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Jodie Marsh: Say Something Nice.

Jodie Marsh-married-pictures

Thousands of people gathered on a beach in Barbados and watched as Jodie Marsh shook her unsightly pair of misaligned flap jacks (see above) and married James Placido, a chap who might yet prove to be something of an idiot.

Some of you have noticed that for some time I’ve put my umbrella of hate away and have not thrown a single shit ball at celebrities for behaving like big manqué messes. Some of you have asked why this should be. Well let’s not explain it here. Instead, let’s say nothing. Explaining stuff only complicates things and let’s face it… that can never end well.

OK then.. for those of you that prefer celebrity culture to the world of pop-art lets go with a ‘Say Something Nice’ post. It seems like forever since we’ve had one.

This is where I try to say something nice about a celebrity. Today it’s Jodie Marsh. That’s her above. Instead of making fun of that rubber looking face let’s say something nice about it.

Lets say nothing about her parched cleavage which looks like it just came out of a deep fat fryer. Lets say nought about her fake lashes that look like they were plucked off of the wings of a baby owl. And lets utter nothing about that face paint which looks like it was slapped on by the same foolish mortician who covered Katie Hopkins’ face in twenty coats of fug.

No. Let’s not focus on any of those things and focus only on the positive. Yes, say something nice.

Just for once…. ummm, errrr….

Firstly, I’m going to applaud Jody for qualifying for the Olympic Triple Nipple Jump. Well done dear.

Secondly, I’m also going to say something nice about that wonderful nose. He new husband would probably like to bounce up and down on that nose. Mind you that’s only because Jodie’s nose looks like a short little dick with a mushroom head and anything that looks like that has to be a good thing, right?

On the other hand it might just make James think about his failing flopper and that would be grounds for instant divorce!

Finally, I’d ike to say something nice about Jodie Marsh’s….I’m sorry wots this? She got married three months ago? Really? Well, that makes this ‘say something nice’ post a bit of a waste of time… doesn’t it.

Damn. I’ve lost again.

Prince William: It’s All About P.

Prince William,Paparazzi,Privacy,no fly zone,

Prince William and Princess Kate have declared a no-fly zone over their home Anmer Hall which lies within the Queen’s Sandringham Estate. According to the Department of Transport all planes are prohibited from flying over the house which is near King’s Lynn in Norfolk.

The privileged pair have long since bemoaned the nebulous collective attention of the people, the press, the paparazzi, their pictures, pirates and pesky persons. Now it’s the turn of pilots and planes.

I guess it’s always been about Prince William’s personal right to privacy. So now “for the security of the Royal Family” anything beginning with the letter P can piss off.

Except for Princes and Princesses that is.

Oh dear. A personal no fly zone. This the goes way beyond vanquishing the French and befouling their women, this is akin to spitting angry rainbows over the people’s press barons.

It’s ironic and I’m sorry but didn’t Prince William spend almost eight years as a flight attendant? OK, pilot. Prince William could have been a librarian or a baker of magic pies and I’d be no more perplexed by this nonsense from the monarchy.

Even more ironic is the fact that we the People are paying Prince William’s pension contributions. Shameful isn’t it?

Well what do you expect everyone – this is the legacy of a family who’s ancestors pillaged and plundered their way across all the continents on Earth so that they can have diamonds in their shiny hats.

People, please be patient … ready? Go Fuck yourself you Royal Prick.

Vincent van Gogh Is Alive!

Vincent van Gogh,painting,field, artwork,Minnesota, Stan Herd,

There’s been an uncomfortable incident involving a drunken job application… the result being that I now have to prove that I’m the perfect piece of trash for the job. In order to test my skills with words, spelling, pronunciation and the ability to write on any given subject I’ve been challenged to write something interesting, amusing and informative about a Vincent van Gogh which has been reproduced in a field in Minnesota America.

Begins – in reverse order.


To celebrate their centennial, the Minneapolis Institute of Art (Mia) has commissioned Kansas-based artist Stan Herd to re-create Vincent van Gogh’s “Olive Trees” in a field belonging to the press agency Reuters.

Stan, who has created a number of these type of works in the past, including one of Leonardo da Vinci’s sketches, unveiled the 1.5-acre work of crop art last week. He began his work last spring.

Prior to the planting, Stan had to decide which specific plants and soils to use. Here’s what he had to say about how he used these plants and soils to best represent van Gogh’s colour palette and brushstrokes.

The amazing thing about van Gogh’s painting was that there’s wasn’t a single straight line in the whole canvas. So I planted verdant, green plants. Everything organic and everything curved. And flowing. It had to flow, like a pulse.”

Stan Herd’s artwork will stay on view until the end of the autumn.

For those of you that care Stan’s artwork is located near the Minneapolis–Saint Paul International Airport. Apparently Mia chose that particular site so that people in planes can see it as they fly into the city.


Someone needs to explain to me how this particular project fits Stan Herd’s goal to be recognised as a creator of cool stuff. By cool stuff I don’t mean a Vincent van Gogh that requires a regular dolloping in horse manure either.

No, cool stuff would be placing this entire field in one of those hyperbolic time chambers which is then programmed to reopen again in 200 years.

