Let me be the next lazy commentator to jump on the bandwagon and slag off superhot vixen Samantha Brick for her hilariously short-sighted article about how hard it is being fit.
The basic premise of her article in the Daily Mail (don't worry - I only go there to look at pictures of The Saturdays in hotpants) was that women hate her because she's beautiful. Cue reams of photographs of a not-unattractive-but-you-wouldn't-look-twice-if-you-passed-her-in-the-street blonde lady in various fashionable togs, book-ended by a wailing diatribe about how she can't help being beautiful and women hate her and she's never been a bridesmaid and it's all someone's fault.
Now, I don't know this woman other than this article and I suppose it's possible that based on her experiences, she believes her looks have caused hatred from other women, but if you don't see the folly in moaning about such occurrences in the national press, maybe it's your attitude that is making people think you're an arse. I've never been the sort of person to judge someone's character based on their physical appearance, and I view the myriad responses calling her a dog and what have you to be a cheap shot, but based on the content of her article, it does appear she lives in some kind of parallel universe where everything bad that happens to her is because she's supposedly mint.
She says she's lost friends because of it, and only yesterday a female neighbour ignored her wave when she passed in a car. Ignoring the fact that she might have been concentrating on the road, has she stopped to think why people stop talking to her? What happens when she's late for work, or her car breaks down? "Is it cos I is fit?" is presumably her stock response.
The level of vitriol and sarcasm generated by her article is ludicrous, and the Twittersphere (yep, that's what we're calling it these days) was inundated with every Tom, Dick and Duncan Bannatyne having their say. The gist of their comments refer to how up herself she is and that April Fool's Day has already passed this year. It does smack of bullying as people gang up on her for stating her beliefs, but she's well and truly shot any positive PR in the foot by writing a follow-up article today basically saying "Told yer - bitches be crazy". She is genuinely claiming that the abuse she's suffered as a result of her article proves she's right, and that "no one in this world is more reviled than a pretty woman". Yeah, that's why everyone's laughing at you and calling you names - not because you're so up yourself you can see the back of your own head.
Honestly, she gives us genuinely attractive people a bad name. Don't hate me - God just likes me more than you...
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Charity: Time well spent?
Before we get going, let me make it abundantly clear that I have nothing against charities or those who do charitable deeds. I know several people who support very worthy causes every day and help raise funds and awareness for all manner of plights. They are not the target of my ire.
However...
Is it really necessary for every donation we make to be embellished by someone putting themselves through physical and sartorial torture just so we feel obliged to stump up?
A friend recently opined that there is no need for 'celebrities' to run the length of the British Isles or swim the Thames for our money, and that the important thing is the money is donated in the first place. I wholeheartedly agree with this, although I understand how showing a stadium comedian looking tired (with obligatory Coldplay soundtrack) is often required to tug at the purse strings and get us tightwads to part with our hard-earned cash IN THESE TIMES OF AUSTERITY.
However, on a local scale, I don't see why we can't have a whip-round and send in a cheque. We're busy people; we've got lives to lead and skin colours to judge; surely we can't be arsing around doing a 3-day Wii Bowling tournament or 24-hour cardioathon at a local gymnasium.
What's that? We can? Oh, right.
Like I said, I'm all for stumping up to pay for a new wheelchair or what have you, but do I really have to piss about on a treadmill for an hour while my colleagues shout slogans at me? Can't you just have the fiver and I can get on with my life? I don't want to wear matching T-shirts or be part of a poorly-named team or be in the local rag. I just want to put the kettle on and light a massive cigar.
Having said that, if one day I need to buy a new kettle or one of those things to snip the end off the aforementioned cigar, it would only be right that John Bishop pogoed across Britain's suspension bridges to raise the necessary awareness and funds. We all know he's got nothing better to do.
However...
Is it really necessary for every donation we make to be embellished by someone putting themselves through physical and sartorial torture just so we feel obliged to stump up?
