Firstly, don’t take that literally. Unless your bitch is Gok Wan. And if he is, sadnesses…
So this little story, ladies and gentlemen and others, is a story about popbitch. Really rather a lot of you will know the services of popbitch. They were the original of the gonzo, interdolly-based, celebrity commentators to strip the world of famouses bare, bring it to its knees, then tell us who was noshing ’em off whilst they were down there. In weekly newsletter form, every dolly Thursday. How modern.
Before all that smug ‘Guess which A-lister with two tits who lives in Hollywood and goes out with an actor who lives in Hollywood is having an affair with another actor who lives in Hollywood?’ bollocks the likes of Grazia revel in (Answer: The work experience), popbitch were doing it better, with more spunk, not an ounce of sycophancy, and the stories were Juicy McJuice.
For the past eight years they’ve had their mucky little (non-sausage) fingers firmly on the celebrity faultline – and this year, to the delight of tens of millions of billions of people, they’ve decided to put their findings deep withinside a book. A tome. A compendium. A monograph. A book. It’s called Popbitch: Celebrity Excess and Other Monkey Business. Spookily, there’s a monkey in it. Looks like that up there. He gets to re-enact things like an 80s popstar getting schtupped by a fatty on Hampstead Heath. Lucky monkey. (Sidebar: Someone just pointed at our screen and said, ‘That isn’t a monkey.’)
It is, in no more than 12 words, ‘a history of celebrity culture since the beginning of
It is also, magically, the perfect gift for a loved one this Christmas. £16.99. And if you don’t buy it, those poor children won’t get anything.
ps. We don’t really know what ‘Smack yo bitch up’ means. Something about smack? Something about yo-yos? Something about kilts? We were just trying to think of a headline with the word ‘bitch’ in it. They’re probably counting themselves lucky they didn’t call themselves popcunt.