Posts Tagged ‘Porn’

NewsGush – Marsh vs Price

August 28, 2008

According to some guff on the GMTV website, Jodie Marsh – glamour model and ‘TV Personality’ – suffered bullying at school because of her nose.

Jodie Marsh revealed on GMTV this morning she was cruelly called ‘plastic face’ at school after having a nose-job.

Talking on the breakfast TV show about the increase in teenagers having plastic surgery as a result of bullying, the glamour model admitted that after she underwent cosmetic surgery at the age of 15 – she was bullied at school even more.

“I did have a nose job because of the bullying – because they made me feel so embarrassed and ashamed and ugly and hideous about it” said Jodie.

“I don’t think surgery is an answer to bullying, certainly not. Because my bullying then got worse after I had my nose done because then they started calling me ‘plastic face’, or ‘don’t stand in the sun – you’ll melt.’But I felt better, I felt absolutely amazing afterwards.”

What she doesn’t say is that she originally fucked up that very nose by playing Hockey at Brentford School, where she was privately educated.

Anyhoo, she claims to have had plastic surgery on said hooter at 15 after being bullied about and it was following the surgery that the bullying got worse. She was called ‘plastic nose’, heaven forefend! Sounds like her tormenters were as imaginative as the tormented.

In fairness to Marsh she’s always moaned about being bullied, Celebrity Big Brother viewers were privy to a disgraceful and completely unwarranted attack on her by cunts Barrymore and Burns precisely because she was ‘Jodie Marsh’ and the result is the nightmare we witness shoving its bum into the photographer’s lens every time someone releases so much as an eggy guff.

Anyone can see that under that nose and make-up and wotnot is a deeply insecure person who feels the need to put it about a bit in order to be adored. In addition to the growing collection of dreadful tattoos, she’s had her tits done now – something she vowed never to do – and just about any other bit of cosmetic reconstruction on the menu. Why? Because she’s insecure and fame hungry in a way that takes precedence over money.

She can offer the world nothing, yet like Jordan (who seems to have succeeded in achieving vast sums of wealth by manipulating the press and public alike) desperately keeps trying to force herself into the public eye by wearing as little as possible.

Unlike Jordan, though, she’s despised way out of context for what she’s actually done. She’s not invaded Poland has she? Or, more pertinently, she’s not leaked a sex video. She doesn’t wave her clout about in public, she doesn’t pretend to write fucking books about Donkeys, she chooses instead to dress like a trollop and involve herself at the lowest possible echelon of tabloid TV. In this respect she shares that gem-paste tiara with Jordan, except Marsh only exploits herself. She leaves her family, disabled children et al out of it.

In a way we can see Jodie as a feminist, unlike Jordan who seems to have become a fucking role model for little girls -and in my opinion poses much more of a danger to the psyche of the younger generation of females by muddling up sex, pink ponies and wealth. Men and women seem to despise Marsh without prejudice and while the likes of Callum Best stalk the paparazzi, I’m not entirely sure why.

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How To Have Sex After Marriage

October 18, 2007

Bride and groom 

Last night I got drunk. Not only did this result in me taking my better half’s keys with me to work by mistake, locking her in the flat like some possessive psychopath and ruining her morning, it also meant that I watched this rubbish last night while round at my mate’s hovel. The subsequent review might be tarnished by my wobbly view and the Grolsch windscreen I watched it through.

From what I could gather, a married couple sat about and suffered an interview situation where three ‘experts’ (Christ alone knows what they’re experts in) assessed their problems. The first test of their relationship seemed simplistic to the power of a bajillion. They scored one another on big flip-pads out of ten on three fronts: interestingness, looks and sexual attraction.

Problems, for me, kick in at this point. For a start, Channel 5 are actively grinding years of marriage guidance counselling into a five minute sequence in which a hapless couple of berks, usually working in marketing or PR, make tits of themselves with magic markers on an almost-unwatched terrestial channel. Also – if they get a mark of five or lower for more than two of the three topics, are as yet unmarried and without offspring – surely the best advice is to tell them to split the fuck up? Being with someone you find boring and don’t fancy seems to be a bit of a pointless exercise, and no amount of televised activity is likely to help. You’d need a brainwasher to aid the situation, not a two-bit Channel 5 ‘expert’. It riles me, this rubbish, it really does.

They marked each other and didn’t get above five for any of the criteria, had a little cry then were separated for a week. It was in their week apart that we watched them find themselves with an expert each.

First up, the bloke did some manly things to assert his inner-bear. He swang from trees like a monkey, climbed a ladder and did other physical things, all whilst bizarrely sporting a leather jacket. Clearly image comes before performance in his worldview. The fact that he looked like a flabby Ian Beale is clearly beside the point. Obviously, any manliness he felt he’d built up from all this was kind of absorbed and spoilt by the fact that he admitted, on television, that he is completely squashed like a wingless gnat beneath his lady’s domineering thumb, the ponce.

In order to rid herself of her violent oppressive tendencies, his no-longer-beloved spent a bit of time learning how to be submissive (believe me, it’s not worth saying ‘ooer’ – she didn’t put on a French maid’s outfit or anything). The process entailed making dinner for an actor and being polite to him for a WHOLE afternoon. Bound to reverse an entire personality disorder, eh? She then went and tried on some lingerie with a woman who, if she didn’t have fake jubblies, definitely had a VERY supportive bra. Tits and thumb-woman swished around in the pants department of a rubbish shop and looked like they were as clueless as to what anything in the universe actually meant as the viewer was.

Finally, the couple went on their reconciliatory date after their obligatory established-reality-television-process makeovers. These makeovers were wholly unsuccessful, I ought to add, with the girl ending up looking like a flamenco dancer who’d let herself go and him resembling a randy 80s undertaker. When they kissed, I myself was almost reunited with the premium strength lager I’d poured onto an empty belly, in the form of sick. They snogged like truanting children, tongues flapping about and lips slobbering all over one another’s filtrum.

They said the sex that followed was ‘explosive’ in the final wrap-up, marking each other around the ‘8’ and ‘9’ mark in all criteria, not realising that this could only really be very much a temporary restoration of their relationship’s spark. Seeing as they were separated for a week and talked solidly about sex for those seven days, they were bound to have had a fumble. The pressure was immense – if they’d have bottled it and spent the night sexless they’d seem even more ridiculous than they already did. And on the telly n’all.

Really, judging by the way they dribbled over each other and fumbled and tugged during the snogging scene, they really need to look at their technique, above all else. Doctor Swineshead wouldn’t have bothered with the makeover, manliness training or lingerie shopping. He’d have prescribed hardcore, European SEXPORN to mend their ways. Watch and learn kiddies.

They’d be taking part in group DPs and experimenting with glory holes in no time, the slags.