Posts filed under 'Silly Bint of the Month'
From the moment I set eyes on her there has not been a part of me that hasn’t either shivered in disgust or mentally thrown up. Christine Bleakley represents the part of the celebrity world who appeared out of nowhere and hasn’t really justified her existance yet.
Do we need her? I suppose if you ask Adrian Chiles for his expert opinion, and that’s expert in the loosest sense of the word, he would conclude we did having spent many an evening flirting with her on the set of ‘The One Show’, the vacuous light entertainment show which continues to limp across television sets across the country. This is not a chance to set up awful BB shows though; there will come a time and place for everything. However you look at Bleakley she just comes across as smug and empty, like a Toby jug. You could crack open her head and there’d be enough space in there for a Harrier Jump Jet. You could probably use her body as a sled over Christmas and she wouldn’t notice, unless she was missing a date with Frank Lampard.
So they both continue to filter on-screen stupidity in Daybreak, ITV’s replacement for GMTV. The only valid reason for its existance is to provide an outlet for Jonathan Ross’ band ‘Four Poofs and a Piano’ now that his ‘Friday Night with Jonathan Ross’ program is finished.
I doubt that she will ever rise in my estimations. I don’t like thinking badly of people (heh heh) but there are some that you just cannot put up with and she firmly remains one of these. I’d sooner train a bear to maul me than spend five minutes in her company.
September 14th, 2010
It would be far too easy to plump this feature up with the whole of the England squad or something like that (France possibly?) but quite frankly I’m not one to jump on any bandwagons, unless they’re playing the sweetest songs through the tinniest horns.
Sarah Jessica Parker is up in front and running since another astonishing smug and awful film version of SATC came out at the cinema. Gone is the ravishing young lovely who graced the screens with Steve Martin in LA Story and Nicolas Cage in Honeymoon in Vegas replaced by the sands of time with what was described as a “transvestite donkey witch” by a close friend. Fair enough, both of those films were almost twenty years gone but what has she done since then? Apart from Mars Attacks! not a lot.
Do you like awful romantic comedys? Lucky, as Parker has them in spades. Shall we go for the excrutiating ‘Failure to Launch’, the devestatingly bad ‘Did You Hear About the Morgans?’ or my personal favourite ‘Dudley Do-Right’?There’s a film that’s at the top of my wish list. Yep, right up there. I hope you’re all listening as I’m expecting a copy for Christmas.
If SATC was actually funny, actually entertaining and actually smart then I’m sure everyone would want to go and see it, not just women. But as the collective IQ of the creators of the series seems to have dropped off the scale there’s no point. You may as well stick your face in a fan. I wonder if there will be many people from the internet finding this and rushing to defend Miss Parker.
I welcome the challenge 🙂
June 21st, 2010
This should have come sooner, but it didn’t. Technically it counts as two given that this is a blatant attack on both the spawn of Billy Ray Cyrus and the piece of sh*t show she stars in. For all those SBM purists out there I do apologise but it had to be done.
Where do we start? Hannah Montana shouldn’t exist. It does and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Since appearing it has been capitvating naive little children for the last three years, sort of like High School Musical. I tried researching the show on Wikipedia to add fury to my flames and there’s nothing there. There’s no description of what actually happens, what the whole point of the show is. It merely talks about production, awards and how many series novelisations have been written. Put a little time aside to read the episode summary though, especially the episode where Hannah Montana entertains the Queen of Britain and her grandaughter. I can almost hear the rubbish English accents grating through the wind…
Ever heard ‘Achey Breaky Heart’ by Billy Ray Cyrus? It was because of him that line dancing took off, or so modern history books lead you to believe. From this came the child of Cyrus. If only Bill Hicks were here he’d know what to do. Aside from the whole pulling a face to insult the entire Chinese community of the world, aside from her baffling comments about same sex marriage, her music is a pile of f*cktards. Here’s some lovely lyrics from ‘Hoedown’ that you can all sing along to:
“Pop it, lock it, polka dot it, country-fy it, then hip hop it.
Put your hawk in the sky, move side to side, jump to the left, stick it glide.”
Put your hawk in the sky? Stick it glide? Clearly she’s never read a dictionary nor knows much about the English language. And people were sh*tting themselves about playing heavy metal records backwards in the 80’s. Backwards or forwards these lyrics don’t make sense at all. If I heard my son singing this I’d think he was having a fit.
