Celebrity news & gossip from the world’s showbiz and glamour magazines (OK!, Hello, National Enquirer and more). We read them so you don’t have to, picking the best bits from the showbiz world’s maw and spitting it back at them. Expect lots of sarcasm.
Pouty rapper and current holder of Kim Kardashian’s bum breasts Kanye West has been talking to the Oxford Guild Business Society.
The talk features one question from the audience, which he didn’t answer. Your question might
have been, “Who gives a talk to the Oxford Guild Business society?’
Shakeel Hashim was there to brings us a few highlights of Kanye West’s self-styled “stream of consciousness”:
It begins with Shhhh…:
“OK, everyone please be completely quiet, because I can literally hear a whisper, and it’ll throw off my stream of consciousness, and when I get my stream of consciousness going that’s when I give the best, illest quotes. Literally, a whisper can throw it off.”
Pablo’s Kanye Period:
“My goal, if I was going to do art, fine art, would have been to become Picasso or greater.”
“We have the resources as a civilisation to find a utopia, but we’re led by the most greedy and the least noble.
Acts of the Keanu:
“What I said was The Matrix is like the Bible of the post-information age.”
No Clocking Off:
“By the way, I don’t know the days of the week. I just go to exactly when my appointment is.”
Hail to the Chief:
“I understand that I’m a servant. And with my voice, with my ability to build relationships with amazing people, speak to amazing people. Call Elon Musk out of the blue, or call Obama out of the blue…he calls the home phone, by the way.”
It’s Not Me; It’s You:
“In America people really do wear $3000 shirts. For real. Here and in Stockholm people will be like ‘oh dude, it’s a $3000 shirt’.
“I’m assuming I’m probably wearing a $2000 shirt but I got it for free from the designer so.”
“Time is the only luxury. It’s the only thing you can’t get back. If you lose your luggage – I’m not gonna say the obvious brand of luggage that I’d normally say because I’ve got a meeting with them soon – if you lose your expensive luggage at the airport, you can get that back. You can’t get the time back.
“It feels like people do everything in life to get this BMW, this Benz, to get this townhome, to get 2.5 kids exactly. One of them has to be small, y’know!”
The Dalai West:
“People say it takes a village to raise a child. People ask me how my daughter is doing. She’s only doing good if your daughter’s doing good. We’re all one family.”
Have I Not Heels?:
“One of my biggest Achilles heels has been my ego. And if I, Kanye West, the very person, can remove my ego, I think there’s hope for everyone.”
It’s Child Abuse:
“My momma taught me that if I was in a grocery store and I’m by myself and a stranger grabbed my hand, scream at the top of your fucking lungs. If I’m at an awards show and a stranger grabs my hand and they say so we’re going to use these moving lights, or we’re gonna play the music right now before we define the look, or we’re gonna cut the TV cameras in a traditional way. I’ll scream at the top of my fucking lungs.”
It’s Not a Sweater – It’s A Shirt:
“It’s illegal to not wear clothes, and also possibly too cold. That means someone is imposing an idea on you that should legally have to do! Clothing should be like food. There should never be a $5000 sweater.”
You can buy Jerry Garcia’s severed fingers. and the owner will toss in a FREE glass and FREE brine.
Craigslist user ‘Matt’ has more on the Grateful Dead singer’s digit (condition: ‘good’):
I am selling Jerry Garcia’s severed finger to raise money for the upcoming GD 50th Anniversary show in Chicago. It pains me to part with this one of a kind collectable, but I believe Jerry would want me to see the last show. Finger is preserved in brine solution and sealed in air tight bottle for long term storage.
It’s what he would have wanted…
Any child of David and Victoria Beckham will want for nothing save talent. You can fake it in the world of fashion and pop music, but in sport, there is no auto-tune or PR-wrangling to make the mundane appear masterful.
And the media is watching their every move.
On February 20, the Daily Mail told us just how fantastic the Beckham boys are doing in the Arsenal youth teams:
Brooklyn Beckham is a hot prospect for the Arsenal academy, but brothers Romeo and Cruz could be even better
And Cruz, age 10, must be brilliant because Brooklyn is ace. As Sami Mokbel told readers:
The teenager has caused quite a stir at Arsenal’s youth HQ over the past few months. At the age of 15, he was named on the bench for last weekend’s Under-18 clash against Leicester, raising hopes that he may well have the substance to back up his name.
