Published on November 12th, 2009 | by Lisa McInerney7
Surreptitiously rifling through Robert Pattinson’s wheelie bin, so you don’t have to.
We all enjoy a bit of peace and quiet from time to time, don’t we? Nodding off in the armchair in front of Jonathan Woss, having a relaxing cuppa with half a Twix you found in the glove compartment, a gentle stroll along the seaside with a gambolling labrador by your side and Enya playing on your iPod. Or whale song. I can’t tell the difference. All of these are appropriate ways to indulge your inner hermit. But did you know that whenever you enjoy those stolen, golden moments, you’re honouring that unfortunate distance between your reality, and that of the rich and famous? This may not worry you; you may never want to be … er … smeared by the paps, or impregnated by Jude Law, or parodied by Katy Brand. But if you’re the kind of miserable twonk who wants nothing less from life than your very own wardrobe assistant, you’re going to have to ignore the rules of action/reaction, or counting to ten before you say anything. Yes, today we’re going to explore the concept of knowing when to open your mouth and when to shut it again, and how no bona fide ‘slebrity has worked it out yet.
Britney, for one, had a terrible problem this week with making any noise at all, and in the process managed to offend an entire continent.
Fans stormed out of her concert in Perth last Friday when it became obvious that the star was miming to most of her tracks. The range of related complaints ran from price comparisons between a Britney ticket and “four pairs of shoes”, to the fact that there were no big screens so fans in cheaper seats couldn’t tell whether or not it was, in fact, Britney miming, and not some hateful imposter hell-bent on ripping that fragile career to shreds. In a delightful twist, an Australian Minister for Fair Trading stepped in (not physically; she wasn’t waiting outside the venue or anything) and stated that perhaps there should be disclaimers on promotional material in the future, warning consumers that such concerts may be pre-recorded. So basically, it took a government minister to hammer home to these nunkies that where pop stars are expected to jive about the place like a remote-controlled bluebottle, they probably won’t have the lungspace to do a passable impression of a vocoder as well. Imagine the complaints had Britney gone with the most honest choice, and sat there eating chicken wings and y’alling for the entire show? Some people…
From knowing when to start to knowing when to stop, then. Joss Stone has been very talkative of late, not so much connecting with her fans, as running them down with the Bulldozer of Shouty Naivety. Earlier this week, the barefoot diva took a deceptively gentle swipe at Lily Allen, saying that young Lil’ was forced to complain about illegal downloading leaving her destitute, because, not being a real singer like Joss, no one would really bother to go and see her live. Dangerous words, when you’re up against someone as obnoxious as Lily, yet Joss lived to blab another day, for she was gibbering on about her drug intake in another interview before the week was out. “I think everyone smokes weed and people who say they don’t are lying,” she said, not sounding stoned out of her noggin AT ALL. Joss also shrugged through an admission of taking the “horrible, fun drugs” from time to time, and finished up with a nonchalant, “I’m just an honest person”. Advocating piracy? Slamming Lily? Fun drugs? Joss Stone is my new hero! However, taking into account that I’m a nasty begrudger who’ll go against popular opinion just to annoy my mammy, I’m probably not the best gauge of public reaction for Joss to keep an eye on. I’ll light a candle for her (that she may light a joint off).
From “just being honest” to forging an entire career out of slagging off the world and its offspring, it’s Mrs. Sharon Osbourne! What? You’d almost forgotten what she looked like too? Well, looks, or a lack of them, is what’s on Sharon’s mind these days, as she laid into Britain’s Got Talent sensation Susan Boyle on US radio, saying that while Susan is talented, there’s no denying she looks like “a slapped arse with a moustache” and “a hairy arsehole” and someone who God walloped with “a fucking ugly stick“. Charming, bringing God into things like that, especially after Sharon’s rejecting what He gave her and settling instead for Jaysus knows what artificial gizzards surgeons can shove into your cheek sacks these days. Personally, I’m very supportive of Susan Boyle’s shying away from the “Brothel Madam Barbie” look. Not that Susan knows whether or not I’m supporting her. Not that Susan knows whether or not Mrs. Osbourne is slagging her off, seeing as when asked t’other day what she thought of Sharon, her answer was a vague, “She’s very nice. A very nice lady.” To be translated as Wotever, Shazzers. No one’s listening.
I do hope no one’s listening to the whisperings from Camp Lindsay Lohan, who, according to leaked tapes of conversations between vampire mum Dina and vulture dad Michael, was secretly dating Heath Ledger when he died.
Hold on. Did I phrase that right? I don’t want it to come across like Lindsay was actually on site when Heath passed away, or that she only started dating him after he died, although looking at her profile and looking at his, that would seem the most plausible explanation for this news … I mean, Lindsay and Heath? Really? That’s like Peter Andre eloping with Meryl Streep; a disturbing concept, and one not at all likely to stand up to rational scrutiny. Still, I love that they were “secretly” dating; the only person who could, with any real authority, quash this rumour is dead. It’s like the perfect crime!
I wonder if Chris Brown bemoans that he might have committed the perfect crime, if only ex-girlfriend Rihanna, whom he battered black and blue in February of this year, had kept her trap shut. Rihanna gave a recent interview in which she broke her silence about the assault, spoke about her relationship with Brown, and expressed her desire to move on.
Brown has apologised numerous times since the attack, and did so again after Rihanna’s interview, but not until after he sulkily stated that “all of the details should remain a private matter between us”. That the clueless twat thinks he has any right to make demands on how Rihanna deals with the assault shows quite a dangerous level of delusion and head-up-arsery. It would definitely have been more sensitive of him to decline comment … but then, a man who bites his girlfriend’s fingers, chokes her, and threatens to kill her probably isn’t the most emotionally tuned-in young fella.
Maybe he should take a cue from Britney next time, and use his mouth only for breathing and the occasional Taco Fry. What a prannet.