"It made my mouth all dirty" sobs nameless celebrity.

In the absence of conventional reading material, I tend to read shampoo bottles whilst on the toilet. The sizable list of ingredients that go into make something as trivial as shampoo is quite startling. How much formic acid is really needed in a means to wash your hair? I'll endeavor to answer that question, and hopefully many others when i go for my second of the day some time this evening.

I just spent 2 minutes scouting out 'hot' 'celeb' 'gos' to make this place a little less 'bluergh' and more 'phat bangsworthy' and 'large'. It should come naturally, especially after my stint with WMF, but it doesn't. I can identify most of the in-crowd, but not why they're 'in'.

My ignorance of the undeservedly famous aside, I can't seem to find anything of worth. Especially not since Chris Brown failed to utilise the 'loose wiring atop 3rd flight of stairs' excuse to wangle himself out of trouble. At least then there'd be potential for an O-J-Jizzle 'The Juice' Simpson style confession novel, penned by Brown under the pseudonym 'Bris Crown'.

There's nothing much--actually, I'm not done with the Bris Crown idea yet, I shall run with it. Below is potential excerpt from the now redundant novel:

"...So me dragd bitch to d crib, bitch wuz unconchis. so I did her yet another severe physical discourtesy to make sure, before I left her, broken, at the bottom of the stairs. Bitchz gum wuz lying at tongue's length from her leaking mouth. I got d hook-up on the poleece, an put sum water roun mines eyes..."

The differentiation between Brown's and the ghostwriter's contributions are clear.

There's nothing (else) to report really...Jade Goody is still terminally ill, Cheryl Cole climbed a mountain, Gary Barlow hired a plane and Lily Allen got her hair cut. I'm wasting my time trying to be down with current affairs because amongst the viscous syrup of lies, the truth shines out like a glistening phallus: I don't care.






**Update** To combat any inferiority I may feel well confronted by a fat-tongue who believes my celebriknowledge is in question, I'll make up my own news, much like every tabloid scrawl in existence.