What’s the pointless spawn of a one hit wonder – seen here circled in our Heat-style-y circle of shame – to do when her native country has run out of free flying objects to lob at that petulant, straight-out-of-a-Seth-MacFarlane-cartoon face? Why, run off to the land of the free-if-you-have-enough-money, the US and A, that’s what! Hooray!
And that, ladies and germs, is just what Peaches Geldof, AKA The Partying Potato, has gone ‘n’ done.
Last night saw TPP making, as the Daily Mail have fruitfully put it, ‘her mark on the Manhattan party scene in typical statement style’. Now knock us down with a Pillsbury Doughboy chin (thanks to Fag Hag for that one), but dipping your split ends into Lu Blue Toilet Cleaner then yanking a lumpen thigh or two into hooker tights is… oh, no, you’re right, it’s TOTALLY ‘typical statement style’ for Peaches ‘my prime was in the womb’ Geldof, who no doubt has sent ripples of fear through Manhattan’s party scene, most of whom were seen leaping to their deaths in the Hudson as TPP approached in Nana’s cast-offs-with-a-cheeky-twist.
The only poor sod who didn’t quite make a run-for-it was Brooke Shields, the sheer delight of their meet splashed all over her face as evidenced/grimaced ici…