The chronicles of Ruin, continued.
Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do.
Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here.
10 September 2009 22:59
Tuesday, 8 April 2014
THINGS YOU RARELY SEE.
SIR BOB CANNOT-SPEAK-BUT-ONLY-MAKE-PROCLAMATIONS GABSHITE.
NO COMMENT.
He'll probably make another shit record, won't he, the Saviour of the World, him and that AmyWinehouse father prat, together, when what they should have done is put the silly little tarts over their knees.
My late, very late father, mr alphons, raised me to believe that everyone in showbusiness was what he called a nancyboy; turns out they're often worse than that.
Jaysis tittyfucking Christ - somehow this had passed me by: she called her sons Astala (wha?) and Phaedra. Her sons. I mean, Dolly or Simone would be dodgy enough but an old Greek bird associated with all kindsa bad shit really takes the biscuit. I may be reading too much into it but who needs an evil fairy at the feast when you've got that shit on the birth certificate?
'Scool with me, mr dtp, I always, always hated that song, thought it in terribly bad taste. Hope he does now, too.
If I gave a flying fuck, mr verge, for what people might say about me when I'm dead and gone I might hope it would be something along the lines of Yeah, that mr ishmael, he always said there was no business like showbusiness and he was fucking right.
She was only aping her idiot father - Peaches, FiFi, Trixibell etc. Man's a cunt.
First his wife and now his daughter; you'd think this bullying prat'd just crawl away somewhere and shut the fuck up but Hark! I hear a gobby platitide or ten coming-on, man can't help himself.
Maybe he can dedicate the rest of his miserable life to holding Infamy's coat for him - aka Feeding The World.
Glanced at an obit just now and it turns out she had O.T.O. tattooed on her arm (in a heart-shape, how sweet.) I steer clear of that occult esoterica myself but anyone who thinks it's an edgy fashion accessory is double fucking barking. Poor cow.
And what does the Order of the Oriental Templars stand for? The "wisdom and knowledge" of, among many others, the Gnostic Catholic Church; the Rite of Memphis; the Order of the Sat Bhai; the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light; and the Illuminati.
Poor, rich cow, I would say, mr verge, yet in her tweetery roosted a hundred and thirty five thousand followers. I keep saying, That cunt Zuckerberg and the rest, they need hanging.
Did she have a chance, really, with that cock of a father and a rabid junkie slapper for a mother?
The father of her half-sister strangled himself whilst pleasuring himself, another junkie, another s'leb, albeit marginally more musically gifted than Bob, which isn't difficult.
Given a ridiculous name (besides Geldof, I mean), raised by an arrogant, talentless has-been, endlessly extending his shitty 'career' by skanking money out of gullible morons on the pretext of helping solving world hunger, which he hasn't, and seemingly utterly convinced of his own divinity, encouraged to think that she herself was divinely appointed to be a fashion icon, a teevee presenter, an artiste, ffs, without any apparent talent whatsoever, what chance did she have?
Sad. Sadder for her kids, left behind. They too, apparently, now to be raised by a dysfunctional 'musician' father, given the worst of starts in life after already being dealt the bum hand of having Nob Geldof as grandad. History may well repeat itself again, God forbid.
What chance have they got? Slim to none, and slim is saddling his horse.
Hasn't he already said as much, mrs woar, in so many words; probably bury the peachy one in the family cemetery; he has one, doesn't he, in his private estate, ah, with humble men such as he, how can there be hunger and poverty in the world?
Took the words right out of our mouths, mr vincent, apparently there were others of similar mien, over at the Guardian, but they were shut down, in the interests of the very best possible tast. Way back then I thought I was the only person in the world absolutely fucking enraged by LiveAid. But I don't think I was.
13 comments:
Fairy comes to mind.
My late, very late father, mr alphons, raised me to believe that everyone in showbusiness was what he called a nancyboy; turns out they're often worse than that.
Guess we know why Bob doesn't like Mondays.
No, no, that's not right, no... hee hee!
Jaysis tittyfucking Christ - somehow this had passed me by: she called her sons Astala (wha?) and Phaedra. Her sons. I mean, Dolly or Simone would be dodgy enough but an old Greek bird associated with all kindsa bad shit really takes the biscuit. I may be reading too much into it but who needs an evil fairy at the feast when you've got that shit on the birth certificate?
'Scool with me, mr dtp, I always, always hated that song, thought it in terribly bad taste. Hope he does now, too.
If I gave a flying fuck, mr verge, for what people might say about me when I'm dead and gone I might hope it would be something along the lines of Yeah, that mr ishmael, he always said there was no business like showbusiness and he was fucking right.
She was only aping her idiot father - Peaches, FiFi, Trixibell etc. Man's a cunt.
I suppose we always remind ourselves just how "special" and "precious" these people are.
First his wife and now his daughter; you'd think this bullying prat'd just crawl away somewhere and shut the fuck up but Hark! I hear a gobby platitide or ten coming-on, man can't help himself.
Maybe he can dedicate the rest of his miserable life to holding Infamy's coat for him - aka Feeding The World.
Glanced at an obit just now and it turns out she had O.T.O. tattooed on her arm (in a heart-shape, how sweet.) I steer clear of that occult esoterica myself but anyone who thinks it's an edgy fashion accessory is double fucking barking. Poor cow.
From a Guardian MediaFolks page a while back
And what does the Order of the Oriental Templars stand for? The "wisdom and knowledge" of, among many others, the Gnostic Catholic Church; the Rite of Memphis; the Order of the Sat Bhai; the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light; and the Illuminati.
Poor, rich cow, I would say, mr verge, yet in her tweetery roosted a hundred and thirty five thousand followers. I keep saying, That cunt Zuckerberg and the rest, they need hanging.
Did she have a chance, really, with that cock of a father and a rabid junkie slapper for a mother?
The father of her half-sister strangled himself whilst pleasuring himself, another junkie, another s'leb, albeit marginally more musically gifted than Bob, which isn't difficult.
Given a ridiculous name (besides Geldof, I mean), raised by an arrogant, talentless has-been, endlessly extending his shitty 'career' by skanking money out of gullible morons on the pretext of helping solving world hunger, which he hasn't, and seemingly utterly convinced of his own divinity, encouraged to think that she herself was divinely appointed to be a fashion icon, a teevee presenter, an artiste, ffs, without any apparent talent whatsoever, what chance did she have?
Sad. Sadder for her kids, left behind. They too, apparently, now to be raised by a dysfunctional 'musician' father, given the worst of starts in life after already being dealt the bum hand of having Nob Geldof as grandad. History may well repeat itself again, God forbid.
What chance have they got? Slim to none, and slim is saddling his horse.
Vincent.
I wonder if Sir Bob will step in to try to grab the grandchildren, the way he did with Tiger Lily?
Hasn't he already said as much, mrs woar, in so many words; probably bury the peachy one in the family cemetery; he has one, doesn't he, in his private estate, ah, with humble men such as he, how can there be hunger and poverty in the world?
Took the words right out of our mouths, mr vincent, apparently there were others of similar mien, over at the Guardian, but they were shut down, in the interests of the very best possible tast. Way back then I thought I was the only person in the world absolutely fucking enraged by LiveAid. But I don't think I was.
The Oirish seem to be especially gobby and sure of themselves.
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