Desperately seeking Sanity

Yes dear reader, it's been a few weeks since I've become enraged enough about the clothing worn by our so-called celebrities. Here's a few that have given me cause to shake my head ruefully before cacking myself with laughter.


First cab off the rank, Yasmin LeBon, was recently voted one of the UK's style icons.

(Invested with as much weariness as possible): *Sigh*. Those stupid little capelet things are about the dumbest things worn by sartorial slaves everywhere since we convinced ourselves that ----

Yassa's blouse reminds me of what my Mum's choir group used to wear with their black skirts in the mid-seventies and her skirt was clearly swiped from the satin and candlewick bedspread at my grandma's house.

Is it just me, or are you also disturbed by the trend in recent years to wear nothing that matches whatsoever. 'BoHo' is more 'Hobo' . If I dared wear this tragi-pastel ensemble out, I'd be compared to 'Mary' the rehabilitated mental patient from the fabulously funny TV show 'Little Britain'. Chances are I'd probably then lick your face as well "Eeeh eh ehhh...."



This uncoiled strip of twine is all that remains of Anna Kournikova these days. Any chunky muscles from thwacking a fuzzy yellow ball around have completely disappeared - instead she's gone for the standard, 'Welcome-to-the-US-of-A' emaciated starving starlet look.

Dunno why she's looking so pleased with herself: perhaps she spotted Nicole Richie across the room and called her a Big Fatty Boom Bah Lard Arse. Or asked her for diet tips.

Anna, Anna, Anna - go inhale (and keep it down) a big bacon sarnie right now. Then cram in some large fries, a huge chocolate milkshake and a KitKat chunky. Maybe I'll have one on your behalf.


I have never understood the world's fascination with the Moulding Bones or in particular, their lead wrinkly, Mick Jagger. He is simply a brittle little breadstick with a set of lips that could suck the juice out of a lemon in the next suburb.

So here he is: his latest model's very own ventriloquist's dummy, who unfortunately still gets the opportunity to sing for himself. His minders have to carry around a stepladder and a support shelf for him to climb up and rest his lips on in order to kiss her occasionally.

Anything more intimate than that is an impossibility: she'd slice him with her shoulder blades and any physical friction created by Mick would start a fire.



From crap rock to crap lit: Salman Rushdie with his 6 foot wife. Another case of mid-life, mid-multi-million dollar crisis.

....and I'm sure he married her for her exacting editing skills and insight into the issues facing modern muslims today.....

He looks so damn smug - I just want her to reach down and slap him rapidly on the head like Benny Hill used to do to the short bald guy on his show.... or just slap him, full stop.


Aw, bless him - Rogerin' Rod Stewart's opted for homespun comfort wearing a Scottish dressing gown and his wife Penny has gone for a sequinned stick of liquorice.

He's actually looking pretty grim because Penny just whispered, "Now you look here you sleazy little bugger - one flirty move from you at my niece's 18th birthday tonight and I'll hang you up on the coat-rack behind you and use your willy as a shoe shiner"

But wait, Rod's always lagged behind dear old Tony Curtis, here pictured with Wife Number Seven who is about 40 years younger.

Again we have the cleavage, the one-foot height difference and a look of total self-satisfaction from both sides: "I've got me a hot young gal....." and "I can close my eyes when we shag and think of my brand new BMW..."

Tony's gone for the RainMan look with the waistband up around his armpits, cutting him in half like a human humpty dumpty. Number 7 isn't any better unless she's actually a Marilyn impersonator in drag?

And finally, I present you with a photo of Gary Glitter, recently sentenced to three years in a Vietnam prison for sexually abusing two young girls. He's done a sterling job of visually convincing us that he's pure, innocent and absolutely able to be trusted with the local girl guides' regiment.