Damn it’s turning into a slow news day, Fleet Street should be shut down and prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law for making celebrities look like fish.
I knew this day would come and now it’s finally here, just in time for the end of the world. I’ve read every inch of the gossip columns today and now I’m covering the story of a former girl bander who opened a restaurant in Gatwick’s south terminal.
I’m about to write about Nicola Roberts and how her public engagements are so full of desperation that I just want to slather her in peri-peri sauce and eat her whole. All in the name of ‘gossip-in-limbo’ you understand.
This BREAKING NEWS story was first reported by the mailonline at around midnight and then I picked it up this morning. Congratulations to us all.
Most us know that the mailonline creates some major shit bombs (see: Chilli Sauce Kills Donkey) but their source on this story failed to tell them that whilst opening a new Nandos restaurant at Gatwick airport yesterday, Nicola Roberts not only trashed the last of her relevancy but she also suffocated in the ladies toilet after one of her freckled poops exploded.
And there’s my explanation for Hot Flush of the Day!
Now if you’ll excuse me I have better things to do with my life today….
Today The Sun’s front page looks like that picture above as they report on the inquest into the sad death of Peaches Geldof which happened last April.
When her death was first reported everyone said that no trace of the baddest of all bad – heroin – was found anywhere in Peaches’ house but that the police suspected somebody had gotten rid of any drugs/paraphernalia before the cops had showed up.
Yesterday a coroner told an inquest in Gravesend, Kent that those reports were all wrong and that Peaches’ death had only happened because she’d taken an overdose of heroin.
The inquest was told that Peaches was a hopeless heroin addict and that she’d been using for several years before her death. Apparently when the police searched her home they did find drugs and associated paraphernalia including burnt spoons, syringes and hundreds of pounds worth of ‘high quality’ heroin.
The inquest also heard that during a post-mortem examination puncture marks were found on the front of Peaches’ right elbow and more on the front of her right thigh.
If you check in the ashtray of your car and count the loose change you keep in there you’ll probably find that you have about half of NMi’s picture budget for the entire month. This is why I’m grateful to the anonymous Reddit user who sent in this picture below, sad though it is.
The question mark has now been erased over the cause of poor Peaches’ death, her messy antics are over. She’d been doing that dragon chasing shit, she fucked around with an insanity just for a quick second. Her life ended in a puddle of vomit on the floor.
Rest in Peace – Peaches Geldof.
Go ahead, start pouring that vodka into your bathtub now, because you’re going to have to soak your body in a whole lot of booze after you’ve read the latest chapter in the messy and sad marriage that has become Katie Price’s latest pay cheque.
For over a week now Fleet Street’s literary journal of truth, The Sun has been publishing a long-ass interview with Katie. Each day we’ve heard how Katie’s husband, Kieran Hayler has been stirring his rampant boner in all the hot skanks he’s found in Katie’s address book.
Clearly Kierran is a crazy, manipulative, shady man-whore who brain-washed all of Katie’s friends into believing that doing an unspeakable act with him was like having face-to-face time with the founder of YouPorn.
If the interview is to be believed then it’s clear that ever since Katie found out about her husband’s infidelity she’s made it her life goal to skin Kieran’s reputation alive and then Riverdance on the destroyed body parts of all her dis-loyal friends.
And y’know what, since D.I.V.O.R.C.E is her ringtone, Visa security question and her potential neck tattoo it goes without saying that every so often Katie is going to kick some ass on Twitter.
Last night she took to her Twatter and turned words of anger into tweets of beautiful poetry. See below.
Oh, who to believe? On the one hand, I can’t blame Kieran for straying – being married to Katie must be a never-ending nightmare. Plus, that middle-aged slusher, Chrissy Thomas does sound pretty sexy, so who can blame him?
On the other hand, I cannot bring myself to imagining Kierran getting his greasy hump on in a truck stop motel. I mean, really? Then again…. oh it’s all too much. Someone get me one of those Men in Black mind eraser things, I want to forget everything.
Former Towie star Maria Fowler says she’s being stalked by an internet troll who has threatened to blow up her house and then rape her. Detectives with the Derbyshire police force are investigating after Maria told them that a rape-threatening troller messaged her on Twitter about a week ago.
Before this story made it to the Sun or any other tabloid, Maria’s local paper, The Derby Telegraph reported how Maria had received sick threats from an anonymous Twitter-user who has since deleted their account.
“There are people who are capable of doing things like this.
It’s an absolute nightmare. I was sent a message which said there is a bomb outside your house and that I should watch out because I will be raped.
I live on my own so to be threatened with rape is terrible.”
When I read about this last night a look of shock didn’t exactly cover my face. For ages now Twitter has suffered from a huge number of toxic little queens who, after consuming a bottle of 100% proof bitterness, tweet out all kinds of nasties to young women.
It’s funny how (it’s really not) these trololololos never tweet their own names, phone numbers, addresses or pictures. I mean what’s the matter with these people, do they live in a field of vaginas? They need to scratch at a fetish they didn’t know they had? Feed their souls with some truly entertaining fuckery?
And how do you respond to it? How do you troll a troll?
I’m sure I don’t know the answer so I guess for now we’ll just have to shrug our shoulders and hope that Maria can continue to use her Twitter, where she has 445,000 followers, in peace. Poor girl.