Her and band mates Bradley McIntosh and Paul Cattermole had only been on stage for 15 minutes when some imbecile threw a glass, which hit Jo ‘she’s got the flow’ and sliced a two inch gash (tee-hee, we said gash) in her head.
Now one, What the hell were Tokyo club doing allowing its questionable clientele drink from anything but paper cups? and b. surely said imbecile should have been aiming his glass in Danielle Lloyd’s general direction. Although presumably Lloyd wasn’t there. She was scoffing down a Chicken Cottage having hefted her way around Chinawhite or Kingly Club or wherever it is these giblets of society hang about nowadays, gripping on to the bar in white knuckle desperation and sucking off dirty old paps down Soho’s Swallow Street to ensure the teensiest bit o’ red top coverage. Yes, that’s where she was.
In case you’re not putting two and two together, let the oh-so-helpful GMTV elaborate in video form. Oh, and let’s remind ourselves why we hate Danielle Lloyd…
Yep, any event with a free drink, an Iceland nibble and a footballer who hasn’t yet been faced with some sort of rape charge (and they are so few and far between nowadays, have you noticed?) and Danielle Lloyd will be there, lapping up all three.