A mere five days later, Sami Mokbel had more news:
However, Sportsmail can reveal that Beckham was one of only a few Under 16 and Under 17 players still at the club’s Hale End academy that weekend as the rest travelled to the Al Kass youth tournament in Qatar.
Having ‘revealed’ that Beckham had been called up on merit, the Mail then ‘reveals’ that young Beckham was called up to make up the numbers.
No pressure, Romeo. But do we detect a touch of snark benath the Star’s photo?
“David and Victoria will be told how good their son it”
And not only by the Press. But what’s this “good” rot? In the media, the Beckhams lads must be nothing short of brilliant let they be gleefully portrayed as failures.
Chick Career: one man’s comic-book crusade for humanity
Are you worried about the growing menace of the Homosexual-Catholic-Islamic-Satanist-Masonic-Alien conspiracy to promote evolutionism, fornication, pornography, pornography, paedophilia, pop music, alcohol and drugs?
Well in that case, it’s high time you got acquainted with Jack Chick – crazy name, crazy guy – and his body of enlightening works.
I first became aware of Jack when I purchased This Was Your Life for a few pence in a Christian bookshop many decades ago. Its primitive and unsubtle visual style intrigued me, as did the way it crudely homed in on the childlike insecurities that lurk within us. Here it is, animated for your convenience (with an extra ending that is definitely NOT in Jack’s original)…
But if the theme of the prodigal son is a familiar one, Jack’s other work takes us to nightmare scenarios far beyond the normal scriptural pastures, where the very existence of the human race hangs in the balance…
So who is Jack Chick? And how did this unlikely evangelist embark on his pioneering cartooning career?
According to his website, ‘As he grew, Jack was constantly drawing, and honing skills that God would later use in a great way.’
A great – some might say mysterious –way indeed.
Jack got off to an inauspicious start: ‘While in high school, none of the Christians would have anything to do with him because of his bad language. They all agreed not to witness to him, convinced that he was the last guy on earth who would ever accept Jesus Christ.’
After high school, Jack studied drama, went in the army, and eventually became an actor.
Then one day his mother-in-law insisted that he listen to Charles E Fuller’s Old Fashioned Revival Hour on the radio, during which Jack fell to his knees ‘and my life was changed forever’.
First he borrowed $800 from the credit union to fund the initial printing of Why No Revival?
Then, while out driving, Jack spotted some teenagers on the street. ‘At the time, I didn’t like teenagers or their rebellion,’ he recalled. ‘But, all of a sudden, the power of God hit me and my heart broke and I was overcome with the realisation that these teens were probably on their way to hell. With tears pouring down my face, I pulled my car off the road and wrote as fast as I could, as God poured the story into my mind.’
The result? A Demon’s Nightmare
Jack’s boss told him that the Chinese people had been won over to Communism through mass distribution of cartoon booklets, and this planted the seed of a plan in his fertile mind.
When invited to speak at a local prison, he prepared a flip chart to illustrate his speech. So successful was his performance that ‘nine of the eleven inmates present trusted Christ as their Saviour’.
The artwork from his talk formed the basis of This Was Your Life, the seminal ‘Chick Tract’ mentioned earlier.
The early tracts were not an instant hit.
‘A lot of the bookstores were really outraged at some guy using these cartoons to present the gospel,’ remembered Jack. ‘They thought it was sacrilegious.’
Half a century later, however, with hundreds of tracts translated into a hundred tongues, Chick claims a combined sales figure of 750 million: ‘His burden has always been to get the gospel into the hands of millions of lost people around the world. He wanted to be a missionary himself, but his new wife wanted no part of missionary life. Her aunt had been a missionary in Africa. While pregnant, she was being carried across a river on a stretcher, when one of those carrying her lost a leg to an alligator. But God had other plans. He wanted Jack to stay home and produce effective gospel literature that missionaries could use to win the lost. As a result, many missionaries love Chick tracts and use them to reach multitudes they could never reach one on one. Today, over fifty years after writing his first tract, God is still giving Jack Chick new gospel tracts. In fact, he is now producing some of his most popular work. As of this writing, five of the ten most popular Chick tracts in stock have been written in the last year or two.’