A friend recently opined that there is no need for 'celebrities' to run the length of the British Isles or swim the Thames for our money, and that the important thing is the money is donated in the first place. I wholeheartedly agree with this, although I understand how showing a stadium comedian looking tired (with obligatory Coldplay soundtrack) is often required to tug at the purse strings and get us tightwads to part with our hard-earned cash IN THESE TIMES OF AUSTERITY.
However, on a local scale, I don't see why we can't have a whip-round and send in a cheque. We're busy people; we've got lives to lead and skin colours to judge; surely we can't be arsing around doing a 3-day Wii Bowling tournament or 24-hour cardioathon at a local gymnasium.
What's that? We can? Oh, right.
Like I said, I'm all for stumping up to pay for a new wheelchair or what have you, but do I really have to piss about on a treadmill for an hour while my colleagues shout slogans at me? Can't you just have the fiver and I can get on with my life? I don't want to wear matching T-shirts or be part of a poorly-named team or be in the local rag. I just want to put the kettle on and light a massive cigar.
Having said that, if one day I need to buy a new kettle or one of those things to snip the end off the aforementioned cigar, it would only be right that John Bishop pogoed across Britain's suspension bridges to raise the necessary awareness and funds. We all know he's got nothing better to do.
Monday, 20 February 2012
The camera tripod: Boxing's answer to the folding steel chair
You know what British boxing needed? It needed two of its key protagonists to get into a playground-style ruck involving beer bottles and camera tripods in a foreign country. Only then would the rest of the world realise that we're a serious contender and not to messed with. Either that or we're a bunch of dickheads.
As you're probably aware, Derick Chisora narrowly lost his fight with Vitali Klitschko on Saturday night and went some way to repairing his reputation as a tit-end. He'd spent the run-up to the fight slapping and spitting any Russians put in front of him, but his efforts in the ring actually afforded him some respect. Alas, that went tits up when David "Mind me toe" Haye rocked up at the back of the post-scrap press conference and started yelling all manner of clumsy offence, focussing heavily on Chisora's recent record of defeats. Chisora decided this was uncalled for and went to the back to confront him, and - not to put too fine a point on it - the shit hit the fan.
Despite both being professional pugilists, only one punch of note was landed, and even that looked more like a drunk bird hitting her boyfriend with a Bacardi Breezer. All manner of cameras were in attendance so we've been afforded every conceivable angle of the action, culminating in Haye slinging a camera tripod at his opponent (as you do), but only succeeding in hitting his own trainer who ended up bleeding and looking very furious indeed.
Haye subsequently legged it and checked out of his hotel (as we speak is still at large somewhere in Germany) while Chisora thought the best way to calm the situation down was to declare that he would 'shoot' and 'burn' David Haye. If Haye now ends up shot and/or burnt, you can't say he hadn't been warned.
I'm not what you'd call a boxing fan, but even I'm embarrassed by the antics of these two muscle-bound buffoons. I was brought up to respect other people's possessions and to behave when in a foreign country, but these two uber-berks think throwing their weight and photographic equipment about is an acceptable way to conduct themselves on foreign soil. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a clumsy PR stunt to drum up interest in a real fight between these two, but surely they could have done it in a more suitable venue. Like, oh I don't know, a boxing ring?
As you're probably aware, Derick Chisora narrowly lost his fight with Vitali Klitschko on Saturday night and went some way to repairing his reputation as a tit-end. He'd spent the run-up to the fight slapping and spitting any Russians put in front of him, but his efforts in the ring actually afforded him some respect. Alas, that went tits up when David "Mind me toe" Haye rocked up at the back of the post-scrap press conference and started yelling all manner of clumsy offence, focussing heavily on Chisora's recent record of defeats. Chisora decided this was uncalled for and went to the back to confront him, and - not to put too fine a point on it - the shit hit the fan.
Despite both being professional pugilists, only one punch of note was landed, and even that looked more like a drunk bird hitting her boyfriend with a Bacardi Breezer. All manner of cameras were in attendance so we've been afforded every conceivable angle of the action, culminating in Haye slinging a camera tripod at his opponent (as you do), but only succeeding in hitting his own trainer who ended up bleeding and looking very furious indeed.
