Wise Guy’s To Blame For Pork Shortage
As a self-respecting alpha male, I naturally have jurisdiction over the remote control. I do allow the bint the occasional five-minute stint if her behaviour conforms to my strict guidelines, and that adequately explains how I ended up watching a news report about Madonna and Guy Ritchie.
It was alleged that Guy Ritchie had gone 18 months without driving through Madonna’s tunnel of love. I can understand Guy’s reticence; you can’t cook a sausage in a microwave.
I momentarily felt sympathy for Ritchie’s plight, but then I realised he’s good friends with Vinnie Jones, so he doesn’t have go too far for a wet tool.
Unlike Guy ‘Itchy’ Ritchie, I’m something of a Love God; I’ve probably seen more action than John Rambo.
I don’t really want to brag, but I’m something of a stallion in the boudoir - i’ve smashed through more back doors than Vic Mackey’s Strike Team.
The once mega-game Madonna must be totally frustrated after a prolonged period of abstinence - she must be dryer than Stephen Colbert.
Speaking of a dried up old twat, Harry Redknapp was having another pop at Aston Villa supporters last week.
Before you accuse me of having a vendetta against Harry as a result of the great ‘next Pompey manager’ sting, I must deny that my losses on that market have influenced my opinion. I honestly don’t mind losing money - just last weekend I happily threw 50p away.
My attempt to bolster the local economy did not go down well with Dirty Harry, who launched into a typical grumpy old man tirade about how much better life was in the old days. I’m not convinced that we should be looking back in fondness to a time where racism and wife-beating were rife - racism is never acceptable.
Don’t get me wrong, domestic violence is very rarely justified. I remember being shocked when Stan Collymore beat up Ulrika Johnson, but then I remembered her sketch show.
Sol Campbell reminds me of Collymore – they’re both prone to bouts of depression and have been left sore after an encounter with several rugby players.
The rugger lads gave Collymore a deserved hiding because he had beaten up a woman in public. There’s a lesson to be learned there, you should never wash your dirty linen in public; although this isn’t a problem for Madonna.
Like the desiccated old skank, I refuse to justify my love for a one point investment on Chelsea to beat Liverpool at 1.95. When it obliges, I’ll be as excited as Guy Ritchie on a bumpy bus ride.
