is a much misunderstood emotion, a thought the nation’s sweetheart (she won the title off Kylie Minougue on points) Cheryl Cole must be ruefully contemplating this week. While our Credit Crunch Cinderella bravely climbed Mount Kilamgajoru for charity her no good husband Ashley was snapped vacating a nightclub with a blonde and subsequently attacked the photographer for daring to record the event. In all the media coverage, reporters gleefully described the hell the Girls Aloud star was going to unleash on her bad boy husband. We were invited to relish the tongue lashing he was about to receive from the no nonsense Northerner and speculate at how long he was going to be in the doghouse now. Like an updated version of a seventies sitcom, he’ll get grief form her indoors and she stands by her man. It’s a sad message to send out to young girls; your boyfriend is someone you have to keep in line, put dutifully up with rather than a partner that treats you with respect. As for young men; cheating, lying, well that’s all an expected part of loveable male behaviour isn’t it? Cheryl isn’t a role model, she’s a doormat .Why on earth would a successful, young woman put up with a man who is evidentially a moron? Instead of fetishising the idea of a brave little beauty sticking by her fella, we should be shaking our heads in confusion at her odd behaviour. When deciding on my celebrity female role models I have strict criteria- could I imagine them crying in a nightclub toilet over a fella or not? Debbie Harry- definitely not, Jennifer Aniston- with out a question yes. Now Cheryl joins that sad sorry list. I haven’t worked out if this is before or after she she attacks the toilet assistant though…Speaking of emotional wrecks, we love our car crash blonds; Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, Princess Diana, we can’t get enough of them. A special place in our cynical little hearts however will forever belong to late First Lady of Reality TV herself Anna Nicole Smith. Her reality show “Totally Anna Nicole” was the first of its kind, following the former playmate’s daily battles with real life. How we laughed as confused, disorientated Anna munched her way through hey more junk food and seemed unable to speak, let alone function normally. Always at her side was her trusty, long suffering lawyer Howard K Stern, providing wry asides to the camera about whatever silly scrape the increasingly plus size model had got herself into. It’s an uncomfortable memory now it’s been revealed that the reason for Anna Nicole’s confusion was the galaxy of prescription drugs she was addicted to and the person supplying them all along was her trusty lawyer, beat friend and side kick Mr. Stern. In hindsight, his witty asides to the camera about her air headiness seem cruel at best, sinister at worst. Her son subsequently died of a drug overdose and Anna herself died the same way weeks later, leaving behind new born daughter and a bitter court case over the girl’s paternity and the millions she was set to inherit. Who briefly claimed to be the father, before DNA proved him to be a big fat liar? - Little Howard the lovable lawyer again. It’s a pity trailer trash Anna didn’t live long enough to sober up and see what a leaching cretin the university graduate was. Maybe instead of destroying herself with drugs and booze she would have woke up,got angry and kicked the waste of space out. There’s currently an opera in the pipelines about the former Playboy’s life, here’s hopening it returns some of the dignity robbed from her in life.This being a showbiz column of sorts, whenever anyone even mentions the word politics my eyes glaze over and I wonder what Paris Hilton is doing at this exact moment in time, but we couldn’t help but be amused by recent shenagans in Dublin this week. Oil paintings of An Taoiseach Brian Cowen, Captain Smith to the economies Titanic, mysteriously appeared in the capital’s art galleries. Nothing exciting about that except for the fact that one of them featured Mr. Cowen in the nude and the second featured the nation’s premier on the toilet. RTE was forced to issue an apology after broadcasting images of the offending artworks- wither for offending the man himself or for the trauma inflicted on the public wasn’t specified. Poor Brian, he’s no Obama, aesthetically or politically This comes after it was announced that the much missed radio satire “Scrap Saturday” the programme that launched the career of the even more missed Dermot Morgan, is to return to the airwaves in the form of “The Emergency” on Talk Radio. If there’s anything the country needs now, its intelligent satire. Up until recently, most Irish satire consisted of slagging off Bertie Ahern’s anoraks all as he was *allegedly* fleecing the country. Collapsing economy, empty banks and rising taxes, welcome back grown up satire, because as we learnt this week, sometimes it’s good to be angry.

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