Think about it kids; do you want to be represented by someone who has to dress up to gain popularity? As far as I can see the show seems to promote deception, lying and awful, awful music. There’s only one way forward. Kill her off and re-invent her as a cyborg from the future with a bandana and some Kraftwork covers. Hannah Bandana. Get it?
July 21st, 2009
I suppose dear Alesha could also fall under ‘She’s Fit (but the musics shit)’, the almost forgotten distant cousin of ‘SBOTM’. I’m not one for attacking sacred cows, nor am I one for attacking any sort of cows. In fact if I was to attack any animal the cow wouldn’t be on the list it’s just that despite coming across as a geniunely nice person she’s really beginning to boil my piss.
No, that’s wrong. She has been for a while. It’s that same age old predicament; successful or semi successful British Girl / Boy Band split up, usually after two years or more (see Blue, Five, Busted etc) and everyone has a pop shot at solo careers. I could spend a whole article just detailing how wrong Blue were and that their impending come back is as welcome as a spitoon in the face. As soon as Mis-Teeq hit the ropes I knew one of them would try and surprisingly it was the weird rapping one with the man voice. She has a go with the career (‘Lipstick’ single at No. 14, ‘Knockdown’ at No. 45), doesn’t get very far because everyone stop caring and gets dropped from her label.
Then mother buggering celebrity dancing shows came along and all of a sudden it was as if someone had flung open the doors to all the minor, vomit-inducing idiots you’d forgotten about. They’d make a pratt out of themselves just to be on television again. Do we blame them? Of course not, it’s money, there’s a financial crisis, they need to pay for their nip tuck or face tuck or whatever the fuck it is that they do to make them still look at though they’re young and hip from 1985.
Alesha wins some dancing competition and someone offers her another record deal. This means two things: 1) everyone is forced to listen to cringe-inducing sexist overtones of ‘The Boy Does Nothing’ for months while it lingers in the charts like a bad fart and 2) she’s unfortunately back in the public eye. It’s a simple fact love, if the boy does nothing, right, if he doesn’t wash up or clean up or do anything, right, you know what you do? You sling the git, that’s what you do. You don’t jiggle your ass on a stage and complain about it. I mean if a guy wrote a song about how crap his girlfriend was most people would be outraged. It would probably be banned and condoned by Parliament.
What really summed it up for me was when she was performing on some charity-based event. It could have been Red Nose Day but I wasn’t paying that much attention. She was promoting her new single ‘Let’s Get Excited’ and, well, despite her singing and dancing and smiling for all her worth ironically the audience looked as though excitement was the last thing on their mind after hearing how awful the song was.
And calling the album ‘The Alesha Show’? Shudder, shudder.
June 17th, 2009
Scotland is very good at producing glum rock bands. At the very cheeriest end are bands like the Fratellis, who have a vague sheen* of upbeat cheeriness but actually have no real substance to them anyway. Nothing they say means anything. In the middle of the scale are bands like Del Amitri who have a superficial sing-along niceness but are ultimately quite maudlin and have something of a victim complex.
The other end of the scale – the very crowded end – is where the rest of the bands go. Idlewild and Ultravox and all that. Glasvegas are currently squatting at the darkest corner of that spectrum, frowning and grunting at passers-by.
Glasvegas are really a modern-day Ultravox: pompous, pretentious, deeply miserable and with a very acute sense of their own importance. Their “wall of sound” (for which read, “big noisy tuneless background that is the same in every song”) gives every tuneless wail the same relentlessly funereal atmosphere of annoyance.
The lead singer, with his bouffant hair (Morrissey circa 1989) and too-cool-for-this-shit attitude (Midge Ure circa all his life) makes him particularly ripe for binthood, and I recommend that he is the bintiest bint of this month, with other band members in a secondary bint status.
In short: Glasvegas = major net loss.
* Buff to sheen.
February 22nd, 2009
It’s time to look back now at some of the silly bints from past gone days of old. Today’s history lesson comes courtsy of a man who was once named ‘Italy’s most well dressed hick’ Mr Vivaldi Conosucus.
Time has over shadowed his important in one of the great disasters of the then modern and now old times. Many think that when Mount Vesuvius erupted it was because it wanted to. Recent findings have come across an altogether different account. Apparently Mr Conosucus was having a picnic at the very peak of the volcano by himself because his sister, Henrietta, was off having a song written by the Fratellis about her. He was in the middle of a packet of custard creams when a moistened chipmunk popped up from the ground, frightening the young man and consequently knocking a cucumber into the heated vat of doom. And doom it was, for minutes later the volcano burst forth with hot, lava juices, destroying the nearby cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum and knocking over a lemonade stand.
