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Who is this doing Marilyn? Don’t look at the caption. Just guess. Don’t look we said. Oh, now you’ve ruined it

Amost as good as the real thing. *waits for laughter*

Yeah, not quite right is it. With that nose. And mouth. And face. And eyes. And skinnyness. And…

Anyways, it’s to promote Paris Hilton’s 10th perfume range which has all the notes – top, bottom, versatile – just not the right ones.

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Alex won!


So let’s look at his cock!


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A story about Sex and The City. Sorry, ASASATC.

Lady in white. And a bit of red.

Kim Cattrall squirmed her way through a predictably tawdry Jonathan Ross interview yester eve, but we’ll be blown (we will. We really will) some actual information was garnered.

There might be a SATC3. Which, when written like the kids do, looks like a pair of tits at the end.

*falls off chair*

Then there might not be a SATC3.

*gets back on again*

But then, you never know, there just might be. A SATC3.

*falls right back off again*

Then again, it really is hard to say. What with the weather and schedules (both the ‘sk’ and the ‘sch’ varieties) and general generalness.

*stands up off chair, moves to chaise longue*

In other news, Kim Cattrall looked really hot. And white – are you taking notes? – is not generally a good colour on women of a certain age.

Who learn to rely.

And judge all his responses.

Speaking of which… (more…)

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*gets misty-eyed*

Shaft-me Avenue

These pictures are of Glittering London in the 1940s. A time when you could leave your back door open, gay homosexual bumming was punishable by public lashings atop Nelson’s Column, people were never more than 4 feet 2 inches tall owing to a diet of coal lumps and whatever was floating past on t’River Thames, it took three days to walk the length of the Kings Road because everybody stopped to curtsey one another and sing a rendition of ‘Let’s All Go Down To The Strand (Have A Banana)’, crinoline was in worryingly short supply, Queen Victoria was long dead and Angela Lansbury was already 47.

Want more? More, we ask thee? (more…)

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‘We was only popping in for a pack of fags. If we was doing a proper full shopping obviously we would’ve wearing clothes’ (sic)

If only you'd worn the spotty ones...

The woman at the centre of pyjama-gate has given a radio interview and, well, we’ll let her do the talking… (more…)

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Something involving Eurovish.

Sandie Shaw off-of no shoes

The UK of Great Britain’s entry for this year’s Eurovision will be penned (that’s ‘written’ in cliché-speak) by…

*drum roll; inhalation of poppers*

Pete Waterman!

Off-of Stock, Aitken and.

Off-of Kylie Minogue and Sonia and Mel and Kim and Rick Astley and Bananrama and Hazell Dean and Donna Summer-the-latter-years and a whole lot of other ands.

Off-of we shan’t bother with the ‘even if we get Madonna singing a song penned by John Barry, produced by Berry Gordy and shamelessly whored around town by Simon Cowell, we still haven’t got a hope in hell with those pesky Eastern Europeans block-voting in their stone-washed jeans and acrylic blousons’ line.

In the meantime, let’s sing along to Sonia’s ‘You’ll Never Stop Me From Loving You’, then chuckle heartily at French and Saunders taking the piss out of her.

ps. If you actually go to the YouTube page for Sonia’s ‘You’ll Never Stop Me From Loving You’, someone has posted a comment reading ‘stupid fucking souser’ (sic).

pps. That’s a picture of Sandie Shaw off-of no shoes, up there. If we need to explain, get thee back to Eurovish school… (more…)

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Harry Potter? 3D? 3D Harry Potter? Plus another story involving big gay Gareth Thomas.

Er, eyes to us, young man...!


So this is two stories in one. Bargain!

Firstly, jumping on the 3D bandwagon that is 3D, the next Harry Potter’s going to be in 3D. Never saw that one coming, did you?

Which neatly brings us to Daniel Radcliffe’s cock. Which is not really our cup of tea – builder’s, green, white or even Roibosh – but whenever we type the words ‘Daniel Radcliffe’ and ‘cock’ in the same sentence, the whole interdolly starts frothing at the fanny and billions upon billions upon billions of people pay us a little visit. Which is nice for them, and who are we do deny? Them?


Last night saw all of London’s glittering gays descend upon the discoteque they call Movida (v handy for Liberty and its thrilling selection of smells and gays who spray smells) for Attitude’s ‘Coming Out’ party for Gareth Thomas off-of new gay.

Apart from the irony of holding a big gay party in the slaggy hetero meat market that is Movida, twas a lovely affair. And full of gay famouses. There was the gay off-of History Boys, the gay off-of ‘Benders, the gays off-of painting houses, Will Young off-of gay singing, this-a-gay, that-a-gay, plus a few other gays off-of the telly for good gaysure. It was quite gay.

Being single ‘n’ all (ish. When it suits. Who are we kidding. We’re single. Ish) we had a notion to seduce Gareth Thomas, the big gay man mountain of gayness that he is. We even spent a whole five minutes trying to get his attention.

*circus music begins; juggles; curtseys*

Then we got bored and turned out attention to some Power Lezzers for the sheer lezzie-ness of it. And there wasn’t a key in sight. Or indeed a no-style hair style.


(This is a Brucie bonus.)

We also made a cameo at the Stonewall party for the launch of the DVD of Fit, the anti-homphobic bullying moving picture. Which is – news flash! – genius. Really. Really and a really.

Who knew an educational film could be not only educational, but hugely enjoyable. We were even moved to shift in our seats at some points.

And c) and d)


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