Geldof's daughters all on skag

Written by queen mudder

Thursday, 6 March 2008

image for Geldof's daughters all on skag
Oncen they were nubile goddesses...before crack cocaine, heroin, alcohol and whopping great big tubs of ice cream got to them

London - (Reuters): Bob Geldof's daughters are all junkies according to a Pullitzer-nominated exclusive expose in the April edition of LA FagHagSlagMag.

The news has stunned London party goers who have bought the official Geldof line that his progeny by ex-junkie Paula Yates are all novitiates at the local Carmelite nunnery in Chelsea.

However a three month covert campaign by the magazine's London editor Dave Lurid has found that all three pointless wannabe celeb slappers are on the fairy-dust circuit funded by whopping great big trust fund hand-outs from their Pa's offshore bank accounts in Bogota.

The eldest Geldof, twenty four year-old Fifi Trixibelle, is a bloated 22 stone lardarse who shoots up smack in between downing five litre vats of ice cream and 2 litre 'fun size' bottles of Bailey's Irish.

Her job at Matthew Frued's PR firm Fraud Communications is a grace and favor sinecure secured by a gagging clause about the heroin death of her late mother Paula Yates.

Nineteen year-old Peaches Honeyblossom's first foray into smoking crack occurred five years ago, roughly the same time when she decided to become a Goth. Her trademark deathly pallor became a little yellow of late after getting accidentally locked up overnight in an organic smoked salmon fumiere on the Isle of Wight.

Meanwhile seventeen year-old Pixie Frou-Frou recently became a Scientology convert after her first blow job from local Chelsea smack dealer Osmond Cratcherqvist.

The weedy-looking peroxide little stick insect has the facial expression of an emaciated Uncle Fester about her which she somehow managed to combine with the gait of a young Bela Lugosi, just before he contracted tertiary syphilis.

All three Geldofettes are currently A-List celebs on the London party list, mostly because it's a time of such dire talent drought that any old hairy-arsed trustafarian junkie can get her pic in the celeb rags.

Jemima Khan sleeps with a .22 under her pillow.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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