Faggy, on that Posh ‘documentary’.
Hands up who saw Posh Spice off-of Posh ‘n’ Becks starring in her very own ‘documentary’ presentation-bit-like-Panorama last night? ‘Coming to America’ – do you think anyone bothered to tell her that the title was rather unfortunately referencing an Eddie Murphy film (that’d be the same Eddie Murphy who she loathes because he got her friend up the duff then ran like hell)?
The documentary was pretty much unwatchable, mainly because it was one of those hopelessly over produced, over directed, ‘reality’ shows where every time someone so much as takes a dump you know it’s been choreographed to hell.
‘I know, let’s turn her into some hilariously spoilt pampered princess like Paris Hilton on The Simple Life,’ some producer’s clearly thought. But here’s the difference, people.
If Paris, the heiress in the gilded cage says she’s not used to answering her own door – you’d have no problem believing her. But Victoria Beckham? She’s spent half her life on the terraces at Manchester United and half in a Sawbridgeworth Harvester wearing Timberlands chasing after those chav children, so who’s she trying to kid?
She’s married to a man who says ‘was you’ instead of ‘were you’ for heaven’s sake. But the main problem is that she’s trying to be funny – when she’s about as funny as tertiary-stage prostate cancer.
Everyone has a talent in life – some people split atoms, some people transplant kidneys, some make TV shows, and some are just great at marrying someone talented. So for Lordi off-of Eurovish’s sake, why doesn’t she just concentrate on that and leave that boring work stuff to other people…