Oh dear Christophina Ciccone, what a nastee, trashee, sleazee (OK, Beyonce, calm down, dear…) naughty boy you are!
I mean as if poor old Lady Madonna hasn’t got enough to worry about what with that miserable dud of a husband on a permanent gap year, and that baseball man with a vast neck and scary blue contact lenses sniffing around, and a sudden penchant for an M&S nana slip worn as outerwear.
And were you really expecting honest, god-fearing Fag Hags like myself to spend their Sunday devouring your tawdry tell-all with the naked greed of Peaches Geldof on a shoplifting spree in ToSho? Well, that’s where you are so… right mister! J’adored it, lapped it up, had me begging for more. And what did I come away with after my orgy of sleaze?
I learnt that lady Madonna is as gloriously foul and villainous as I had hoped.
I learnt that Guy and his friends are so deeply uncool they use the word poofter in a non-ironic way like old janitors in a 1953 Ealing comedy.
But the best thing of all? I learnt the phrase ‘I gave up my life to make you the evil queen you are today!’ and there’s a few people I’m just itching to use it on.