How's it hangin? Me, I'm totally cheesed off right now. My feller's abroad on business in Dubai. No more nookie for a week or two. What a pisser. He'd better behave hisself mind. He reckons there's some tasty high-class whores over there, they don't all look and smell like camels and wear them black sheets. If I smell any Arab twat on him I'll wring his fucken neck.
Still, could be worse. I could be that tosser Stephen Fry. Who the fuck does he think he is then? The fat nance. When he isn't talkin shite with his twatty mates on QI, or tweetin arsey bollocks on twitter to his snotty bum chums in Kensington, he comes out with wank like this about women:
"...sex is the price they are willing to pay for a relationship with a man, which is what they want. Of course, a lot of women will deny this, and say 'Oh no, but I love sex, I love it!' But do they go around having it the way that gay men do?"
Pardon me, Steve, but since when did you know fuck all about what a woman does? Did you read Lady Chatterley's Lover while they were shaggin you up the fat arse at your posh schools?
No, Stevie-babe, we women don't go around havin' it the way gay men do. We don't dress in Village People gear and ponce about in parades, we don't hang about the bogs on Hampstead Heath waitin to suck some other perve's stinky dick, we don't take it up the flabby shitter from upper class poofters like you.
Real women have real men and real lives Mr Batty Boy Fry. Get a life Fry, you lardy nonce.
Talkin about Lords of The Rings, I was chewin the fat with me mate Suze at Costa's in the week. She reckons that James Nesbitt is gonna play a dwarf in the new Hobbit movie. Suze loves Lord of The Rings. Well, her new boyfriend does anyway. It won't last, poor cow, once he gets fed up of shaggin her it'll be good night Vienna. But will she listen? Will she fuck. She's too much of a thick slapper. A right brain-dead bimbo, if we're bein honest.
But this James Nesbitt, eh? What an arsehole. Face like a bulldog lickin piss off a nettle. A Mick as well. They're all full of shite. Conmen and gobshites.
I reckon this is his best part yet. A friggin dwarf goblin that lives underground. Pity he couldn't just stop underground and spare us the sight of his pug-ugly goggle-eyed mug.
What was that show called that he was in? Cold Feet? Where he stood in the street naked with a flower stuck up his aris and serenaded that thick posh bint that looks like a bloke in drag. Yeah, Cold Feet. God, that put me off chicken for a month. Suze says he's a hunk. Fuck me pink, I'd rather be humped by a fucken dead walrus than that conceited little prick.
Jules just texted me about that stuck-up little piece Emma Watson bein on the cover of Vogue. I'm like - so fucken what? That tight-arsed little bitch really thinks she's it. Do we really need her skinny schoolgirl mug gawpin at us from the cover of feckin Vogue now?
Let's cut to the chase here. Emma's only big news 'cos she looks like a bit of under-age cunt and that's what most men want. Unless they're Stephen Fry and his arse-bandit gang. She looks like a randy schoolgirl. A cock-teaser. Jailbait. Need I go on?
She's sat there on Vogue like the cat that has got the fuckin cream. No wonder. She's worth millions. And all for bein in a load of shitty kids' movies. Fuck's sake.
She's sat there on Vogue in somethink that looks like what it is made of my gran's curtains wrapped round her scrawny neck, with a look on her mush like she has got a cucumber stuck in her tight little arse and it wasn't from an accident whilst whippin up a quick salad.
Here's some of Emma's words to the wise:
"By the third or fourth film, the money was starting to get serious. I had no idea. I felt sick, very emotional." Me too, baby, me too.
And there's more:
"For the nine years I was on Harry Potter I was contractually obliged not to cut my hair, not to tan. All the normal things girls do, I couldn't. So when I got the chance to change my appearance this is what I did." Excuse me, but isn't this real Brain of Britain stuff? I think we should put this chick in charge of the country she is so full of genius thoughts. Move over, Florence Nightingale and Mrs Pankhurst, here is a real heroine for women. What a prize fucken turkey.
And finally, peeps, as we are on the subject of prize turkeys, how about that pantomime goose Nadine Coyle then? I hear from my old pal Lydia that Nadine wants to be like Nigella Lawson.
Right on, babe. You go for it. Be a sweaty blubber matron that makes old men dribble. Go Nadine! Eat like a bloody horse. Turn into a frumpy heap. Way to go.
"I've always wanted to cook since I was no age at all. I'd cook up a storm from the age of 11. I'd roast peppers and stuff them with stuff. And I just got more and more into it and then I got the restaurants and got even more into it.
"I would love to do some kind of thing, just for people that are busy and you can just throw stuff together."
Just listen to the daft bint. Mind you, they might have not heard her properly. Where does she get that accent from? It's like an Irish donkey crossed with Dolly fucken Parton. Bugger me clinkers, as my Grandad used to say.
The soft cow has issues which is basically that she thinks that she is too skinny. "I'll be like, 'Oh my God, I look really skinny in that,' or 'Oh, God, look at my chin in that.' I think I'm my own worst critic." Oh, don't worry about that, love, you're no fuckin where near your worst critic. I mean, Nadine, yeah, why not chuck up bein a fuckin sex symbol and singer and turn into your own fuckin grandmother and roast peppers and stuff them with fuckin stuff and turn into one of them hideous old Mick women boilin potatoes in a fuckin cauldron like a hideous old witch.
Get a grip you silly tart. Who's lookin at your fuckin chin anyway?
Right peeps, that's about it for this week. Brenda's got to split. I've got an appointment with a gorgeous hair stylist called Roberto.
Keep slaggin the celebs peeps!