When I read in the Mail today that Nigella Lawson’s fine ass has moved out of the home she shared with The Saatchi Strangler, my first thought was that everlasting love is a falsity (a word I learned from Judge Judy).
Yesterday afternoon all Nigella’s personal possessions were loaded into a removal van and shipped off to a storage unit in south west London, near to where she is believed to be setting up home without her nasty-assed husband of ten years, Charles Saatchi.
Ten years is a long-ass time for a woman to be married but after being strangled a few times hanging around for even ten minutes must seem like a life-time. I imagine the next thing we’ll hear will be that Nigella has filed divorce papers at the High Court of Justice in order to bring a formal end to this mess of a marriage.
In court Nigella will probably cite irreconcilable differences as the reason for the divorce. (boring) She’ll ask for full control of her brain, a lump sum, child support and full custody of their daughter Phoebe. At the hearing Nigella will totally deny that she tried to cut Charles’ dick off or that she even thought about shoving her hot curling tongues up his ass. Ok, shit won’t be that exciting, (it will see below) but if this divorce is contested it will make the headlines every day for a month.
Whatever, the outcome is inevitable, Charles Saatchi will spend his remaining years down in his dungeon banging his head against the wall until the grim reaper shows up to lead him to the afterworld.