Vivaldi escaped by the skin of his teeth by selling it to a old man in exchange for a pair of wings. He was last seen trying to invent a dance using only his trousers.
April 28th, 2008
Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements, even if they lead nowhere?
This is the question posed by up-and-coming much-hyped London-based soul-diva-to-be cliché-strewn Silly Bint, Adele, in one of her stupid songs. In it, she is asking a rhetorical question to do with some sort of nonsense about chasing pavements.
You see, I understand that, in this post-Amy Winehouse world, record companies are looking at the success of the drug-addled bint who we spurned and decked last month and are searching for more acts who sound like 60s motown/soul singers. I understand that once you have one thing that is a bit different and very successful, there will soon be many more copying the style.
Adele’s binthood is not based on that fact alone (though believe me, it contributes to it). No, what I object to is the fact that she has to be one of them. Her voice is bad. For gods sake, get some Lemsip down you love, your vocal chords are cracking up and at this rate you’ll lose your voice. That’s not nice to listen to. Her songs all sound like they’ve been factory-produced by a record company too, carefully designed to make that old-style-soul sound and way over-produced. I have had enough of this kind of shite filling the world with its meaningless noise. Chasing pavements? What is that, anyway?
This month I nearly selected Duffy, who is much the same, and who was in the same year as me at university. One of the key things that annoys me about her is that most of the people I went to uni with remember her, and I don’t think I met her. But her voice isn’t as annoying as Adele’s.
Also, why don’t these people have surnames? How are you supposed to look them up in the phone book? Mm, that’ll do for now. And relax.
February 11th, 2008
Oh yeah, I’ve been working up to this one *cracks his knuckles* for what seems like ages. I don’t really even need to touch on any sort of fact because deep down there has always been a strong hatred towards her in my loins. My loins remember the days when she was pretty unknown and was striving to sell any records and then all of a sudden that f*cking awful ‘Rehab’ song and bam, suddenly she’s everyone’s favourite British female singer. I don’t see what the appeal is especially when she seems to have taken on the trend of Pete Docherty and whilst letting her health slip is disappointing fans by not turning up for gigs. She’s not a very good role model considering she’s been arrested for possession of drugs and if she’s not in the newspapers for changing her hair colour it’s for more things to do with drugs or some sort of feud.
I’m sure she’s a lovely girl but quite frankly (pardon the joke there, unintended) she should disappear somewhere for a while, let everything calm down and come back. The cynic in me though says to drive her off the cliff in the same bus as James Morrison, Mika and Paolo Nutini.
January 23rd, 2008
I hate him. At least with Kirsten Dunst and Nigella Lawson there was a slight intoxicating whiff of some sort of appreciation in there (for ‘Eternal Sunshine’ and her nips respectively) but he’s got no redeeming features. His last single involved him running in the video and, surprise surprise, his new ones has a bit of running too. People who have simple rhymes like ‘stupid’ and ‘cupid’ and ‘devotion’ and ‘potion’ just make my skin crawl. It’s up there with James Blunt-style cringiness.
Plus the way he sings is down with Kate Nash as irritating beyond belief. “Let’s over pronounce everything because we’re from darn sarth and we need to show it!” Fat chance. Just another artist championed by idiots like NME who are desperate for another singer songwriter to try and write about our generation when really all he comes across as is being a bit of a d*ck.
“She never wanted me…” do you blame her, mate?
December 6th, 2007
It would be easy for me to sit here and dismiss Nigella Lawson as the lemon-cooking, denim-jacket-wearing, sh*t-talking toff that she is and I think seeing as I’ve nothing better to do I shall.
Audrey is quite fanatical about her recipes. I have tasted the gubbins and the gubbins were good although I think it had more to do with Auds rather than the original chef. Nigella lives with her non-existant husband in what can only be described as the biggest house in Christendom. Her larder is bigger than our entire kitchen. her daily life consists of taking taxis to and from Sainsburys before going home, cooking for five minutes (it’s called ‘Nigella Express’ after all) and then spending the rest of the day sitting smugly in front of her laptop. Smug doesn’t even come close actually. She is unparalled in her smugness almost to the point where I’d rather eat tulips than check to see if her nipples are showing through whatever piece of fancy free she’s decided to cook in today.
Don’t you judge me!
Anyone who can say things like, “modestly bulging crescents” and, “glorious mounds” clearly needs a huge slap around the chops with the biggest loin in reach. Please, anyone within spitting distance, this would be gratefully appreciated.
November 5th, 2007
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