Ooh, haven’t done the old full-stops-in-sentences-to-denote-horror thing for a while…
Back to the delight that is Christina Aguilera’s Beverly Hills home, which is less full of just gorgeous things than full of tat from Blackpool Pleasure Beach. Before the drunk Glaswegians have bought up all the good stuff.
It’s up for sale for $13.5million. It’s the one that used to belong to the Osbournes. We’re not proud or anything, but we have been there. It’s, you know, a house, full of shit, on a street. Lovely neighbours, mind. When you have bring boys back from West Hollywood for an all-night pool party, they call the police and everything. Wouldn’t get that in Muswell Hill.
We’re not lying, though, when we say we literally don’t know where to start. We thought the black diaphanous curtains with crimson stripes would be a good place – very chic, very whorey – but then we saw, you know, everything else. There’s even fluff, stuck down on the floor, without even a whiff of irony. And the sort of sofas you scoff at in DFS adverts with the devastating put-down, ‘Who would buy that shit?’
To give Christina some credit, the colour scheme is not dissimilar to what we requested for our bedroom when we were eleven. Before our mother slapped some gay into us. And they say violence doesn’t pay!
After the break you will find another candid shot of Christina’s glittering LA home. At which point we will love you, leave you, feel you… There’s a drink somewhere round here with our name all over it.
*bobs a curtsey*
Literally. Don't know. Where. To start.,