Oof, someone needs to go on the get-out-of-jail drop a dress size diet!

Who ate all the hair pies?

While his missus was too busy beating up photographers to meet him as he came out of jail (Amy, you have crossed a line love. You can now officially fuck off), Blake Fielder-Civil (civil by name only, btw. Let’s not forget those grevious bodily harm convictions. That means hurting people. Which we don’t hold with. Though Amy obviously does) was cutting quite a dash.

And quite a lot of dash, as he seems to have piled on the pounds flicking himself off in his prison cell before tucking into Wagon Wheels, or whatever it is they’re feeding prisoners these days. Is there something wrong with gruel, all of a sudden? 

Anyways, for those following the vissicitudes of Blake ‘n’ Amy, he’s now going into a rehab-type facility somewhere in south London (punishment indeed!) until he can be trusted around the Junior Disprin.

Story ends. Everyone yawns. 

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One comment to “Oof, someone needs to go on the get-out-of-jail drop a dress size diet!”

  1. Oh dear.

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