Imagine if that were true! The media would get themselves and everyone else into such a frenzy that the swirling vortex of chaos would be visible from space, much like Katie Price’s tits – yes the very same airbags that didn’t almost save her life earlier this week when she didn’t almost die in a traffic accident, blown out of proportion by everyone involved.
She only has herself to blame for her out-of-proportion tits.
Royal coupling related crap deemed newsworthy today includes that they are having the London Chamber Orchestra play at their wedding. Well, that’s not entirely front headline stuff is it? ‘Queen chokes to death in drunken speed eating contest during 108th sticky bun’; ‘Celebrity spotted exhibiting talent’, ‘Lady Gaga wears bikini made of egg white’ or ‘Gaga admits “I’m really not that talented”, these are the headlines we’re really gagging for.
Now I like a bit of the old classical, me. After a wonderful evening, I like nothing more than a bit of Ludwig Van. But it’s not so newsworthy is it? ‘Prince Charles opts for gender reassignment’ – that’s newsworthy. And the royal duo’s choice of muzak is by no means as un-newsworthy as other un-newsworthy news.
What female celebrities wear seems to be very important. In fact, it is so important that sections in generic celebrity magazines are dedicated to them.
Of course, these magazines’ key demographic is of vacuous air-headed females who care more about hairdos, handbags and lipstick, than they do about the impending oil crisis, of which they are probably unaware. I look forward to seeing them staggering around post-apocalypse reapplying lip gloss to their caramelized faces, trying to find their lost high-heel that contains their blown off foot, still dragging around handbags that are slightly smaller than a Venezuelan fishing village, containing every book penned by Marian Keyes and Stephanie Meyers at least a year’s subscription to Grazia; enough Tampax to stem the sanguine flow in a football team of heavily menstruating porn ‘stars’, discarded tights that still smell faintly of yeast, enough make-up to permanently mummify themselves three times over and an industrial-sized bottle of perfume takes two people to operate when the 15 minute reapplication scent, face powder and lip gloss is required.
Some of them have faces under there you know.
[adsense]These over painted, parodies of femininity look like blow-up dolls and behave like zombies, so I’m sure the apocalypse will be kind to them. And let’s face it, they have pretty much all they need to survive in their giant handbags anyway. They could live off the fat in their lipsticks for a month alone and use the tights and perfume to create a safety circle around them.
‘Bint who survived post-apocalypse by eating lipstick fat and stymieing zombies with smelly tights and excessive use of celebrity endorsed perfume, finally dies wearing pink cardigan and Jimmy Choos’. Read our special report on how she kept slim during her one-month of survival.
Spare a thought for the hypocrisy of the media who ebb and flow like a tide of effluent by leaving a comment.
images: guysnation.com; bittenandbound.com