Disgusting people celebrate ‘reading while sitting on the bog’ when, let’s face it, it’s wholly repugnant.
On the latest instalment of I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here Gillian McKeith fainted at the prospect of another bushtucker trial. I find this scarcely believable. This is a woman who spends of a lot of her time prodding other people’s shit.
While it was clear he was found wanting as a communicator, there was no denying his abilities in the arena of violence and self-defence and that alone proved attractive.
This expression is used to promote acts as unique, but is the sound of Michael Bublé unmistakable? Not really, he’s just another ruddy modern-day jazz act with an array of underwhelming tunes that sound nice when Toby and Vanessa come round for fajitas. Then there’s the ‘unmistakable’ sound of Paulo Nutini, who sounds pretty much like James Morrison, James Blunt and anyone else called James who plays guitar. What about Newton Faulkner then? Well, he’s just hairier version of Damien Rice with tunes of such outstanding mediocrity and blandness that only a contract with Schindler’s lifts can fully understand. What is…
If you believe that Kate’s classic Shit Song is in the realms of irony then you are seriously mistaken. The clue is in the title.
Imagine if the man, who conceived an idea to bring down the English democracy with cartload of gunpowder, was called Brian Smith.