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Someone needs to get Noah Mills out of those wet clothes, immediately.

Noah, oah.

That is all. (more…)

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Some fuzzy pictures of Chace Crawford. Fuzzy suits him.

Chace me...

But really, fuzzy, in this day and age? He may be in Mexico but that’s no excuse.

Or is it?

When we interviewed Chace Crawford in a glittering London hotel room he couldn’t stop sneezing. We left the room, experimentally, and he stopped. We came back in, the sneezing started again. Chace Crawford is officially allergic to us.

That’s what we got from that…?


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The fact that he does it for a living kinda takes the shine off

Which one's the imposter?

So we were going to do one of those live, real-time, right-in-front-of-your-eyes Tweet things during this year’s Eurovish, but when you’ve been drinking since 1973 it’s difficult to find the letters on a keyboard.

And when we woke earlier today to find that the gentleman caller beside us was actually a half-eaten kebab (we’ll never get the grease out) we… oh no, forgotten where that one’s going. 

And now we’ve gotten to thinking that not only does our new deodorant smell nice and it doesn’t leave unsightly white marks, but that we’ll have to turn down Elaine Paige on a Sunday if we’re ever going to get anything done round here.

As for Eurovish, the usual highly enjoyable wank, and Germany naturally shouldn’t have won but when is that ever relevant. And that woman’s got cunt written all over her.

The highlight was early on in the proceedings when man-in-bonnet invaded the stage during Spain’s performance but such is the shonky nature of Eurovish it was hard to tell whether he was part of the routine or not. Turns out not.

It was a fun thing, but when we discovered that man-in-bonnet man was in fact a professional shit-stirrer – he runs on lots of pitches across the globe – and not only that but has a name – Jimmy Jump – we felt we’d been short-changed. It’s just not cricket really, is it?

And if anyone needs us, we’ll be at that pool party thing at Shoreditch House, enjoying a delicious bowl of gay soup.


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Daniel Craig’s bumming itinerary

Bit pokey...

This is Daniel Craig’s new flat in London’s glittering New York. He is a fancy pants for sure.

He paid $1.9million for it. Which is all pounds, shillings and pence to us.

More importantly, this is his bumming itinerary. Which is not dissimilar to a shopping itinerary, only completely different.

Daniel Craig will meet us here (1). He will be wearing tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt, upon which there will be a small stain from the Ramen noodles he was eating the previous night. He will smell a little musky, we won’t mind.

What we are wearing is irrelevant because Daniel loves us for who we are. Flawless, though, if anyone’s taking notes.

There will be chat. Not much, but some. Bons mots will fly. Still laughing, Daniel will lead us here (2).

We will tell him to get rid of those ridiculous throws (3). He will say, ‘But they’re so soft!’ We shake our head. ‘No.’

Back here (2), Daniel finds every opportunity to touch us. A wayward eyelash, a stray hair, a concerned stroke of the nose which is a little rouge with poppers burns.

Then Daniel Craig gets a bit crazy, like. With one alpha-male swipe of his right arm (and a look of fear in our eyes. Which really makes them pop), Daniel clears the white laminate coffee table of all ornaments (4, 5 and 6). He then lifts us up (oooh, strong) and places us here (7). We ask him why he bothered clearing the coffee table.

Daniel Craig’s crotch is at eye level. We tell him he is wily, he bobs a curtsey.

Oh for fuck’s sake this could go on forever, and there’s a Eurovish party with our name all over it. We bum here (8), here (9) and here (10). And here (11), but that’s a whole other story.

*Iam Fleming literary estate calls; asks us to pen latest thrilling Bond novel; we accept, with provisos*

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According to the Daily Cunt, this is Sienna Miller’s ‘chic new hairstyle’

It's a revolution.

*brushes hair behind ear; sends out press release*

This, however, is Hugh Jackman with a banana. Now we’re talking. (more…)

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Vatican’s what? (We took the liberty of adding an apostrophe. Unless there’s more than one Vatican. Those cunts are wily after all.)

Hmmmmn, inneresting.

Some retard will be screaming, ‘Blasphemy! Blasphemy! They’ve all got it in for me!’

Mmmmmmm, blasphemy’s fun… (more…)

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The one on the right is no longer bumming the one on the left. If the one on the right would just stop being so rude, we could see his balls.

Oi, Jen! Your hat matches your drink!


This story is about Jenson Button, who is no longer with his girlfriend.

Oh, that was short.

According to Source, ‘the logistic took their toll.’


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Step away from the midget…

Kylie's out of control.

Continuing his big gay assault on anything that doesn’t move, Louie Spence took his big gayness to the SATC2 premiere in London’s glittering Central London last night and lept on Kylie off-of Dannii Minogue. He even wore eyeliner for the occasion. We even looked the other way.

Lisa Snowdon, Emma Baby Bunting Spice and some bird off Hollyoaks were also there.

All the greats.

As was Penny Lancaster.

All the mister-sisters.

As was Peaches Geldof.

All the munters.

Would. You like. Another. Picture? It’s of all ‘the girls’.

*screams, ‘I love shoes, me!’* (more…)

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