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A Mountain out of a Cole Hill
Comic Relief is normally good for a giggle. I particularly enjoy it when Lenny Henry tries to raise money for starving children; he could feed every African child for a month by merely collecting the scraps from his wife’s tent-top.
Personally, I’d like to see the money raised go towards battered wives in the UK. Tony Cascarino’s bint could do with a few quid judging by the standard of his tipping. If there’s any money left over we could always feed Victoria Beckham.
This year’s telethon doesn’t look too appealing on the comedy front. There was potential in sending Z-list celebrities to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, but they all made it back.
I’ve never understood why people would choose to climb a mountain. The common response is ‘because it’s there’; well Karen Brady is ‘there’, and I have no interest in getting on top of it.
I’m highly dubious about the whole expedition. Kilimanjaro is supposed to be Africa’s largest mountain, it’s even higher than Rio Ferdinand on a Sunday night.
Yet we’re being sold the line that all of these pampered nobodies made it to the summit. I’d be surprised if Chris Moyles could last two minutes on a treadmill, even if he was being powered by the force of Cheryl Cole’s stifled racism.
Another reason for doubting the authenticity of the climb was the surprisingly healthy state of the alleged climbers. I saw pictures of Cheryl at the half-way point, and she was more made-up than Ashley Cole with a second anus.
I’m surprised that the public have taken Cheryl to their collective bosom. It wasn’t so long ago that she was bullying toilet attendants, now because she cries over some halfwit on the X-Factor, suddenly she’s Princess Diana before the wall came into play.
Cheryl’s less aggressive half was up to his old tricks while she was away on her make-believe trek, although he claims his late night tryst with a skank in a club was merely an ‘intellectual conversation’. I’m not sure that “Any chance of a threesome; you and any male friend” qualifies as an intellectual debate.
Cole ended up being fined £80 by the filth after they tried to quell an altercation with a photographer. To put that in perspective, Cole earns £80 for a minute’s work, much like the young lady I’m seeing this evening.
I’m not going to criticise Ashley for looking for an alternative to Cheryl, the Geordie doughnut can’t even make a fried breakfast without burning it. Ashley likes his sausage brown.
Cheryl is said to be furious about Ashley’s behaviour, and she’s not going to take it lying down, which is a major deviation from the norm.
If Cole does get dumped, I hope he doesn’t react like Frank Lampard when he was elbowed by his bint. Frank’s weight ballooned up to such a horrendous degree, the only way he could view his penis was by asking Ashley Cole to say ‘aahh.’
I’ll be eating well when Sunderland beat Wigan; I’m investing one point at 5/4.