Jack’s tracts bring new and vivid illustrations of Christian tenets. In The Execution, a murderer is spared the gallows – only to discover (to his horror) that his own mother offered to be hanged in his place, just as Jesus died for our sins. In Flight 144, a Christian couple who have spent 50 years doing good works around the world in God’s name are killed in a plane crash and refused entry to heaven because good works don’t save sinners – only God can. In Heart Trouble, a man visits a cardiologist who tells him that he will die (‘everybody dies’) and that everyone is born with a heart problem: ‘the ugly things down deep in your heart that we can’t see… But God does.’ In Lisa (now no longer available but posted online by Chick’s detractors) a doctor informs a father that he has given his young daughter an STD – then saves his soul by introducing him to Jesus. In Big Daddy? a crazed teacher throws a boy out of his class for questioning the theory of evolution.
And so on. Targets range from the world’s biggest religions, science, abortion and homosexuality through to Santa Claus, Halloween, Harry Potter, and Dungeons and Dragons.
Many people seem to find it amusing to republish the distinctive Chick Tracts online, with amended text that ridicules Jack’s urgent message.
Some claim that Jack is a bigot and a hater. Others, that he is delusional and mad.
The latter share their delight in Jack Chick’s nightmarish visions at The Chick Tract Club.
But for the real thing, and the fount of all such wisdom, visit the home of Chick and count your blessings.
Sir Cliff Richard is mired by allegations of sex crimes. He’s not been arrsted. And he denies any wrongdoing. But the papers have got their teeth into him. The tabloids all lead with the perma-tanned singer. And on social media it’s worse.
On Facebook, Cliff is no longer a ‘singer’. No. He’s billed as a “singer under investigation by police”.
As Chris Applegate says:
So Facebook now autofills celebs’ descriptions on official profiles, which can lead to unfortunate juxtapositions.
Look out for Facebook behaving more like the Press and adding “Suspected racist” beneath all football fan’s names…
Jimmy Savile, formerly Sir Jimmy Savile in life, is all over the news.
The Sun says “Savile abused 63 people at Stoke Mandeville hospital”.
This is fact. There are no inverted commas around any part of it.The Sun then belts out other facts:
Victims aged between five and 75 were patients, staff and visitors
Savile’s older brother was a predatory sex beast
Savile’s hospital victims included cancer patient and burns victim
Cliff Richard – still Sir Cliff Richard – is on the front page of all the tabloids.
The Mirror (front page): “Cliff Richard Facing New Sex Claims”
Not too long ago that shocker would have been that Sir Cliff had ever had sex, preferring tennis and al fresco singing to nookie. Now we read that “police are probing new claims of sex abuse with Sir Cliff Richard are more alleged victims came forward”. An “officer”, revealed to be South Yorkshire Police Chief Constable David Crompton, says”This investigation has increased significantly.”
Crompton made his comment in a letter to Home Affiars Committee chariman Keith Vaz.
Page 9: “I have no idea where these absurd & untrue allegations come from,” says Cliff. The Mirror fails to tell its readers that Cliff said that on his Facebook page:
I have no idea where these absurd and untrue allegations come from. The police have not disclosed details to me. I have never, in my life, assaulted anyone and I remain confident that the truth will prevail. I have cooperated fully with the police, and will, of course, continue to do so.
Beyond stating that the allegations are completely false, it would not be appropriate for me to say anything further until the investigation has concluded, which I hope will be very soon. In the meantime, I would, again, like to thank everyone for supporting me through this unbelievably difficult period.
Jasmine Tridevil, the woman with THREE breasts is on the cover of the Daily Star. The paper has a scoop. Yes, it is true. The third breast is not a breast at all. It’s a huge marshmallow, a rolled up sock, a deviled dumpling or whatever other cunning device Alisha Hessler shoved in a bra to dupe the media, and ruin the Daily Telegraph when its chief political writer Peter Oborne quit citing Jasmine as the stuff you find under your nails when you scrape the news barrel’s bottom.
It’s left to the venerable breast experts at the Daily Star to expose the bare, naked truth:
And there on Page 3 s the thermal fact, as reveales by a Gwrman TV channel’s thermal camera.
Unless it is real. And the third breast delivers cold drinks only…
It’s Oscar season. And gearing up for the movie biz’s AGM, are Mike Kleton and Morgan Miller with their “Mobarazzi” star maker. New Yorkers are now all the beautiful people…
Dapper Laughs creator Daniel O’Reilly is a fool. When he was being accused of condoning and encouraging rape, he made the mistake of trying to explain himself. Dapper Laughs went on TV, this time as his perma-tanned geyser look-alike O’Reilly, and told the BBC Newsnight viewers about his rape jokes:
“That joke may have gone a bit too far and I may have said too much but by no means do I stand behind that and I’m embarrassed by it… I didn’t realise I was causing that much of a problem.”
