Archive for the ‘Twatter’ Category

Well we had the world’s first pregnant man, so it was only a matter of time before we had the world’s first impregnating woman… it’s just been revealed everyone’s favourite lesbian JustinE Bieber is the subject of a lawsuit where a 20 year-old woman is claiming he fathered her 3 month-old baby.

Now if the thought of that little squirt procreating doesn’t have you reaching for your office bin to be sick, her account of their ‘brief’ encounter will help you on your way to parting with your lunch.

‘Immediately, it was obvious that we were mutually attracted to one another, and we began to kiss. Shortly thereafter, Justin Bieber suggested that I go with him to a private place where we could be alone.

‘I agreed to go with him and on the walk to a private area, he told me he wanted to make love to me and this was going to be his first time.

He then told her he wanted to ‘fuck the shit’ out her. Which sounds like a verbal copy and paste from creepy pornos favoured by sleazy teenage boys with crusty spots and even crustier socks (sounds about right, he just has the money to bin the sock after use and a good dermatologist).  He also refused to wear a condom, which is how you know if someone really loves you. Especially if you’ve just met them, that means it’s love at first sight!

Possibly the worst part of this sordid episode is the fact that last October, when the alleged incident took place, J-Biebz was only 16, which in the state of California makes him underage, and as the woman was 19, she would be guilty of statutory rape. Imagine being the woman in jail for raping Justin Bieber? In saying that, they don’t tend to have many 9-13 year-olds in jail, so it’s unlikely anyone would give a french fancy.

OH, and you think I was trying to be funny when I said ‘brief’ encounter? Her sworn statement (like the one she is willing to go to jail for if she’s lying) said the whole caboodle lasted 30 seconds. Which sounds fair, I think I would only last around 30 seconds with Justin Bieber panting and sobbing like a little girl before I called it quits.

Justin had this to say this morning on twitter: ‘all the rumors…the gossip….Im gonna focus on the positives….the music.”

A pop star with a penchant for unsafe sex with promiscuous psychopaths? I say give it 6-8 weeks and he may have another positive to focus on.

So this morning Grace Dent (Guardian journalist) tweeted this observation about Holly Willoughby: 


‘Holly is the girl who spent from Freshers Week till Christmas crying on a pay phone in Halls hugging a hypoallergenic pillow.’
And this got me a-thinking what other celebrities are already in our lives under different guises….
Louie Spence is your boyfriend from primary school that always wanted to borrow your Mark Owen doll and wanted to dress up in your Baby Spice costume ‘just for a laugh’.

Kerry Katona is the woman in your office who flashed the boss on the work night out after bringing her own plastic bottle of Irn Bru full of Glen’s vodka and downing it on the bus there.

Jeremy Clarkston is your dad’s friend that always exclaims you’ve grown up while staring down your top.

Fearne Cotton is the girl that was really good at netball in high school and was rarely late. She got slagged for being the last girl in the class to get a bra and stole her Auntie Mabel’s 38G bra and wore it and everyone seen it at PE.

David Walliams is your friend that you always presume is gay, therefore get changed in front of him, but little do you know he is actually straight and furiously pleasures himself to this image. He is patiently waiting for the day you have two many Breezers and then he is going to give you the most unsatisfying four and a half minutes of your adult life.

Amy Childs might have been in your science class with in first year but you’re not sure, she had mousey hair and a flat chest and she got A’s for everything due to her exceptionally high IQ. She was friends with the girl that used to talk to her schoolbag.

Gary Barlow is middle management at your work, and used to sit and eat Gregg’s yum-yums all day until he started at Scottish Slimmers (which he never shuts up about), and constantly uses corporate jargon like ‘blue-sky thinking’ and ‘pushing the envelope’. He has been passed for promotion a record 5 times.

Nadine Coyle is the girl at uni who whined non-stop about being fat and ugly, normally while you were struggling to zip up a size 14 dress and would get drunk and get off with your boyfriend and then deny it happened.

The list is endless…..

