Hitler cats

Thought I'd opt for something a a touch lighter today...

Although I suppose there's nothing all that light about mass murderers. Are cats who look like mass murderers funny? Probably not. I laughed though.

F***ball

Everyone's leaving the office
I can't even be arsed to turn 'round
To watch men on TV
With names I don't know
Filing into the ground

They clutch the hands of small children
There's an endless supply, so it seems
Then they boot about
A white bag of air
At their feet, a nation's dreams

Except mine, could I say, I'm not bothered
I don't care if we win or we lose
I only know Becks
And that monkey
Who hurt his foot because of his shoes

I'm told I should fancy Steve Gerrard
Is he the one who has OCD?
What is so sexy
About washing your hands
Obsessive compulsively?

The last thing I want, if I'm honest
Is to be at one with the nation
They're all ghastly
With big wobbly tummies
Perhaps I'll support the Croatians

I can't take another four weeks
Of pissed-up twats breaking glasses
Wrapping their fat forms
In flags
And exposing their pimply arses

I got Germany and Spain in the sweepstake
If they win I'll get 34 quid
If England
Manage to win it
I'll wish that they never did

So come on then England and lose
For God's sake, don't string it out
No one wants to see
You crying
As you f*ck up the penalty shoot-out.

Google image search I'm too hot special

Too damn hot

This is the front cover of a book advising ravers how to avoid carking it from heat exhastion whilst off their tits on mash-up pills. The cartoon clubber you see is called Peanut Pete, and apparently, there's some bad language in the book. Crazy!

Boiling alive


Roasting heat


And just for fun... geek

It's always too hot to be a geek.

Oi! Neo! Go and buy me some fags!

I don't wish to speak ill of a new-born baby, but seriously, what the hell do Shiloh Nouvel's parents think they're playing at? This child has been billed as the most gorgeous creature ever to skim gracefully out of a lady and onto the scorched Namibian earth. Well, the manicured lawns of a five-star resort somewhere near some scorched earth and maybe even some poor people. POOR AFRICAN PEOPLE, D'YA HEAR? Angelina LOVES them.

Anyway. Shiloh Nouvel does not sound like a beauteous, gurgling child, poised to heal Africa with one heart-breaking blink of her ethereal blue eyes. Sounds like dusty bottle of £1.49 warm, rancid white wine that one might chance upon in the "reduced to clear" bin at on outlet of Bargain Booze. Why do famous people think it's OK to inflict these f*ck-awful names upon the planet? It's not the celebrity sprogs that concern me, they're hardly going to get beaten up at school when (a) they have truckloads of cash (b) their dad is Brad Pitt, and (c) all their classmates are called Gossamer Dew, Warrior, Arizona Pie and Storm-Biscuits. It's the putting up with the chav mums screaming at their kids in the supermarket: "Oi! Shy-Lo, you little twat! Get your sticky mitts off that Jade Goody workout DVD and help me carry these crisps out the car!"

It can only be a matter of time before the first round of Trinities and Neos come of age and join the workforce, followed by the Apples then the Suris, then the Shilohs.

Update Woody Harrelson and his wife Laura Louie have announced the birth of their third daughter... Makani Ravello *sigh*. Their other two are called Denni Montana and Zoe Giordano.

I used to love him but I have to slag him off on the internet

Today, I would like to pose the question: what the F*CK happened to Axl Rose?



Well, obviously, there were the mountains of narcotics and the oceans of booze, no sleep, an inner twisted evil and no doubt a veritable dirty bomb of STDs carried by a tiny crab army, but still. Ginger dreadlocks? That look more than a little plastic? He reminds me of my Barbie after a heavy session with the hair mascara and the two-speed twirler.



His lips appear to have been smeared across his mug by a rather unprofessional cosmetic surgery practitioner, and are those cheek implants? He looks like Carol Vorderman FFS. I'm not even convinced that this really is a picture of him. Has he been at the chemical peels? It's either that or his face has nappy rash.



Over the years I've realised that pretty much everyone I know was at Guns 'n' Roses' Wembley Stadium gig in 1991 - the girls preying the roving camera wouldn't stop on them, requiring them to flash their blossoming assets to several thousand people, the boys screaming the words to Paradise City through mouthfuls of ham sandwiches that their mum made them take. A couple of summers ago, a group of friends and I were reminiscing about our G'N'F'N'R days and ran off to Woolies to buy the Welcome To The Videos DVD. Back at our friend Dom's house, we gathered around the television and pressed play... the first song begun.

Minutes passed.

Eventually, I broke the silence.

"Sharon?"
"Uh huh?"
"You know how we used to think Axl Rose was hot?"
"Yep."
"He was just a nasty ginger pikey, wasn't he."
"Yep."

It was a hurtful realisation, but perhaps one that was needed. A rite of passage. What did I really expect from a man whose name is an anagram of oral sex? Needless to say, I will not be attending this year's budget Guns 'n' Roses 'gigs' starring Braid Me Axl and a bunch of people I've never heard of. But no matter how vile he was back then, and no matter how much he now resembles a cheap Jafakin' Jocelyn Wildenstein, it is a small comfort to me that occasionally, around about 1989, Axl could just about manage to pull off hotness.



As for Slash, well. He was cool then, he's cool now, and he was hot when you couldn't even see his face.