Posts Tagged ‘Cheryl Cole’
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.
I didn’t even have time to post that Lindsay Lohan had gone to jail before she was softly handed over to the men in white coats. Her 90 day sentence, of which she served 14, is now the only thing in her timeline shorter than her stint as a lesbian.
She’s now in a rehab and psychiatric facility, and hopefully not the normal celebrity ones where you are taught to blame your mother/father/upbringing/ religion/assistant/dealer/Krispy Kreme/Sesame Street and anyone else you can think of so you don’t have to admit you have been…well a little bit naughty.
I think as far as comebacks go she really needs to find her marbles and hold on to those babies for dear life, I mean prescription drugs are a little bit 2009 non? 2010 is the year of malaria darling, now Cheryl’s done it I hear designer mosquito bites are THE only accessory for the summer.