So I get adulterous sexting, don’t do it, but I get it. Private text messages sent from one phone to another. You even get an app called Tiger Text, a nod to Tiger Woods’ many mistakes, where messages will erase themselves from the recipient and senders phone with in a specified time scale –

‘this sext will self destruct in 5…4…3…2…1’

But why did Jason Manford decide to demand sexy pics and swap flirty messages with one ‘lady’ on Twitter? It’s hardly the most private of social networking sites.

Well, that was my story originally. But then I got a Twitter crash course and realised there is such a thing as a private message. Jason Manford: 1, Sugarfreebitch: 0.

UNTIL… I googled the original story. The girl, Debra McNamee (which sounds like some daydreaming sub-editor nipped out for a cig just as they were going to press and didn’t have the heart to tell everyone ‘McNamee’ is a totally stupid made up name) sold her story to the Sun.

The ‘busty’ and ‘curvy’ lass – which, when not talking about Holly Willoughby or Kim Kardashian is really just a tabloid’s way of saying you aren’t shy of a pie or a pint of dry – is sight for sore eyes. A sight for botched Lasik with a vinegar chaser even.

Don’t believe me?

Look here…

Now, I’ve never seen his missus, but I think Adrian Chiles in a Lily-Savage-on-a-comedown costume is more sexually attractive.

In the news this week: the world waited with baited breath as Victoria Beckham entered the world of Twitter. I can safely say that if I was married to David Beckham I would have no time for social networking. Or sleeping. Or anything really. I would just stare at his beautiful face and get him to alternate between smiley-Becks and smouldery-Becks, as both faces have the same effect on the planet’s girls and gays: pure, unadulterated animal lust and longing.

So, back to her tweeting. She finishes them with ‘in love and light’, which, I’m afraid to say coming from a girl born in Essex, is the most LA-sounding-crock-of-shit I’ve heard this side of The Bachellor ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ special. Although judging from this picture, she seems to be tweeting the main components of her diet. Go on Vikki B, when was the last time you got all tanked up on Merrydown, danced around Yates Wine Lodge drinking WKDs and ended the night with a King Rib supper, 2 pickles and a glass bottle of Irn Bru for the morning? Treat yourself…

SO, I have always admired Perez Hilton. He has made a career, books, celebrity friends, and probable fortune, out of what I sit and do for free with only cats for company. There are many celebrities who hate him. He claims to fact check his stories but sometimes it all seems a bit suspect – take for example his claims yesterday that Khloe Kardashian splashed her Lakers husband’s cash buying him a new car. She tweets in reply ‘People r so pathetic! Y would I give some1 a gift w/ their money? That’s lame. I actually make my own money. Shocking I know. Stop hating!’. So, my pretties, who to believe??

Anyway I digress. My point here is he is always fastest and furious…est (sp?) with the news, views, gossip and any old rhubarb. So why so quiet over the story that a tipsy Lady Gaga was asked to leave the NY Yankees stadium at the weekend? Apparently she was swaggling about drinking whisky in a half-buttoned up baseball shirt talking all kinds of nonsense. Now the whisky/nonsense part may or may not be true, but these pics confirm the bits and pieces were out. I want to remain healthily suspicious. This is the man who calls her ‘Lady GODga’, ‘wifey’, and many other rank pet names, and openly professes to pretty much ejaculating everytime she says/sings anything. I hope this means he would still publish stories which show her in a bad light? I’m not the only one to have been slightly perturbed by his sycophantic arse-kissing.

p.s. I reserve my right to become famous and never say anything bad about Russell Brand, my future husband.

I follow Michael Lohan on Twitter. I’m not proud, but in the whole Papa Lohan vs. Liability Lohan verbal WWF death matches they seem to do most of their scrapping using this particluar outlet so there ya go. So imagine my dismay when I awake from my slumber this morning to see this TwitPic.

His Tweets alternate between quotes from the Bible and a recent outpouring about an alleged drug dealer who dealt to one of his ex’s (the one with the restraining order. Niiice.) That I could have just about dealt with. It was funny. Like having someone from One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest on my Twitter. But this? Horrible old man sunburnt ripples. No deal.

The whole psychology behind Liability Lohan is starting to make sense. This would drive me to drink/drugs/women/men/dramas/dancing.