I have always hated the fat-arsed bones of Vanessa Feltz, and watching this celebrity edition of Wife Swap has only cemented my opinion of her. What a rancid wank-stain she absolutely is.
For those who missed it, Feltz and her fiancé; Ben something from Phats and Small (who looks like a missing Fashanu – Awooga!), traded places with Paul Daniels and the allegedly ‘lovely’ (where’s the evidence?) Debbie McGee.
Whenever I watch Wife Swap, celebrity or otherwise, by halfway through I have decided which couple I prefer. Sometimes it’s a tough call, because the couples are usually so extreme in their belief systems that it’s hard to relate to either of them.
After having watched the trailer for this show though, I had already made my mind up about whose side I would be on, if things should snowball into a to squabble to the death.
In this case, I would happily be the one to beat the Feltz creature about the face, neck and head with a chainsaw.
Within ten minutes of the show Ben Fashanot is giving the viewers a much needed reminder of exactly who he is (although I’m still not sure) by singing his song ‘Turn Around’. This appears to be the only song he’s ever done and is the only reference to his ‘success’ in the whole programme. As I recall, Turn Around was on an album called ‘Now Phats what I Small music’ which is frankly, a laughable title, but not as amusing as the fact that a couple of years back, I saw the album wallowing pathetically in the bowels of bargain basket of a music shop for 99p. Ha.
Meanwhile the mild mannered Daniels, (a warped and aged Louis Walsh) seemed fair enough. I really expected him and Debbie McGee (an anorexic swan) to irritate me more than they did, but to be honest, they didn’t. Ok they’re a bit sad and pointless, but thoroughly inoffensive, which is more than can be said for the hateful Feltz and her wretched disciples.
Despite being disturbed by the very sight of Feltz alone, the most blood-curdling moments came when we were subjected to the utterly evil image of the Fashanot and the vulgar Feltz passionately kissing. I use the term ‘kissing’ loosely, because what I was seeing was a scene devoid of anything resembling romance and would have looked more at home in a Wes Craven effort. They were chewing each others fucking mouths off. At this point I was this close to sticking safety pins in my eyes. That or changing the channel.
Feltz, who looks like the bastard love-child of Rodney Dangerfield and tub of margarine, is a woman so monstrously repulsive, that if I was trapped on a desert island with her as my only company, I would immediately despatch her, subsequently opting to starve to death rather than use her as a source of food, not only because I would feel unclean for the rest of my days, but also through the fear that I may inadvertently absorb some of her soul. Mind you, I could use her bloated carcase as a kind of boat. But would I want to? Even if I were trapped in a lift with the grotesque ape and was somehow assured that we would be rescued within twenty minutes, I would still have to eradicate her for the sake of my own sanity.
To be serious for a second, I’m no psychologist, but it’s clear that this woman is mentally unstable and not at all comfortable with her own inner self. When she went to the Daniels’ residence and was faced with the opportunity of two weeks of quiet contemplation and relaxation in the country, she went up the wall.
She clearly needs to keep herself busy all the time in order to escape her own thoughts. (Remember when she went nuts on Celebrity Big Brother?)
You could tell her that her dog had just died but she would still have the same awkward grin etched across her ugly chops
All I can say is that I wish Daniels had sawn her in half a couple of times and then made her contemptuous body parts magically disappear.