Big Brother Storms It
IT was a dark and stormy night…
Or at least it will be when pantomime poppadom villain Jade Goody is released from the Big Brother house.
Until the booing and hissing can begin in earnest, the papers are left with little to talk about but the weather.
Big Brother Jade Goody’s face, contorted and raw with rage on the Sun’s cover page. “EVICT HER.” Send her packing. Boo! Hiss! Can’t wait. Can’t wait.
Thankfully, in the lull before the storm there is the weather. The weather is always doing something. And just recently it has been doing stormy and wet.
“KILLER STORM,” thunders the Express’s front page. “Twelve die as 99mph gales bring havoc across Britain.”
There is a picture of a lorry swept off a bridge. The driver died. A huge tree lies atop a car in a city street. A commuter is blown over on his way to work. Results of the worst storm to hit Britain for 17 years.
Jade Goody breathes. But it’s not much of a life; “DUMPED” by the Mirror’s front-page headline, her perfume removed from shops. She’s coming out. Can’t wait. Bring it on.
“No escape as the gales lash all of Britain,” says a further headline. “THE SUDUKO PUZZLE IS ON PAGE 4,” comes more bad news.
More pictures. Weather. Weather. Weather. A cow stuck in snow in Scotland snakes its tongues up its nostril. A bus topples into a ditch. A woman holds onto her skirt, lest the gusts blow it up over her ears and expose her flesh to the merciless weather. The Express keeps its camera remarkably steady.
This is Britain getting “LASHED” it the Star. The news is grim, if not a little better as ten and not 12 have died. The Mirror’s front page agrees: “10 DIE.”
“Boot out this bully tonight,” says the Express’s front page. The gathering storm. Dark. Foreboding. Get Goody. Get her. Get her. Get her. Get her.
It’s the Sun’s “TRAIL OF CHAOS ACROSS THE UK”. It’s the “BATTER OF BRITAIN.” Travel misery for thousands but the spirit of the Blitz will see us though.
“They’ll be bluebirds flying at 99mph over the crumbling cliffs of Dover…”
This is “BATTERED Britain.” Waves lash the beach in Dorset. A tree falls through a workshop in Norfolk. Cars roll over in Liverpool.
“SO WINTER’S HERE’S THEN!” exclaims the Mail’s front page. “CRUSHED; BATTERED; FROZEN; BLOWN AWAY.”
Waiting. Here she comes. Waiting. Can’t wait. Can’t wait. Storm clouds massing. Bring it on…
Posted: 19th, January 2007 | In: Celebrities Comment (1) | TrackBack | Permalink