Having portrayed his fans as impressionable dolts, O’Reilly then stated that Dapper Laughs was dead.
As @jamiesont tweets:
To still be a Dapper Laughs fan after he trashed you on Newsnight requires idiocy which takes you to a whole new unexplored level of stupid.
This mea culpa pleased the Newsnight viewers, who, one imagines, are not O’Reilly’s main fanbase to begin with. It was on-message. The fearless new post-Savile Newsnight will not bury important matters like an ITV2 comic making a joke at a privage gig. It will showcase its sound morals but summoning O’Reilly to its naughty step.
Julia Roberts’ mother has died. Roberts is an actress. Her mother wasn’t. Her mother was not a public figure. This is a moment of private grief for a private person. So. How does the Daily Mail report it:
Lest you think the Mail has bought nine paparazzi photos – a thing the paper vowed to stop doing after Princess Diana died – and was gawping at private grief, the ‘Daily Mail Reporter’ tells us its there to support the actress:
As news broke, the star’s friends rushed to the actress’ side as she began the difficult task of visiting her mother’s home in West Los Angeles, California. While many may struggle to enter their late loved ones home on the day they died, the 47-year-old appeared to be determined to get everything in order.
She’s an inspiration. But can Julia Roebrts be so great at the funeral? Let’s hope the Mail is there to show us…
Shit First Drafts has “found a couple of drafts of the Fifty Shades of Grey script”:
Clickbait journalism is the current trend. The newspapers realise that brand loyalty means nothing. It’s all about the instant hit. So. The Independent looks for a topic riding high on the news cycle. It spots Bobbi Kristina. It sheds crocodile tears – one young woman’s mental turmoil is a public “tragedy” – and muses:
“Those who have been following the Bobbi Kristina tragedy maybe surprised to learn this…”
The “surprise” is that Bobbi Kristina is getting better, at least physically…
It turns out that Afton Elaine Burton, aka Star, only wanted killer Charles Manson for his body. She’s marry him then keep him for ever.
Daniel Simone says Burton and one Craig Hammond wanted to use Manson’s lifeless remains as a tourist attraction. He be placed in an hermetically sealed glass box some demented Snow White, Nazi Lenin or Jeremy Bentham*.
Donald Trump says his hair tsunami is real. Barbara Walters and Joan Rivers have both touched the hair on the telly. And still the rumours persists that Donald’ Trump’s hair is real – but real what?
A Dr. Sean Bednam, from Dermatology and Hair Restoration Specialists, looked at 300 photos of Donald Trump, and declared:
“Donald Trump did not have a hair transplant, and, he doesn’t have a toupee. This is all his own hair, and it is exactly how he styled his hair when he was younger.”
So. How do you get the look. In 2008, the Daily Mail explained how:
What does America think of the Baftas, the British Academy of Film and Television Arts awards? A look at the New York Times tells us the anwer is not very much. Or nothing.
One night after British acting’s AGM, and the NYT’s Arts section features not a single story on them awards.
It might be hard luck that the Baftas are staged on the night of the Grammy Awards. But it’s lamentable that Breaking Bad spin-off Better Call Saul ‘DNA’ is bigger news.
EASTENDERS actor John Altman is from the method-one school of acting. Speaking to the Sun, Atlman, who played EastEnders‘ nasty Nick (think middle-aged Sid Vicious without the charm) “revealed he once took heroin, just like his junkie alter-ego”.
Actor took drugs! It is a shock.
“Everything Nick’s taken I’ve probably taken at some point or another — dope, LSD, cocaine, opium. The first time I did opium was in an opium den in a tower block in the back streets of Calcutta, and I smoked it from a pipe. I threw up afterwards, but when I got back to my hostel I drifted off into this incredible hallucinogenic dream.”
We love dolls, or action figures (as you macho lads call them). We’ve seen the weirdest celebrity dolls of all time. We’ve seen dead dolls. And we’ve spliced and diced more Barbies then you can shake a nagging finger at.
On Imgur, Uh Jess shows has been makin his own dolls. He’s taken Barbie (always Barbie gets it) and turning them into David Bowie, as seen in the 1986 film Labyrinth.
