Published on September 1st, 2009 | by Lisa McInerney18
Surreptitiously reading Heat, so you don’t have to.
Anyone else like a bit of fluffy celebrity gossip with their cuppa? Ever been frightened by the “culture” part of pop-culture? Do you know more about Jordan, the Boobmeister, than Jordan, that gaff in the Middle East? No? Er … me neither. No. This whole gossip column thing for culch.ie is part of my community service, alright? Although I must say that there’s something vaguely comforting about indulging in a bit of frothy nonsense from time to time – after all, if there’s anything that will make you feel a little more cultured, it’s knowing that somewhere out there, a celebrity is making a twat of themselves. On with the slapstick, then!
The X-Factor is back on our screens with a celebrated new format … in Dannii Minogue’s forehead. Yup, The One Who Isn’t Cheryl has claimed she’s fed up of looking like a painted egg and would like to branch into some facial expressions this year. She needn’t bother, let’s face it; Cheryl Cole’s professional emoting cannot be improved upon. Honestly, the woman’s been moved more times than the average bowel. Most skinnies stuff their bras with toilet roll; I suspect Cheryl enhances her assets with peeled onions.
Dannii has also said that she believes Simon Cowell looks down on God, which she finds “incredibly exciting”. And while I agree that Simon Cowell is just the right side of arrogant, I don’t agree with going around calling Louis Walsh “God.” Far from God he was reared. In Mayo.
The Incredible Shrinking The Incredible Expanding The Just Plain Incredible Kerry Katona is having an equally exciting time, though for much less ludicrous reasons. After confirming everyone’s snidest suspicions when she was filmed snorting cocaine, Kerry’s been dropped by Iceland as their “spokesmum”, was questioned by police, kicked her accountant’s door in, and even managed to raise the eyebrows of ex-husband Brian McFadden, who declared that the best hills were in Australia when he decided to run for them. Some reckon that Kerry’s husband, Mark Croft, is the source of all her woes; certainly the Sisterhood seem reluctant to believe that Kerry’s downfall was orchestrated only by herself. But as their on/off relationship still keeps Kerry in the public eye, can we expect to hear a lot more about pending divorce and tearful reconciliation? We have a word for the likes of Mark Croft in Cork. Langball. No point telling Kerry, though, for fear she’d read Langball for Speedball, and consume poor Mark, bones and all.
Meanwhile, Stateside, Chris Brown has claimed that he can’t remember beating up ex-girlfriend Rihanna back in February. Although he’s also claimed that he was distraught afterwards. How disorienting must it be to feel distraught and not know why? Bouts of amnesia can be pretty horrific, alright. Poor lamb.
Of course, where would I be without mentioning the latest Michael Jackson news? Never mind the fact that his death has been ruled as homicide, setting a disturbing precedent for witch-hunts after overdoses and other acts of supreme stupidity, but now it’s been suggested that Macaulay Culkin is the biological father of Michael’s youngest child … er … “Blanket”. And somehow, everyone seems surprised by this nugget. Hasn’t this rumour been around longer than Twink at this stage? And who really cares who donated what for the creation of Jackson’s uber-brood? Unless it turns out that the children have actually been sewn together from the body parts of the rich and the heinous, you’re unlikely to find me giving half a toss. See what I did there? Half a toss? No? Oh, forget it.
And flying the Irish flag for daft carry-on, this week Glenda Gilson bought a Lir jet and flew the Billie Barry kids into the Atlantic.
Alright, so I made that bit up. Let’s face it, the Irish celebrities haven’t been very interesting lately. The most intriguing snippet I’ve read involved Noirin from Big Brother being photographed at two events wearing the same dress. If there’s one thing I’d ask, as a pitiable noob here on culch.ie, it’s that you all go out and antagonise a local dignitary as soon as possible, so I have something to write about next week. Just don’t tell them I sent you; that community service is just about as long as I can take.