If the last week has thought us anything, it’s that killer whales don’t make great pets, you wouldn’t like prime ministers when they’re angry and heterosexual couples are rubbish.
With Newcastle’s Queen finally exporting Cole, married footballers rutting like shell shocked soldiers on shore leave and the most boring couple in history Tess and Vernon barely surviving the dullest sex scandal in modern times ( I like ur T*ts cocker :)) it seems our only hope lies in the gays.
Elton John and David Furnish are the last proper celebrity romance still standing. I’m sick of reading about boring breeders and their petty problems, in this modern age of civil partnership isn’t time we had our first great gay sex scandal? If Elton ever,god forbid, cheated on Furnish the scandal would be such a glamorous, perfectly dressed, directed by Tom Ford, spectacular involving golden yachts, Venetian masked balls, a lost Egyptian prince and the entire cast of “Glee” that it would make Rebecca Loos and David Beckham’s affair as sexy as Frank Butcher and Pat getting frisky on Aldi gin.
Awed by its glittering magnificence and not a little turned on, Furnish would be forced to ruefully ruffle Elton’s wig and warn him never to do it again. Not for him being photographed sobbing in a tracksuit, it’d be lunch with Liz Hurley and a happy reunion before you could say “Let’s have Pamela Anderson over for vol au vents?” They’d then celebrate the whole scandal with a massive big party in the style of Louis the Sun King.
Speaking of divas, Lily Allen is threatening to quit pop stardom to open her own designer clothes rental shop. How will pop survive without its Samuel Pepys commentating on the urban issues of the day? Without her there’s only N-Dubz performing their West Side story style plays to give us advice on modern relationships. I really want to like Ms. Allen but could do without her limp wristed, shoulders hunched, waddle on stage as she doesn’t even try at being as successful as she is. “I guess I’ll perform at the Brits” she seems to shrug, “But it will delay me from my party with Alexa and your one from Popworld”. Compare her studied ambivalence with the eye boggling desperation of Lady Gaga and maybe she is better suited to needlework.
She has started a war of tweets with Courtney Love after the pair fell out over dresses for the Brits. Poor Courtney is not only turning into a Spitting Image puppet of herself but has lost custody of the daughter she had with Kurt Cobain. How rubbish of a mother do you have to be to lose custody of a teenager? Babies, toddlers, heck, who hasn’t accidently dropped one of those or left them on the bus but being such a mess your seventeen year old daughter is fed up of you takes some doing.
At least Kurt never had to see his Nancy Spungen become Joan Rivers. It’s always hard to watch your heroes wane but it’s downright twisted to see them reach their dotage and end up being patronised by Jeremy Clarkson. Nelson Mandela survived twenty seven years in prison but faced his toughest challenge yet when forced to make small talk with the Top Gear presenter. I think most of us would prefer breaking bad news to Winnie over that. Despite haven once written an article slamming the erection of a statute in his honour and comparing his revolutionary roots with Al Qaeda, the presenter gushed about meeting the former president. Hi s question to the ninety one year old Nobel Prize winner? Had he ever been to a lap dancing club? He’s crazy! I’m glad my taxes pay for those jeans! Maybe we should be glad if he didn’t ask if the end of apartheid was delayed by women drivers.
Mandela was apparently confused as to who Clarkson actually was and mistook him for an astronaut. Never mind, maybe they just couldn’t get “Top Gear” on Robbin Island. Be honest, which image is more painful- the idea that Mandela is losing his marbles or the gruesome alternative where he instantly recognised Clarkson, begged for a spot on “Top Gear” and ended up beating Jay K’s lap record? Me too and no, that doesn’t make you a “bad” person.
I think they should use Mandela’s confusion as inspiration for their next series. They could attempt to send Richard Hammond into space with hilarious consequences. It would be great, the bid could be launched at tax payers’ expense, Rich could suffer unnecessary, pointless brain injuries, waste NHS resources and fire services time, put his family through their worst nightmare and come out at the end a national hero, a top selling author and even more smugger than when he first attempted the selfish reckless immature stunt in the first place.
We’ve had monkeys in space, so why not a hamster?