Haye subsequently legged it and checked out of his hotel (as we speak is still at large somewhere in Germany) while Chisora thought the best way to calm the situation down was to declare that he would 'shoot' and 'burn' David Haye. If Haye now ends up shot and/or burnt, you can't say he hadn't been warned.
I'm not what you'd call a boxing fan, but even I'm embarrassed by the antics of these two muscle-bound buffoons. I was brought up to respect other people's possessions and to behave when in a foreign country, but these two uber-berks think throwing their weight and photographic equipment about is an acceptable way to conduct themselves on foreign soil. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a clumsy PR stunt to drum up interest in a real fight between these two, but surely they could have done it in a more suitable venue. Like, oh I don't know, a boxing ring?
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Showboating: Ironic
We all know bigheads. Those people who think they're brilliant and act like Charlie Big Potatoes, strutting around in their white sneakers and large-peaked cap, using words like 'Dench' and 'Bo'
like they're going out of fashion.
Despite the epic douchebaggery of these people, in the main they're doing us no harm. Indeed, such people often reinforce the positive impression one has about oneself, leading us to opine "Well, it could be worse. I could be that large-hatted twat" or similar.
However, when a member of the arrogantista is in charge of a fuck-off cruise liner, that's the very definition of a recipe for disaster.
Step forward Francesco "Look, there's Guiseppe. Get closer so I can say hello" Schettino, the captain of the semi-submerged Costa Concordia. He was the skipper of the CC when he decided that maritime protocol was girl's stuff, and opted to sail past an Italian island close enough to salute one of his mates and ultimately show off. Alas, his antics led to his ship running aground, taking on water and ultimately succumbing to what shipping experts call 'sinking'.
The fall-out is pretty intense. Confirmed fatalities are into double figures as divers continue to scour the wreckage for survivors and/or bodies, while the ship's owners wasted no time in blaming Schettino for deviating off course and generally arsing about with 4,000 people's lives. He was promptly arrested and a leaked account of his interview confirms that he did in fact do a bit of detour to shout 'Bonjourno' to a friend. As you do.
This is where his arrogance goes into overdrive. In the interview, he quite spectacularly insisted that had it not been for his quick-thinking after hitting the rocks, many more lives would have been lost. You've got to have some seriously big bollocks to claim that rectifying your own stupidity is worthy of credit. This coming from a man who ended up on the receiving end of a monumental bollocking from the coastguard for abandoning ship before the passengers, while he protested that he had been catapulted off (presumably via inertia rather than some kind of elastic contraption) and couldn't get back on.
As you might imagine, there's very little chance he's going to get away with this. I presume his sailing licence has been ripped up and he's had to return his big white hat, and he can kiss goodbye to his freedom, let alone his future sea captaincy. You can't argue that he doesn't deserve it either, and hopefully this will send a message to other sailspeople who fancy demonstrating their high level of self-confidence in the future:
The sea is a cruel mistress, but rocks will fuck your ship right up.
like they're going out of fashion.
Despite the epic douchebaggery of these people, in the main they're doing us no harm. Indeed, such people often reinforce the positive impression one has about oneself, leading us to opine "Well, it could be worse. I could be that large-hatted twat" or similar.
However, when a member of the arrogantista is in charge of a fuck-off cruise liner, that's the very definition of a recipe for disaster.
Step forward Francesco "Look, there's Guiseppe. Get closer so I can say hello" Schettino, the captain of the semi-submerged Costa Concordia. He was the skipper of the CC when he decided that maritime protocol was girl's stuff, and opted to sail past an Italian island close enough to salute one of his mates and ultimately show off. Alas, his antics led to his ship running aground, taking on water and ultimately succumbing to what shipping experts call 'sinking'.
The fall-out is pretty intense. Confirmed fatalities are into double figures as divers continue to scour the wreckage for survivors and/or bodies, while the ship's owners wasted no time in blaming Schettino for deviating off course and generally arsing about with 4,000 people's lives. He was promptly arrested and a leaked account of his interview confirms that he did in fact do a bit of detour to shout 'Bonjourno' to a friend. As you do.
