Welcome, one and all, to me island in de sun. A beautiful vista enraptures even the weariest of eyes and all that can be seen from shore to horizon is sun, sea, sand and HAAAAAAATE.
Welcome, then, to Celebrity Hate Island. From our secret underground bunker I have brought together the créme of talent in the form of Skoo, Myself, Log, Ash and enchating front page newcomer and all-round girl, Anifer. She LITERALLY has boobs. Saying that, most of the boys do too to some degree.
I have gathered this venom-filled clan to liberate us from the bloated and fetid celebrity pool in which we flounder. We will strive to highlight for you, the most common of punters, just who is REALLY taking this piss and milking their status to the hilt. Yes I'm very well aware that even this kind of lampooning gives these halfbreed bottom feeders a degree of exposure, but you've got to break a few eggs before you can punch Kate Moss, or however the saying goes.
Ladies first, it's Anifer:
I would put PARIS HILTON on Celebrity Hate Island, as she is a pointless spoilt little brat with a stupid smugly smile and an evil pointy nose who thinks poverty means having to cook for yourself and wipe your own arse.
She just swans around with daddy’s cash with the total belief that money will always get her whatever she wants. At least she could have the decency to be fucked up or discover that money can’t buy you happiness, but it turns out that if your born both rich and shallow, money can in fact not only buy you happiness, but also equally rich boyfriends, a modelling, music and TV career and lots of really nice things too.
ARGH – I’m getting tense just thinking about it.
I would also put either Hannibal Lecter or Dr Harold Shipman on Celebrity Hate Island in the hope that one of them would KILL PARIS FUCKING HILTON.
That is all.
What an amazing talent you have for imitating bordom. You are to comedy what John Barnes is to rap. You are a one-trick pony, and your trick isn't even that good. Please try something new. I suggest something NOT involving politics, because let's face it, our current M.P.'s are way funnier than you'll ever be. The team from 'Dead Ringers' took your niche and blew it wide open, leaving you with a husk of a career, and a rather smelly horse carcass to flog. Please go to Channel 5 so I never have to see you again.
I have never liked you. I do not understand how you managed to get a job on television in the first place, let alone how you managed to blag a move to the BBC. I saw David Blaine on GMTV once, when you fell apart. That was the best thing David Blaine has ever done. He totally took your gameplan and shat on it. I've seen you in interviews since, trying to act like you were in charge of the situation, and that Mr Blaine was some sort of freak. Granted, he is a bit of a freak, but you are a TV presenter, and you should be able to improvise. What was the matter? Auto-cue suddenly became no help? You are the U.K's answer to Ron Burgundy, minus the stylish facial hair, satire, charm, and dress-sense. When your bubble bursts, I suggest you find work at a local bingo hall. Your ability to read things when prompted, and your bland comedic wit, set you aside as the ideal bingo caller. I will enjoy watching you fall, Eamonn.
Right then, let's delve in to my realm of anger. Firstly I should like to nominate the despicable council-faced show-up, Elaine Lordan. Not only has the hatched faced crone repeatedly disgraced herself with abusive drunken tirades on transatlantic flights (probably having topped up on lambrusco before she left to save a few bob), now she's gone tits up (or down as it was) on 'I'm A Celebrity Get My Career Back.'
Listen, you big-faced shitstripe, you left the confines of your woodchip-covered hovel to try and do something other than die of liver failure and shit hair.
It didn't work.
At least have the decency to disappear off back to the galaxy you escaped from without demanding your full fee from the show plus and extra £100k to sell your banal story to the gutter press. YOU. TROUT.
My second pick is George Best. George, George, George. You came, you saw, you won the countries heart with your speedy footwork and thrill-charged manouevres. Then you found the booze and it all went to shit. Now I have no problem with this, but you took alcoholism to the next level. You decided not only to ruin yourself, but when you'd done that you took it upon yourself to mess up someone else too, you liver stealing ungrateful shit.
I'm not wishing death on you, but I hope you have the decency to die knowing what you did.
Ooh that felt nice.
Firstly, I would ship shouty-mouthed comedian JUSTIN LEE-COLLINS to Celebrity Hate Island, in a leaky schooner. His ability to hop around like a deranged idiot and spew fake-passionate rubbish about the most mundane topics is just staggering.