In that way when zero intelligence has ironically turned out to be the only force capable of thwarting artificial intelligence, mindless robotic giggles will burst forth to neutralise the entire android revolution.

Yes. Human life will then return to rule over the Earth.  So all hail to Stan Herd, your place in history is assured. Now go paint some racing stripes on the breasts of Kim Kardashian.


Who knew that Reuters owned a field in Minnesota. And yes, of course I was joking about the job application.

Photography Prints

Jeremy Corbyn Snubs The Queen.

Jeremy Corbyn-privy-council-queen

If the Queen touches you with her crusty palm, it’s considered terribly important. Even if it’s just to pass you a note that says she killed Diana and blames herself for her grandson being gay. Of course, Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn knows this.

So. What’s this nonsense all about then. It all started this morning with The Daily Mail (who else) accusing Jeremy Corbyn of ‘snubbing’ HM Queen.

Imagine that. Snub. To snub, rebuff, ignore, spurn disdainfully, an act of rebuffing or ignoring someone. A Royal snubbing? Oh Daily Mail, you’re sooooo urban dictionary.

Anyways, apparently Jeremy Corbyn has refused to attend a ceremony (later today) where he was due to join the hallowed Privy Council.

I think we all recognise that Jeremy Corbyn is not only the leader of the Labour party, a beard wearer and a man who would never unwittingly set off a nuclear bomb with a mobile phone given to him by a Jihadist, he’s also a staunch republican.

Essentially that means there’s no way on God’s green Earth that Jeremy Corbyn is going to kneel in front of the Queen, kiss her hand and then swear a subservient oath about his undying love for and his allegiance to the monarchy.

Naturally a spokie for Jeremy Corbyn said that his boss could not attend due to a ‘clash of diaries’, but he would not say what diarised muddle mix malarky actually caused this mess.

Me? I don’t blame Mr Corbyn for this, not one bit. After all who wants to stand around with your trouser leg rolled up while those around you discuss how best to garage their fleet of Bentleys and chatter on about how little they know about the whereabouts of their children.

The Privy council may serve the purpose of allowing HMQ to be seen with important political figureheads without having to fake smile her way through an insufferable state dinner but who needs to attend an event where you’re forced to fire your chief of wardrobe for failing so miserably.

Sell Art Online

Kerry Katona: Another Marriage Over.

Kerry Katona-george Kay-split-divorce

Inevitably predictably and obviously – Kerry Katona and her husband George Kay have ‘sad but trued’ on their marriage. It’s over.

Inevitably – a spokesman for Kerry has spoked:

“It is with deep sadness Kerry announces the end of her marriage to George Kay. Her focus now will be on her gorgeous children.”

Predictably – you can see full details of the split in the Sun . Ahhh yes, the Sun newspaper, they have a team of aggressive midgets who live in small lean-to next Kerry Katona’s house just waiting for these kind of things to happen. I’m sorry, aggressive little-people, like in Beijing.

Obviously – these two wonderful mud muppets couldn’t make it past year three and one illegitimate child. No doubt Kerry Katona, being a multi-marriage lady with a herd of babies and the face of a Quentin Matsys painting, will come up smelling of roses and then move on to her next marital failure.

However, for whiz bang zapper man George Kay I expect this will hit him much much harder. It’s not quite as bad as losing the battery charger to your taser or your entire genital package to a public meltdown in front of your neighbours, but still, this was his wife and his baby’s mama. Now that pain has got to linger for minutes on end.

I have a theory. If you have sex with Kerry Katona it will kill your whole life. Even if you happen to be married to her. Still, it’s hard to imagine that Kerry and George, who’s true love story didn’t quite make the marriage of the year awards, are splitting up after such a long run.

The impending divorce should free Kerry to focus on new ways to re-release a hit single and George to focus on making more money off someone else’s celebrity.

Rita Ora – Sexy Fish!

Rita ora-Sexy Fish-restaurant-campaign

We all know about Rita Ora and her auto-tuned vocals but nobody has ever mixed a fish and the chance of having sex with a hot woman before.

The Sexy Fish restaurant which is due to open in Berkeley Square later this month, is the latest addition to a chain of London restaurants owned by Caprice Holdings. In order to promote man’s domination over the seas they’ve hired Rita Ora’s cleavage to promote their delicious salad nicoise with a hint of cadmium isotope from Fukushima.

I mean really!

Some might call this an imaginative promotional campaign. Yes good idea chaps, lets dress her up as a mermaid. That says ocean and tons of chum like nothing else. Right chaps?

Well wrong chaps. While a mermaid is a great choice, it always reminds men how much they wanted to have sex with that girl from The Little Mermaid, even though she was half-fish… and that’s disgusting.

And Rita Ora? Are you kidding my ass? You’ve really got to love fish to order it with Rita staring back at you from the menu because now I’m thinking Cod Burger…with onion rings.

Most alley cats wouldn’t take the chance. But there’s no denying it, visiting the Sexy Fish restaurant might result in sex with Rita Ora. Or dysentery.

Oh I know, The Ivy, The Caprice, Sheekies and Scots – they’re all quality restaurants owned by Caprice Holdings – but grant me a little poetic here.