This is where his arrogance goes into overdrive. In the interview, he quite spectacularly insisted that had it not been for his quick-thinking after hitting the rocks, many more lives would have been lost. You've got to have some seriously big bollocks to claim that rectifying your own stupidity is worthy of credit. This coming from a man who ended up on the receiving end of a monumental bollocking from the coastguard for abandoning ship before the passengers, while he protested that he had been catapulted off (presumably via inertia rather than some kind of elastic contraption) and couldn't get back on.
As you might imagine, there's very little chance he's going to get away with this. I presume his sailing licence has been ripped up and he's had to return his big white hat, and he can kiss goodbye to his freedom, let alone his future sea captaincy. You can't argue that he doesn't deserve it either, and hopefully this will send a message to other sailspeople who fancy demonstrating their high level of self-confidence in the future:
The sea is a cruel mistress, but rocks will fuck your ship right up.
Friday, 13 January 2012
"They did it on purpose, Lynne"
There are plenty of words you can use to describe the urinating actions of the US soldiers on Taliban corpses. Abhorrent, disgusting, despicable, erotic. Well, not so much erotic.
I'm sure you've seen the story by now, but basically, some army whistle blower has released video footage of a bunch of American soldiers 'getting caught short' all over a row of dead Taliban fighters. Despite the inhuman nature of their antics, there's a definite air of positivity within the footage, with one even squeaking 'have a good day, buddy', as if that's possible after everything that's happened to them.
What I find ironic is these lads were sent over there to restore peace to the area, and after putting their lives on the line to do so, they think that stirring the shit up by doing this is the best way to progress. Fortunately, the Taliban leaders who have begun talks with the Yanks about calming the whole "Well they started it" caboodle down have said that this footage won't affect the progress they're trying to make in brokering peace, which is a bloody good job really. Let's face it; they've every right to kick off and start scrapping again, and who could blame them? If footage was leaked (arf) of the Taliban doing that to US corpses all hell would break loose.
Perhaps most stupid (or brazen, depending on your outlook) is the fact that they allowed their faces to be shown on the video. Surely they must have realised that if this footage ever ended up in the wrong hands, their asses would be grass in no time? As we speak the government has already said they've identified the battalion and a couple of the participants, I fully expect the noisiest of noise to be brought by the military now, not least to show that they're not going to stand for this kind of mucking about when there's peace in the offing.
I have no doubt that this kind of activity takes place on both sides during the fog of war. Andy McNab was very descriptive about what he was made to do by his captors, for example. I'd be amazed if more urine or licking-your-own-shit-off-your-fingers action wasn't happening off-camera, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable. There are plenty of underground clubs that cater for this kind of 'erotic niche' the world over, so my advice would be to do it in a toilet until you get home. Or at the very least cover your face, you dolt.
I'm sure you've seen the story by now, but basically, some army whistle blower has released video footage of a bunch of American soldiers 'getting caught short' all over a row of dead Taliban fighters. Despite the inhuman nature of their antics, there's a definite air of positivity within the footage, with one even squeaking 'have a good day, buddy', as if that's possible after everything that's happened to them.
What I find ironic is these lads were sent over there to restore peace to the area, and after putting their lives on the line to do so, they think that stirring the shit up by doing this is the best way to progress. Fortunately, the Taliban leaders who have begun talks with the Yanks about calming the whole "Well they started it" caboodle down have said that this footage won't affect the progress they're trying to make in brokering peace, which is a bloody good job really. Let's face it; they've every right to kick off and start scrapping again, and who could blame them? If footage was leaked (arf) of the Taliban doing that to US corpses all hell would break loose.
Perhaps most stupid (or brazen, depending on your outlook) is the fact that they allowed their faces to be shown on the video. Surely they must have realised that if this footage ever ended up in the wrong hands, their asses would be grass in no time? As we speak the government has already said they've identified the battalion and a couple of the participants, I fully expect the noisiest of noise to be brought by the military now, not least to show that they're not going to stand for this kind of mucking about when there's peace in the offing.
