Public Service Announcement FAO: CHERYL TWEEDY/COLE
Posted August 16, 2011on:
Cheryl, wherever you are: holed up in an LA mansion, underneath the Tyne Bridge, or that celebrity blackhole where Katie Price’s dignity, John Travolta’s boyfriends and Natalie Portman’s baby weight have all disappeared to, please read this cautionary tale.
I fell asleep after watching 14 straight hours of the Bachelor the other night and had a haunting premonition. It was what will happen 30 years from now if Cheryl reunites with the A-Chole.
Picture the scene: a working man’s club in South Shields where beaded curtains are the height of sophistication and a long vodka is the most exotic drink on the menu. Their relationship had gained as many years as she had inches and they were celebrating renewing their vows, with an 8-page spread in Love It! magazine. She was singing ‘It’s all coming back to me now’, her voice ravaged by age and 30-a-day Mayfair since their initial split. He was out the back, post-Chelsea pot-belly exposed as his Newcastle Brown Ale stained-shirt was being unbuttoned by Sarah from Girls Aloud, who had ended up one of those old, tanned women that look like a Birkin Handbag with a face, and whose love of peroxide is only rivaled by their love of gold.
HE WILL NEVER CHANGE. The man thinks fidelity has just been signed by Tottenham. He thinks monogamy is what he had to take those antibiotics for after Faliraki. He thinks committment is the Calvin Klein fragrance he dowses himself in after a night of fingering up China Whites.
Chezza, at least Simon Cowell had the good grace to replace you with someone of equal beauty, instead of whoever happens to be in slevvering distance.