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Bloody women, sort yourself out! They go around, aching of stomach and with headaches moaning about how much pain they’re in. Pah! It’s pathetic, if only they knew the suffering that a man has to go through every time he gets a common cold. Now there’s pain.
They don’t even know they’re born, whereas men, they’re just bloody amazing, aren’t they? Valiant soldiers the lot of ‘em.
So, there’s some kind of royal get together happening where the UK spends shit loads of money on paying a really posh guy to marry some semi-posh-ish punani he met at university. It’s like a fairy tale come true, if fairy tales were all about posh shits getting a free wedding from the plebs. Which I suppose they are.
Anyway, much more exciting than some boring upper class shit-fest is this film. Carved from a ball of cheddar with dead trees playing the parts of Will.i.Ain’t and Kate Middle-Class-Ton, it looks like it’s the greatest film since…that TV movie about a mother overcoming her alcoholism to become a crack addict.
If there’s one question that’s balancing in restless anticipation on the very tip of everyone’s tongues it’s: What next for reality TV? Well, you’ll be glad to know it involves killer dolphins, bimbos, drag queens, space, love, hate, weight loss, and a bunch of other crazy stuff that will blow your skull wide open. The only thing missing is celebrity zombies and Simon Cowell being sexually ravaged by horny cetaceans.
So you’ve been out on a date, you both got on really well. She likes getting drunk and eating food at restaurants and, weirdly, so do you! You must be the only two people in the world who do. So it must be special, plus she likes the Godfather Part 3 and you do too. Just like that couple on the adverts.
You leave the restaurant, you walk her home, she invites you up for a coffee and…you refuse. WTF!? If you refuse then you deserve to get what this guy gets. Waiting’s for losers and people born in the 1950s.
So Mr Fry goes off to Harvard University and is awarded the 2011 Lifetime Achievement Award from the Humanist Chaplaincy. But it being Stephen “Stud Muffin” Fry, a young woman can’t help but throw herself at him figuratively in song.
And her banjo serenade means offering her womb to him so she can have lots of little Frys running around, buying Apple products and generally being posh and clever. She’s totally hot for Steve and she’s not afraid of announcing it. In song. To a room full of strangers.
Now this looks like an Oscar winning movie, with no doubt some superb performances from some of the finest young actors and actresses from merry olde England.
And if nothing else, the film should win some sort of accolade, maybe a Nobel prize or Pulitzer, for the title. It’s not just naked women and money shots that the porn industry gifts us all with, but also some incredible puns. Lest we forget.
Just because a lady likes her cat, doesn’t mean she’s crazy cat lady. But cats can be jealous creatures, fuelled by envy that someone is taking the attention away from them and their cute little existence.
So what do they do? Well they act is what they do. They act to stop that interloper coming into their cosy life and pushing them out of the picture. And this here is the evidence. Those conniving little shits.
The nation’s sweetheart and first Geordie to ever leave Newcastle, she’s now so famous you can’t get out of bed without bumping into one of her many clones that roam the British countryside looking for an angry fix.
So what better tribute to such a shining example of towering intelligence and workhouse ethics than this 47 second clip. She shoots, she scores, she gets cheated on by a hairdresser.
