Category Archives: Celebrity

a shoe drops in Vancouver

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Now I know why I've been on a Tina Brown fixation Tina Brown Hairdothe past couple of days. It's worrisome, it can't be healthy, and it'll probably result in an unfortunately feathered hairdo if it goes on too long.

Yep, now I know exactly what my brain was trying to tell me. It's true what some of the mellower religious figures say. All things do come to those who wait, if by things you mean things like memories. And a fair few other things come to those who simply interview.

When [20-year-old] Tina took up with Harold Matthew Evans — forty-six at the time and married, with three children — she was selecting for herself one of the most remarkable, successful, and attractive men in all of Britain, and very likely one of the most vulnerable as well.

Hmmm, where's my damn phone? I gots calls to make.George Headphones

"Why, hello there George!"

We have absolutely no comment

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although we imagine that one or two of you might be able to think of one.

Batman Squirt Gun

Media Madness!!!!!

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TIAWhat's next? First I'm quoted in the Daily Mirror (the MIRROR, ffs y'all; I don't even live in the UK!) so far out of context my snippet needs its own passport.*

Tina Fucking BrownNow, Tina Brown, Tina Fucking Brown, files a report about witnessing first-hand the lesbian crack orgies of a strung-out former gospel singer. Tina also spends a great deal of time running around the house picking up the skanktastic used sex toys of the so-called "power dyke." I guess when you got OCD you got OCD, eh? Word to the wise: Wellbutrin.

Paying Tina Brown a reported $200,000 was well worth every penny!

Tina Brown says that it's common knowledge…that Whitney has affairs with women.

[The strung-out former gospel star's] appetite to pleasure her pussy is so powerful that she has a massive collection of sex toys…

"They are all around the damn house," says Tina. "I'm constantly having to get them up. I don't want the kids to find them."

No indeed! What would happen to little George Frederick's future and peace of mind, should he stumble upon a lube-encrusted, vrroooooooming Purple Pussy Popper?

Si, where are you when she needs you? O, how the mighty have fallen. I bet she's sorry she ever left Vanity Fair.

Startups are not for kids

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Operation Global Media Domination: Egg Day

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TIADon’t ask me why. Blog works in mysterious ways. But today, if you’ll just scroll down and see, is Egg Day. If you’re feeling generous, you can even include the post from yesterday about the trichinosis worms (I mean, it’s the eggs that getcha, right? and there were millions of the wee buggers, so that’s gotta count for at least one, right?).

But it’s a sure bet that Egg Day is not gonna rock the same hits as Gay Pirate Day.

Yesterday we welcomed many, many intellectuals to our blog; for one thing, they loved to hate on the Margaret Atwood. For another, their searches included Nobel Prize winners, Geoffrey Chaucer, the New Testament, and a poignant question about whether or not The Scorpions still count as celebrities.

No.

On the other hand, today they’re back looking for that elusive Narnia Porn. Other searched-for items included free porn movies of nutty sex yelling sex porn SOMALI SEX MOVIE somali porn movies aslan porn. And Mitsou, but that’s hardly an improvement. So here, for all you pervy, unsatisfied, yet counted-on-an-equal-basis-with-Ernest-Hemingway-scholar fetishists, we present your Narnia fix:

Narnia

Some days it’s not worth chewing through the straps

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Boris in Chains

It appears there are some people who are having an even worse week than me, and I've just been given my ninth (or is it tenth) eviction notice from the Co-op. They're not being very cooperative, I must say. But enough about my week.

As I said, looks like some people are having an even shittier week than me although it is certainly true that if the gutter press were as guttacious as they've been made out to be they'd be camped out on the front lawn oh yeah, they don't have those things in Islington, the front uh stoop? begging for a quote from the children and bribing the household pets with bacon bits.

It is therefore in the spirit of taking up arms against weeks which are both shitaceous and whoreanus that I present the following mindless Internet game. It should cheer at least one person up to know that Boris Johnson has attained the rarified altitudes inhabited by the seraphim and Kevin Bacon and gotten his own game. So to speak. The associated t-shirts are pure graphic gold, icons of both t-ness and shirt-ness that should be copied for generations hence. The Ice Cream of Truth is a symbol that all but the lactose-intolerant can support (and they shouldn't have any rights anyway) and the sound effects are pure sweetness. Ladies and gentlemen:

Big Ben Boris

Vote Boris! Just because you can't