Revenge of the Real World Dwellers
Ah Paris. In this picture, she obviously thinks (perhaps that last word is a tad optimistic) that it's warm enough for a tank top and bare arms, yet her feet are encased in what appears to be the yankee version of an esky. Why?
She's either going to be freezing up top and go all 'nipply' on us (being the delicately shy young petal that she is I'm sure that that's not the look she was going for) or her feet (which rival Ronald McDonald's for length) are going to be sweating heavier than a Weight Watcher's Reject at a pie-eating contest.
What does Madonna put behind her ears to attact men?
Well, it used to be her ankles and sadly, given her recent attachment to leotards, is still is.
When-oh-when is she going to stop working, stay at home with her kiddly winks and start spending some of her mega millions on something other than the latest techniques for stretching her face into a scary cartoon?
Heaven help us if she's still at it at 57 or 67 - draping herself around a pole with the ends of her mouth joining up at the back of her head, make up courtesy of Pollyfilla and body thanks to pensioner pilates....
I just don't get the fuss about Kate Moss's 'beauty'. She sure as hell ain't winning any awards for being Mother of the Year, 'Most Likely To Select a Suitable Life Partner' or for having the best happy-go-lucky, easy-breezy sense of humour.
Please go home, STICK and take that stupid flattened car-tyre for a belt off, send the nanny packing and learn how to eat something with your kid. If you can cope with all of that without resorting to numbing your nostrils, then try working for a charity other than the rehabilitation of pathetic pissy little rock stars, OK?
But no, like a blowfly on a day-old burger, she goes back to the source of all evil and don't they both look so healthy for it?
Why stay home being a mother or - god forbid - eating and wearing sensible clothes - when you can flit off to Dublin for a few days with this great catch, Mr Pharmaceutical Failure 2006...
What on earth does she see in him apart from her very own dial-a-derelict?
This pic wins the prize for total inappropriateness and squirm-inducing discomfort. Cindy Crawford, another Mental Giant known for having facial surgery at 29, has organised this photo of her child, Presley, or Colonel Sanders or Abe Lincoln or whomever the poor little bugger is.
The 'come and get it' look, the 'fake' (please god, let it be fake) slapper tatt patch on the lower back, the white hipsters and the topless pose all combine in a tacit nod to kiddie porn that frightens me more than Kate Moss forgetting the name of her own offspring.
Cindy Crawford and Rande Gerber should have their foreheads forcibly tattoeed with: "We are complete exploitative, retarded and unfit Parental Pond Slime and you have permission to come and slap us any time you like"
This overly varnished stick of beef jerky is apparently Rachel Zoe, stylist to the over-paid, over-thin and underly-talented Hollywood starlets who regard vodka and cigarette smoke as the two only - and most important - food groups.
When Lindsay Lohan's fifteen minutes are up, Rachel will no doubt be able to find herself alternative employment as Crack-o-rexia Barbie or use her sternum as the paid entertainment during her xylophone solo at Corey Haim's G-lister BBQ night.
The most positive thing we can say is that she isn't a slave to botox....?
Time to finish with an Australian one - Rachel McLeod wife of dazzling little AFL diamond Andrew, and Peter Hellier, posing as, I dunno, a Shane Warne/Warwick Capper mutant inbred from Tassie.
I'll give Rachel a couple of points for adding some humour to what is normally a very dull evening (the Brownlow vote count has all the excitement of picking the pubes out of the shower drain), wearing her husband's number on her back. However I hope she actually ate something that night or Andrew might lose an eye if he tried for a session of horizontal folk dancing.
Peter Hellier, unfortunately, is even less attractive in real life than in the picture here, and about as funny as cot death. He however thinks he's hilarious which makes me want to grab his big fat Elmer Fudd Face and shove it up Kate Moss's bony little arse... Maybe one day.