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David Walliams And Lara Stone Split.


DAVID WALLIAMS: If you’ve been holding out for a single 31-year-old super model with one child, one dog and a terrible attitude then The Sun have good news for you this morning. David Walliams and his wife Lara Stone have split.

According to the nation’s favourite tabloid David Walliams was left devastated last night after watching his wife, Lara Stone walk out of their London townhouse. The tabloid say that she took their baby son Alfred and their little dog Bert with her.

Nobody knows why Lara left or where she went but I heard that she’s gone to live under a bridge (I didn’t hear that). Apparently the couple have agreed to a trial separation.

I guess Lara just couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, living with David must be like living with a pantomime horse and a sneaky little snake. And if you nodded your head and thought, “yes, I agree” well then I hate you. Poor David.

It’ll be weird to see David out on dates after this. Actually it’s hard to imagine him doing anything normal. He’s so much larger than life. He’s like the Mona Lisa and Nelson’s Column had a son.

I don’t know, Lara is a super model. Most super models sit at home all day and practice being annoying in the mirror. This is why very few of them can do better in life than to find a man like David Walliams.

Poor David. I sat in a cab with him once. It was parked outside his house. He refused to get out because the paps were waiting for him. We sat there for half an hour. The paps eventually got bored and left. Then we had tea.

So that’s that. I’m sure that before I hit publish on this mess, Lara will have scheduled a hand-holding photo-opportunity with her new boyfriend and I really hope that her new squeeze is Justin Bieber. He’s perfect for her.


Kanye West: I Am Picasso.

Kanye West-I Am God-News Media Images

Kanye West: It’s another slow-ass news day so you may as well begin your eye roll exercises and prepare to scan the latest cold puddle of verbal wet poo from Kanye West.

By now we’ve all come to recognise Kanye West as a constipated toddler who throws bitchy little pout tantrums whenever someone tells him he isn’t the greatest thing to happen in the history of the world.

Take yesterday afternoon for example when Kanye was addressing the Oxford Guild Society at the Museum of Natural History in London. All was going splendidly well until suddenly without warning Kuntye farted off at the mouth about his aspirations to become an internationally acclaimed artist.

Not just any old artist you understand but a reincarnation of Pablo Picasso himself!

He told a stunned audience:

“My goal, if I was going to do art, fine art, would have been to become Picasso or greater. That always sounds so funny to people, comparing yourself to someone who has done so much, and that’s a mentality that suppresses humanity. If I could have done it again I would have gone to the art institute over the American academy

We have the resources as a civilisation to make a utopia, but we’re led by the most greedy and the least noble.

I approach creativity like a sport, if I have a drawing I react just like a jock: LOOK AT THE FUCKING DRAWING OVER THERE YEAH.

I don’t think there’s a living celebrity with more weapons formed against him, but I don’t think there’s one more prosperous.”

WTF is he talking about? He’s a fine artist now? I should be used to this. Every time Kanye West opens his delusional insufferable mouth he completely loses me. I have no idea what he’s talking about most of the time and I smoke copious amounts of weed.

I mean seriously, how the hell is Kanye West still walking amongst us? If any of us went out in public and said that Kim Kardashian is the most important fashion icon of our time or that you are Pablo Picasso in waiting then the last thing we’d remember before blacking out is several anxious men in white coats running towards us with nets and tranquilizer guns.

We’d wake up strapped to a chair while a ginger haired goddess tried to force feed us with a spoonful of truth.

However, because artistry must always be respected, here’s a fine art picture of Kanye West wearing …. leather jogging bottoms.


Cheryl Fernandez-Versini ‘Steve’ Haircut.


Cheryl Fernandez-Versini: I’m sure you already heard about this BREAKING NEWS since every news station has interrupted it’s programming to tell you about it.

Your iPhone has probably bleeped you an alert too, but I’ll tell you the incredible news anyway since that’s what a responsible journalist (HA!) should do.

Yesterday Polydor’s best selling girl, Cherl Fernandez-Versini Cole Tweedy whateverhernameisnow threw a picture of her new haircut up to Instagram. This goes without typing, but she looks like that 15-year-old decoy on The Paedophile Hunter.

Yes, the Candy Crush girl from Newcastle-on-Tyne got herself some kind of a haircut but judging by that picture above she also got the ‘Steve’ (see below)

I’m sure Cheryl Fernandez-Versini will eventually write a #1 song about ‘breaking up’ with her hair. Then the Daily Mail will interview her and she’ll tell them that the song hurts and how she misses the few inches of hair that once played such a big part in her mega star life.

Oh the world will never be the same. I’m sure Cheryl Fernandez-Versini knocked the planet off of its axis with this 1970’s mullet thing because those nasty tabloids keep publishing ugly-assed images of her. The nerve!

But seriously. What could possibly make a wealthy, mildly attractive woman like Cheryl Fernandez-Versini come out in such a horribly styled haircut? It looks like the ‘Steve’ style from my local barber shop.  You know, you point to a photo of a guy in a picture gallery on the wall whose hairstyle you like. Unless you speak fluent Serbian it’s the safest way. I’ve been there loads of times and I’ve never heard anyone actually ask for the ‘Steve’. You just point at the picture and nod your head.

Actually ‘Steve’ looks like a retard so I guess Cheryl will soon realise that she’s got messed up fucking Steve hair now. And then she’ll cry.

So that’s that.

Parking Celebrities In London.


Parking in London has changed. I said nothing when the City of Westminster got rid of all the parking metres in the West End.

And I stayed quiet when they began charging eight thousand pence for an overstayed visit to a parking metre that didn’t exist. After all those huge-ass potholes don’t just pay for themselves.

Nowadays you pay their asses by texting them your registration number and your credit card details. They don’t even issue you with a physical parking ticket anymore. I think the parking fine now comes through to your social media account.

I am now totally confused by this new virtual parking system. Not confused as in young boy gets confused as he watches woman undress. I mean confused as in why the hell did they ruin a perfectly good system of parking in the first place, kind of a way.

I mean, if you’re not going to at least provide me with a Somali born traffic warden to put a parking ticket on my window then you can fuck off.

And what about celebrities getting parking tickets stuck on their windscreens. You don’t see that anymore. I used to love seeing those tabloid pictures of a rich and famous person getting their parking ticket.

“Hold The Front Page! Celebrity Gets Parking Ticket. See The Riveting Video Here.”

I used to love reading those articles because they always reminded me that beneath all glittering veneer of fame celebrities are just like you and me.

But y’know, beautiful celebrities shouldn’t have to pay for parking. I mean look at Kelly Brook struggling with a parking meter in Los Angles. Kelly’s a big star now. She has a busy schedule, she can’t be circling around the streets all day looking for a parking space. Kelly Brook just needs to stop and then shop for her conditioner, lingerie and sex toys in peace. I’m just kidding, she doesn’t shop for that last one.

How is this world made better if Kelly were to start shopping online and the streets became filled with pensioners who motor down the road at snail defying speeds and forget to turn their indicators off for a week?

What we need is a system of parking which favours the beautiful and disfavours you know, those smarmy blue badge holders.

I think women with enormous cleavages and short skirts should get some kind of preferential treatment. This is how society could show how it values attractive women and how everyone should just shut the fuck up.