Jodie Marsh again.

About a fortnight ago I posted an angry damnation of celebrity fuckwit Jodie Marsh and, therein, I posited the oft-expressed point of view that she existed only to make “Katie” Jordan “Price” look good.  Jode, as I like to never call her, has often trumpeted the fact that she’s better than Jordan because her sweater-cows are all real, even calling her autobiography (fucked if I’m linking to an Amazon page for it, the dire cunt that she is, I’m not risking someone actually buying it as a result) “Keeping It Real”.

Anyway, it now emerges that she’s going to have her boobs done – with some lucky magazine stumping up the cash for her in return for the first photos of the new knockers.  There is no font currently in existence that would adequately carry enough weight to do justice to the enormous “FOR FUCK’S SAKE” that this development merits.  After years of gurning about how “real” she is, la Marsh has decided to throw her only remaining card directly into a fucking big shredder.  And some futile arse is going to pay her to do it.

Not only this, but in another stunning development, Marsh has told a leading magazine that the recent break-up of her pretend marriage to some bloke led her to consider suicide.  This is roughly the 964th time that she has considered suicide, having previously given the idea some thought when she got booed on Celebrity Big Brother, and on one occasion when she couldn’t find the teabags.  As a long-term sufferer of clinical depression I can honestly testify to having had very real suicidal feelings and … how to put this … these feelings did not manifest themselves in a desire to go out and get bladdered in a nightclub before making crude denunciations of anyone who had ever looked at me funny.  Call me sceptical, I just don’t quite buy it.

In the earlier post, incidentally, I made a suggestion that Marsh’s existence may cause our planet to be consumed by the purifying fires of judgement.  Can it be any coincidence, I am forced to wonder, that within 24 hours of the latest Marshian revelations, England was struck by a right big earthquake?  It damn near knocked me off my sofa, and caused me to spill red ink all over my Big List of Reasons I’m Jealous of Jodie Marsh and Want to be Like Her but I’m Just a Desperate Wannabe.

Please, Jodie, I’m begging you.  For the sake of the human race, please don’t get your norks inflated.  You have angered the Gods of Squalid Repetitive N-list Celebrities, and this earthquake may only be the beginning.  We’re counting on you.

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