Wednesday, 9 December 2009

The Prime of Miss Louis Walsh

In the most improbable car accident since Princess Diana, Tiger Woods, previously the most reliable star of the world’s most boring sport, smashed his slow moving car into a tree in his own driveway. It quickly emerged that rather than rushing to rescue him, it was his wife’s discovery of his pathological inability to keep his own clubs in his caddy that propelled her to attack his back windscreen with a ten iron. Since then a veritable tsunami of cocktail waitresses, porn stars and reality TV contestants have washed up on the tabloids front pages all claiming to have had private swings with the US Open champion. News stations in the US have even been forced to create phone lines at the end of reports for women who think might have slept with the golf sex machine. Blessed with a gorgeous wife and a beautiful family, people are stunned that he would risk everything for a few shots in the rough.

It was his all American image that attracted the lucrative sponsorship contracts and advertising deals that had him on course to becoming sports first billionaire. How on earth did a man trained obsessively at a competitive sport since childhood, drilled to be ambitious, selfish and single minded and assured that he was the greatest in the entire world, turn out to be a be so bad at personal relationships? His mother assured him that he was wonderful and his Dad declared that he would not only be the best golfer the world had ever seem but probably the best human being ever and yet he still turned out to have the morals of a bank overdraft fine? Incredible.

His poor social skills became stuff of golf legend, with tales of his bad language, abrasive behaviour and general rudeness became notorious. Still as he smiles at his loyal wife over breakfast as her morning croissant flakes over fresh new stories of his wandering irons, I bet Elen blocks out the rising screams in her heads by repeating “but he’s very good at hitting little balls into across big fields, he’s very good at hitting little balls across big fields”

Meanwhile enjoying some bittersweet schaden freud with a double shot of vodka is Jo Wood after reports that her ex Ronnie was arrested for beating up the teenage girlfriend Ekatrina Ivanovc that he left her for. Neighbours were woken by the couple’s screams before witnessing the Rolling Stone attempt to strangle the tiny blonde and part drag her down the street. Ekaterina is not pressing charges and although she has moved out of their mansion is reportedly desperate to win back the aging rocker.

Meanwhile Jo is happier than ever. After years of marriage her new single social life has doubled her friends and for the first time, she incredulously revealed in an interview the only person she has to worry about is herself.
Maybe Jo needs to sit down and have a quiet word with Amy Whinehouse. The newly revitalised singer, sporting a fantastic new pair of breasts seems to be using her new found confidence to win back her ex- husband Blake Fielder- Civil.

This is the same man who recently finished a spell for GBH and attempting to pervert the course of justice, a sentence he seasoned with a short stint in rehab for his heroin addiction, the drug he introduced to Whinehouse with such brilliant results, the same man that broke her heart so badly she penned her break through record, Back to Black and wrote some of the greatest descriptions of the unflinching exquisite agony of heartbreak. And yet and yet, call me a romantic but wouldn’t it be great if they could make it work? If their raggle taggle, can’t live without you, if I live with you we’ll probably overdose and die, rollercoaster settled down into boring old happiness. It’s that insane hope that created the great art that Amy’s adored for and probably of the misery that’s made her infamous too.

That’s why there a lot to be said for every woman having her special friend, you know, a confirmed bachelor, the sort of man you wouldn’t mind getting changed in front of. Every girl needs her own Louis Walsh. He is the unsung hero of the X Factor, the one that takes himself the least seriously, who doesn’t mind making an idiot of himself because he realises how ridiculous the show is and how lucky he is to be there. This is the same man that spent most of the eighties touring the midlands with Johnnie Logan, who could begrudge him a bit of glamour at this hour in his life? Louis seems to be looking much fresher lately with rumours of a few nips and tucks here and there.

I’m saluting this late spring for little Mr. Walsh, may his prime be long and happy. Maybe, he and Jo could get together and have a double wedding with Blake and Amy? As Tiger Woods have showed us; stranger things have happened...

No comments:

Post a Comment