Starting from the left and working rightwards, we have Louise ‘We dream abou’ i” Redknapp, a greige towel, then Christine ‘jaw’ Bleakley, the woman whose vowels will be stripping the gums off your teeth each and every morning on GMTV from soon-ish, at a cost of several million pounds – which at least makes talented people on the breadline feel really good about themselves.
Louise Redknapp, not content with being the shit one in a shit girl band a while back, and starring in one of the most irritating adverts of all time that made people want to remove the plasma off their plasmas and slice their throats with it, and being and the wife of a very rich man who is in turn the son of an even richer man (they live on Sandbanks for Christ’s Saké!) and therefore in a position to let someone who deserves it get the gig, is now the co-presenter on Something For The Weekend, a show we’re forced to watch on Sunday because it’s either that or horse racing or cars going round in circles or popping over to London’s newest gay bar, Columbia Road Flower Market.
Louise Redknapp née Nurding nay Nurdlings, has a presenting style that can only be described as ‘almost dead’. Her delivery has all the torpor of someone still in bed, under their duvet, chewing their hair, someone’s thumb stuck up her arse, barely able to utter the words, ‘Bacon sarnie, plea….’.
But silver linings… at least she’s not Tim ‘I love football, me’ Lovejoy, who is not only an utter cunt, but really likes football. He likes football, he’s an utter cunt, and is completely oblivious to 75% of his show’s demographic. Oh, and while we’re at it, the cook fella… Simon Rimmer, that’s it. *giggles, rimming…* Less of the figure-hugging tops. Though his restaurant in Didsbury, Manchesterford is really rather good. Vegetarian. ‘Greens’. Dead good.
And the point of this story? There’s a picture of Frank Lampard in the pool after the jump. *claps* As well as a truly. Awful. Advert. *boos*