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‘He’s not exactly rugged, is he?’ And you’re not exactly making us froth at the fanny either, love.

It's all about the towel.

Meet Alice Swanepoel, no relation to Through The Looking Glass.

Alice Swanepoel has been unlucky in love.

*some shite song by The Cranberries plays*

Unlucky In Love Alice Swanepoel thought to herself one day, whilst reaching down to fasten her caramel kitten heels (not too sexy!), ‘What the fuck, I’m gonna get myself a nice, rich, older man. Why? Because I’m hot, I have non-slip tiles, and I deserve it!’

And by jove doesn’t she!

So Unlucky In Love Alice Swanepoel decided to join Because why go out for crumpet when you can call in! (more…)

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Joe ‘I’m not gay’ McElderry has come out as *checks notes* gay!

Which is the gay one?

Joe McElderry, the dolly with the teeth who won X Factory (did he win? We can’t actually remember and only have the one hand free) who swore deaf, blind and anally he wasn’t a big ol’ gay, has decided that *looks down pants* yes, he is indeed a big ol’ gay. One of the ones that bums.

Well, we hate to say told you so, but told you so, with a big fucking glacé cherry on top (and a dusting of Hundreds & Thousands). What was with the lying, hmmmn? Your gayness went round bends, for baby Jesus’s sake.

Apparently, Joe McElderbush only came out after his Twitter account was hacked (who’d bother?) by some lame twats who outed him as a joke.

‘I have always been a very honest person and so it is important for me to continue to be honest,’ says the big gay.

*looks up ‘honesty’*

‘There has been speculation about my sexuality in the past,’ he continued. Has there?

‘… and I have always been honest at the time I have been asked.’

*looks up ‘honesty’ again; reads; rubs eyes; reads*

‘I think the Twitter thing was the point when I realised I was gay.’


*hacks into own Twitter account; writes, ‘You are gay and number three on the Times Rich List’; comes out, richly*

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This Tom Hardy hullabaloo…

Love. Him. Hard.

Isn’t hullabaloo a nice word? It sounds like ‘hull’ and ‘a’ and ‘baloo’ said in that order, really quickly. The English language really is lovely… *sings Land of Hope and Glory*

Anyway, this Tom Hardy business. The whole world has got The Clap over the fact that he has admitted, in an interview, that he’s done stuff with blokes. Well hoo and ray and give it to me, Daddy spring to mind, but more importantly we thought it our duty to step in at this juncture, owing to the fact that – and we blame the Daily Mail – the interview has indeed been misquoted (who knew that could happen! Who? You?) and Tom isn’t a fully-fledged Mykonos-going, Clueless-watching, early works of Lisa Stansfield-listening homosexual – he’s just all those things without being a homosexual. And for that we drop trou’ and bow down to him and everything. For, and this may come as news to people who drive white vans, straight men are not necessarily macho cunts.

Oh, and he’s done stuff with blokes. Who hasn’t? Just ask anyone in a white van.

Oh and also, if it wasn’t for the fact that our inbox has been rammed to within an inch of its hymen these last couple of days with messages like, ‘That Tom Hardy interview… rather familiar. Am I wrong? Am I right? Does this belt go with this hair?’ we wouldn’t have thought it high time and cocktail hour to put the record straight – or at least bi-curious – and say why yes indeedy, the interview masquerading as a Now exclusive is indeed Attitude’s interview from a year-and-a-half ago. Ask us why we know this, and we’ll pass you a Holly Hobbie note-lette with the answer. There will be a heart above both i’s.


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Is this the first openly gay football player in the English Premiership? We certainly hope so *licks lips, applies Vaseline to eyelashes*

Dodgy tattoo!

His name is Xisco, he is off-of Spanish, he has a very dodgy tattoo and he has been snapped snogging off the faces of gents. But like a lot.

So we choose to believe he is a gay. In fact we’re having a coming out party for him as we speak. In our pants, at any rate.

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Just wondering how much more room there is in the cup cake market and how many more daffy girls are going to set up cup cake businesses with a best friend and start selling to Selfridges. Just wondering. Idly.


And we’ll tell you this for one thing, if we have to read another story about a long-haired, middle-class woman in her late 20s early 30s who has left behind a promising career in styling/fashion writing/shagging merchant bankers in the hope one will ask her to marry him to set up a cup cake business with her best friend in Grazia/Stylist/Stoopid Girl Weekly, we are going to squeeze something very hard until it doesn’t work anymore.

Now, we need a lie down with a cup of fresh leaf mint tea and a fairy cake.

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Gags has been VF-ed!

That's Lady Miss GaGa to you!

It’s rare that Vanity Fairy put a music star on the cover. Oh, yes it is. It is, we tell you. *fingers in ears* is is is is is is is is is.

They put movie stars or vintage Americans like Jackie O (no, not the club down Mykonos, the late ex-First Lady) and Grace Kelly and John F. Kennedy and some other Kennedys. Occasionally, it might be a Princess Diana.

But here is Gags, with grey nail varnish. Surely her most shocking outfit to date!

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Pyjama party? At Paramount? Only if we can bring Manky Bear.

Bottoms and chins up!

Whilst many will think this is French and Saunders’s latest parody of Kylie and Dannii Minogue – the first, of course, being the prophetic Lucky Bitches – it is in fact the picture we are using to illustrate our story about Circus’s Pyjama Party.

Pyjama Party you say? Surely it can’t be done!

Oh but it can. This Saturday-cum-Sunday morning (we once used ‘-cum-‘ in an article that was sent to an American editor who swiftly came back with the editorial equivalent of a kick up the cunt. ‘Cum? Cum? This isn’t Penthouse!’ But really) Jodie Harsh-cum-chums are down the ‘Mount for their monthly residency, and this time they’ve come over all sleepover-y. The good kind with boys ‘n’ stuff.

So, you know, like, naked Twister and shots of Pitron and bedtime stories with Scottee and go-go dancers and DJ sets from Filthy Dukes, Kris di Angelis and Jodie Harsh and drag queen pillow fights and probably c) and d).

Any and The Who, it’s at Paramount on top of Centre Point tomorrow (Sat-cum-Sun), from 10pm till 4.30am; £11 in advance from here, £10 in advance from Unconditional, 16 Monmouth Street, London’s glittering Covent Garden – or 15 smackers on the door. (more…)

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We’re not sure yellow is her colour

Not afraid of colour. Should be.

Ooh, wait a minute… Something, just, oh, wait…

*colour and movement*

So we decided to light a Scented C this morning – we’re living the life, don’t hate us – next thing you know, thud, wax everywhere, hind legs of Noodle the cat seen skidding out the door, words are had, fingers and paws are pointed, Noodle denies everything.

*colour and movement*

So, Mischa Barton. Right?

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