Am hoping that any day now I will be able to switch on the TV without having to hear any more about the scandal that is phone hacking.
Boring. Move along. Nothing more to see here.
Is it heavy? Does it take long to blow-dry? Is she intentionally modelling herself on Crystal Tipps?
What has she done with Alistair?
The grizzled old dude that is always in the shot when she appears, seems to sense her need for spinal support, since he always has a claw on her lumbar region when she is attempting to run away from the baying hoards of journalists. Said journalists are apparently taking a week off from hacking into phones and rummaging through celebrities bins to be ‘on-the-spot’ providing conscientious coverage of a story that they are able to gasp and mutter about since on this occasion, they’re not the ones that got caught.
Basically, unless somebody is prepared to pony-up and reassure me that Rebekah’s hair related condition is a one-off and that I’m not likely to catch it, can we stop stirring the hypocritical pot and go back to giving the man-on-the-street what he’s after getting, and find out for him what colour knickers Jordan is wearing today.
I guess you can’t just walk up to her and ask her but, having said that, don’t do anything dodgy in the pursuit of this information or we’ll have no choice but to hoist you on the capricious petard of righteous indignation.
Britain has apparently become a nation of ‘mob-wives’.
We want to know the salacious details on which slime-ball politian has been sucking whose toes, but we don’t want the stolen van parked out the front of the house where the neighbours can see it.
Oh, infamy, infamy.
They’ve all got it in for me.