I have no doubt that this kind of activity takes place on both sides during the fog of war. Andy McNab was very descriptive about what he was made to do by his captors, for example. I'd be amazed if more urine or licking-your-own-shit-off-your-fingers action wasn't happening off-camera, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable. There are plenty of underground clubs that cater for this kind of 'erotic niche' the world over, so my advice would be to do it in a toilet until you get home. Or at the very least cover your face, you dolt.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Anthony Worrall Tealeaf more like
Shoplifting. The old five-finger discount. Reserve of the social underclass and confused soap opera teenagers, right?
Er, wrong, actually. Know it all.
Miniature double-barrelled pan-jockey Anthony Worrall Thompson is the latest 'celebrity' to be caught half-inching goods, in this case from Tescos. This high-drama caper began last month, when he was seen using the self-service checkouts to his advantage by bagging stuff he hadn't paid for. Apparently he did it five times under surveillance before security hauled him in for questioning. He was subsequently cautioned by the Feds and the bleating has gone into overdrive.
You may recall a previous e-rant regarding people being caught having affairs and what have you, but rather than admitting they enjoyed the trappings of their adulterousness (it's a word, don't bother looking it up), they instead went all doe-eyed and wailed how they were in a dark place and needed help, etc. In all likelihood they would have carried on shagging their pneumatic backing dancers forever if they hadn't been caught, but saying "I was enjoying that, spoilsport" sends a negative message which may affect future album sales.
Anyway, AWT has decided that 5 was exactly the right number of thefts to commit to realise it was wrong, and has gone on record about how he has let his family down and he needs professional help. Yeah, cos you've been harbouring these demons for 60 years, and they've suddenly wrestled control of your psyche and made you steal onions? Put a sock in it, beardy. If he did it once in a moment of sheer madness, maybe, but repeatedly highlights not that he needs help, but that he's a tight twat who was trying to keep his shopping bill down. Understandable during these times of austerity, but surely nothing a quick book launch couldn't have fixed.
At the end of the day, it's hard to argue that his celebrity status hasn't saved him from the big house. Behooded hoodlums were banged up for far less after last year's riots so it hardly seems fair that he gets away with it. I very much doubt he employed Basic Instinct-like behaviours to flash his minge at the cops, but then I wasn't there so I don't know. Either way, I hope you're not thinking about what that might look like. That would be awful.
Er, wrong, actually. Know it all.
Miniature double-barrelled pan-jockey Anthony Worrall Thompson is the latest 'celebrity' to be caught half-inching goods, in this case from Tescos. This high-drama caper began last month, when he was seen using the self-service checkouts to his advantage by bagging stuff he hadn't paid for. Apparently he did it five times under surveillance before security hauled him in for questioning. He was subsequently cautioned by the Feds and the bleating has gone into overdrive.
You may recall a previous e-rant regarding people being caught having affairs and what have you, but rather than admitting they enjoyed the trappings of their adulterousness (it's a word, don't bother looking it up), they instead went all doe-eyed and wailed how they were in a dark place and needed help, etc. In all likelihood they would have carried on shagging their pneumatic backing dancers forever if they hadn't been caught, but saying "I was enjoying that, spoilsport" sends a negative message which may affect future album sales.
Anyway, AWT has decided that 5 was exactly the right number of thefts to commit to realise it was wrong, and has gone on record about how he has let his family down and he needs professional help. Yeah, cos you've been harbouring these demons for 60 years, and they've suddenly wrestled control of your psyche and made you steal onions? Put a sock in it, beardy. If he did it once in a moment of sheer madness, maybe, but repeatedly highlights not that he needs help, but that he's a tight twat who was trying to keep his shopping bill down. Understandable during these times of austerity, but surely nothing a quick book launch couldn't have fixed.
At the end of the day, it's hard to argue that his celebrity status hasn't saved him from the big house. Behooded hoodlums were banged up for far less after last year's riots so it hardly seems fair that he gets away with it. I very much doubt he employed Basic Instinct-like behaviours to flash his minge at the cops, but then I wasn't there so I don't know. Either way, I hope you're not thinking about what that might look like. That would be awful.
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