The clunking dialogue. The ability to fold yourself in half and turn your partner into an origami swan. The hands made for w***ing and clutching a ‘martial sex aide’. Yeah. 50 Shades of Grey was made with Lego in mind:
In making American Sniper, Bradley Cooper transformed into Chris Kyle, hero of the Clint Eastwood movie about the late Navy SEAL:
“Walsh added that Cooper didn’t just use his workouts to create the right look for the role. He used them as a springboard to transform into Chris Kyle. The intensity of the workouts got him into the right frame of mind. Cooper would often place a picture of Kyle on the wall of the gym and he blasted Kyle’s personal playlist during workouts, listening to the kind of music that defined Kyle, everything from Metallica and Slipknot to Toby Keith. . . . Bradley Cooper started the program at 186 pounds and ended at 225 with roughly the same percent body fat. By the end of the program, he was performing rack pulls with 425 pounds for 10 reps.”
Cooper’s an actor. What about the real thing?
This isn’t the defining film of the Iraq War. After nearly a quarter century of war and occupation in Iraq, we still haven’t seen that film. I’m beginning to think we’re incapable as a nation of producing a film of that magnitude, one that would explore the civilian experience of war, one that might begin to approach so vast and profound a repository of knowledge. I’m more and more certain that, if such a film film ever arrives, it’ll be made by Iraqi filmmakers a decade or more from now, and it’ll be little known or viewed, if at all, on our shores. The children of Iraq have far more to teach me about the war I fought in than any film I’ve yet seen — and I hope some of those children have the courage and opportunity to share their lessons onscreen. If this film I can only vaguely imagine is ever made, it certainly won’t gross $100 million on its opening weekend.
The biggest problem I have with American Sniper is also a problem I have with myself.
It’s a problem I sometimes find in my own work, and it’s an American problem: We don’t see, or even try to see, actual Iraqi people. We lack the empathy necessary to see them as fully human. In American Sniper, Iraqi men, women, and children are known and defined only in relation to combat and the potential threat they pose. Their bodies are the site and source of violence. In both the film and our collective imagination, their humanity is reduced in ways that, ultimately, define our own narrow humanity. In American Sniper, Iraqis are called “savages,” and the “streets are crawling” with them. Eastwood and his screenwriter Jason Hall give Iraqis no memorable lines. Their interior lives are a blank canvas, with no access points to let us in. I get why that is: If Iraqis are seen in any other light, if their humanity is recognized, then the construct of our imagination, the ride-off-into-the-sunset-on-a-white-horse story we tell ourselves to push forward, falls apart.If we saw Iraqis as humans, we’d have to learn how to live in a world far, far more complicated and painful than the difficult, painful one we currently live in.
The movie is not real. It’s made to entertain. If you get your news from Hollywood, then you’re not that into news:
The news Ghostbusters movie is an all-female affair. It’s going to be fan-tastic. Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray were at the top of their games when the first Ghostbusters film hit the big screens. But who needs them when you have a script like this?
Spotter and scriptwriter: Sean Mullins
The daughter of late American singer Whitney Houston has been found unresponsive in a bathtub in a home in Georgia, US police say.
The BBC adds:
Bobbi Kristina Brown, 21, was found by her husband and a friend, police said. They immediately started resuscitating her until police and medics arrived.
She was taken to a hospital in Roswell where she was said to be breathing.
Whitney Houston was found dead in February 2012, aged 48, in a bath in a hotel in Los Angeles.
Lisa Holland of Roswell Police Department told People: “Obviously we all know her mom died this very same way.”
Was that necessary? Because the Mail adds:
The LA County coroner said her death was as a result of drowning and effects of atherosclerotic heart disease and cocaine use
So. The same way?
Chelsea Handler has sat topless on a naked camel. It’s a statement, Handler says:
“A Muslim allowed a topless Jew to sit on his camel. And we say we can’t live side by side? I say we try and we can and we will. And, You don’t even have to be topless. L’chaim.”
Chelsea Handler lives in California.
Compare and contrast the views of Amal Clooney, wife to actor George Clooney.
On January 11 2015, Amal was at the 72nd Golden Globes, an acting AGM at the Beverly Hilton Hotel.
She sported a “Je Suis Charlie”, a nod to the journalists murdered for expressing an opinion.
Free Speech. No Buts.
On Janaury 28, Amal Clooney is a member of a legal team representing for Armenia at the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, eastern France. Clooney is among the lawyers arguing at the European Court of Human Rights against a Turkish man convicted in Switzerland for denying the 1915 Armenian genocide. She is challenging a decision that ruled the manÂ’s right to free expression was violated.
Je Suis Charlie Hebdo. They just don’t want to be him.
Hey, it’s our right to demand an edn to free speech!
Back to the drawing board.