Give Justin Lee-Collins a carton of milk. He'll say "thanks, I like milk. It's good for you, assuming you're lactose tolerant". Then do the very same thing, but with a camcorder trained on his stupid Jesus face. That fucking face would contort into an utterly fake rage.
MILK CARTONS! YOU CAN NEVER OPEN THEM RIGHT, CAN YOU? AS IF WE DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH ON OUR PLATES WITH THOSE LITTLE POTS YOU GET IN SERVICE STATIONS, THEY GIVE YOU CARTONS OF MILK, SO YOU CAN THROW A WHOLE PINT OF COW'S TIT-WATER ALL OVER YOURSELF! AND WHAT'RE THOSE "MISSING" PICTURES ON MILK CARTONS ALL ABOUT? IMAGINE SITTING IN YOUR SQUAT, JACKING UP ON HEROIN AND SEEING YOURSELF ON A MILK CARTON! IT'D FUCK WITH YOUR HEAD! YOU'D BE LIKE "OH NO, I'M AN INGREDIENT OF MILK! THIS MILK CONTAINS 50% OF THE RECOMMENDED DAILY ALLOWANCE OF MY FACE!
(actually that's too good for Collins, forget I said that)
AND THAT'S NOT ALL! THAT LITTLE FRILLY BIT ON THE LIP OF THE CARTON, IT ALWAYS GETS A BIT SOGGY! AND WHEN YOU'RE DRINKING FROM THE CARTON - ASSUMING THERE'S ANY LEFT IN IT AFTER YOU'VE THROWN IT ALL OVER YOURSELF - IT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE SNOGGING A SPIDER! PUTS ME RIGHT OFF MY SUGAR PUFFS! AND DON'T SUGAR PUFFS SOUND GAY?!
The fact I wrote that in two minutes makes you utterly redundant, Lee-Collins. Stop it and fuck right off and away.
I would also put MOHANDES GANDHI on Celebrity Hate Island. It's nothing personal, Gandhi - in fact I have a lot of respect for your non-violent protests of wayback. I just can't get your stupid name out of my head. Every time I try to think of a name for a character, the word "Gandhi" floats to the top of my head, and blocks out every other possible name. The only name to have ever got around my massive imaginary Gandhi in this situation is Gandalf, and quite frankly that's worse than fucking useless when you're not naming a stupid wizard.
Once, I was tippety-tapping idly on my keyboard between proper thoughts. I mindlessly patted the keys, paying scant attention to what was coming out, until I saw the phrase "gandhi time" on my monitor. I have a question for you, Gandhi. What are you doing that close to the top of my subconscious? And why, during an unguarded moment, does my subconscious tell me it's bloody Gandhi Time? What HAPPENS at Gandhi O'Clock?
So not only would I send Mohandes Gandhi to Celebrity Hate Island, I would send his entire legacy of peaceful self-sacrifice too. And I'd have to send Mahatma, Indira, and the whole mystery-solving Gandhi gang. It's a tiny price to pay to get that word out of my damned head.
I’m not normally an angst filled geek but when asked who I’d put on Celebrity Hate Island I just knew who to pick! The pair I’ve got in mind stick in the media like shit on my ass, the only difference is that my shit doesn’t think it smells good.
So who would I send? Well of course it has to be Bob (I’m a fucking saint) Geldof and his lapdog Bono. Geldof is the tape that’s got stuck. He’s on repeat but no-one seems to care - the world loves listening to the Geldof whining, on loop, for the past 20 years.
Sure Geldof has done some good stuff but seriously, no-one cares! Just go back home to your stupidly named daughters and swim in all that money you have (apparently £30 million, who knew that saving poor people could be so profitable!)
Now Bono is a different matter, he reached new peaks with the grating iPod advert but he still doesn’t surpass his master, the rat faced Geldof. Vertigo one of U2’s more distressing efforts clearly shows their collective mindset. In the video you note them in the centre of concentric circles this is meant to imply that they are the centre of the universe!! THEY ARE THE POOR PEOPLES NEW GODS!
I could go on for an age about this pair but I’ll keep it at that, I utterly despise them and hope that they die a horrible death somehow involving poo and maybe Paris (you know she’d love that shit).
Oh and a note to Anifer: Don’t be so harsh on Paris, she got semi-nice tits, you know you would.
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