Nice but Wrong

I love celebrity, I like to lap it up with a giant media spoon and gorge myself on its rich and succulent innards. To this end I decided to attend this year’s Grammy awards with my empty gossip plate and an expectant look upon my face, and frankly thank heavens I did because this year’s ceremony was a feast fit for a king!

As I sat resplendant in my evening wear, I was shocked, then enraptured to see Kelly Clarkson, Pop Idols enfant pas de terrible. Upon collecting her award for best female pop vocal performance, Clarkson shrieked as she was seemingly pelted with a barrage of paintballs from elsewhere in the arena! Her melodic cries for help were certainly music to my ears, hitting an unsurpassable high E as one of the projectiles found it’s home in her secret garden.

As she was gracefully ushered from the stage by the glamourous paramedic dancers, the stage transformed with speed to accomodate comeback queen and drama must-see, Mariah Carey. All eyes were on the diva as she ended a powerful performance in which she covered The Firm’s 1987 hit, Star Trekkin’. She did all the voices and everything. A true star.

The song over, the empassionately appealed to those responsible for the pelting of Clarkson to end the madness playing out before us. Each word she spoke was accompanied from what seemed like all sides, by a 400-strong black gospel choir, a fact that Carey seemed charmingly unaware of.

It was not until Carey threatened to use the ‘Brown noise’ that the person responsible stood forward. Normally the brown noise can only be achieved using an array of specialied equipment, but those in the know did not doubt Mariah’s ability to hit notes that could make a man die a savage death while his ears bled away to nothing. I think we all remember ‘Heartbreaker’.

Chris Martin, usual keeper of the peace and boring pest of the music scene allowed security to take him backstage and question him about the alleged paintball attack incitement, and an enquiry was launched as to why suspicions weren’t raised earlier when Coldplay veered from the normal approach to performing at an awards show.

Security claimed that Martin brandishing a gun on stage was assumed to have been a protest to war across the glabe, but as it transpired he was actually ripped to the tits on a combination of uppers, downers and new diet coke with cherry. Paltrow was also taken in for question, but this was regarding how on earth she thought it was a good idea to name her child ‘Apple’.

Missy Elliot, upon receiving her award for most weight loss ever in the world ever, was heard to exclaim: “Finally, the blacks are exonerated! We had nothing to do with this! Ha ha!”

The saucy bitch!

Thank you celebrities, I am now full up of you!

Boooooorp!

Soon, soon, I will go home and get screencaps from the Friday Night Project because woop woop we were in the background on a few shots and Kat even got her laughing face on the WHOLE SCREEN the scene stealing BITCH.

Anyway, before that happens I have something pressing to attend to. We are, as a social group of friends, having a Jerry party, based on the popular and inflammatory Jerry Springer: The Opera. It will be a medium sized affair, perhaps 30-40 people, plenty of booze, a selection of finger foods (no prawn based) and of course a sing-a-long viewing of the show itself.

Alas though, for we are without a guest of honour. Step up if you will David Bedella, star of Jerry, saucepot of Holby City and wiggiest of Hedwigs. As the lovely Sally pointed out, if you google “david bedella, please come to my party”, then you will find that my site is (albeit unintentionally) top in the ranking. Well, I said to myself, it is a sign. David should, no, MUST come to our party and bring a selection of snacks. Especially the chinese cracker things they do in Tesco with the bits of dried seaweed on.

David, if you are reading this (and from what I’ve heard there is a good chance thanks to your incessant trawling of the internet), then come to our party. Too often are celebrities eager to run away from the common man, and this is your chance to prove that you’re better than that David. We are the common man, well I’m not but I assure you several of the guests will be.

I mean, just look at how Justin Lee Collins treated me on Friday, knowing FULL WELL of my feelings towards him, the ignorant shit didn’t even bat an eyelid in my direction. Alan Carr was marginally better, although I think any eyelid batting that came my way was more a result of facial twitching than anything else. Well, do you know what David? They are BAD celebrities. They’ve gone all the way to the top of their ivory towers and do you know what they’ve found? Do you? Nothing, David. The cupboard is bare and the love has gone. My cupboard is FULL. Full of all the most wonderous beverages imaginable and even napkins!

What is your beverage of choice David? I like to this you are a casual fan of a Pernod and black. Or perhaps a créme de menthe frappé? In any event, I’m sure you don’t go in for the latest drink to hit the scene, making sure you’re seen with the right brand of bottled filth at the latest social shindig.

Of course, this isn’t limited to you David, you are more than welcome to invite Alison Jiear, who played the wonderfully comic/tragic Shawntel. She’s working on Soapstar Superstar - She’s not above coming to a party in White City I suspect! Frankly I think she would be a valuable asset to any party as I can imagine her being quite bawdy and free with her breasts.

Perhaps she could even cater for the party by pulling a favour with the lads at Burger King? I mean they must owe her one or two favours for making her straddle a cannon? I’d at least want a bacon double cheeseburger meal or two. And onion rings.

In summary David, while at first glance this may look like a pathetically needy attempt to ingratiate myself with you, while simultaneously creeping you and your colleagues out with a slightly too in-depth knowledge of your doings, please attempt to scratch beneath the surface and discover that this is, all in all, an invitation to make a difference to some tiny people. We ARE tiny, David. We’ll be having Tesco’s pizzas.

This invitation is open to no-one else. Only David Bedella. I only care if he comes.

Giggle.

[edit]After reading this post, read this - Michael Barrymore is a horrible self obsessed mess and thus makes for excellent television. Tune in tonight if only so you can revel in the fact that they have probably edited the wanker to make him look half normal. Slurring drunkenly and completely cocking up over and over do not a good show make. Nor does banging on and on AND ON about what a mess you were and how you sorted yourself out. You haven’t Michael, just fuck off. Oh I’m at the back on the left with a brown shirt on. You might see me when JLC is singing backstreet’s back in the audience 

Tonight I have managed to score last minute tickets to go and see channel 4’s Friday Night Project. The show is standard friday night fayre, quick sketches, celebrity goss and nothing longer than 5 seconds to hold the attention of the drunken buffoon. It is hosted by a different guest presenter every week, along with comedy-mouthed duo Justin Lee Collins and Alan Carr.

Now then - I have two major problems with going to this.

Problem 1 - I loathe Justin Lee Collins. I would like to tear out my pancreas and forcibly insert it from one ear through to the next. Then I want to set him on fire and watch him crumble into ash. But do you know what I would do then? I would cry a little bit because I love him. In spite of myself I want to do the most unimaginabley filthy things to him while he whispered farming terms in my ear. I want to grab his beardy face and kiss and punch him in alternating motions.

Problem the second - This week, the guest host is Michael Barrymore. Fresh back on the celebrity circuit after his recent ’success’ on celeb BB, the murderous creep has decided to inflict himself on society once more. If you see a red dot on his forehead during the show, do not be alarmed. He has not just converted religions, it is the laser sight on my sexy murder gun because I AM GOING TO MURDER HIM IN THE FACE.

This is a good example of a Barrymore:

And this is what will happen if he is let lose on your screens once more:

See? Feels wrong doesn’t it. Well thats what you get. Anyway keep and eye our for me on telly tomorrow night. I’ll be the bloke skillfully avoiding being publically humiliated in any way by staring at the floor.

 P.S. 30 odd people have joined the forum and they are BETTER than YOU! Hah!

Something wonderful has happened. Thanks to the hard work of internet deity Tim, Nicebutwrong has given birth. Now lying on the floor in front of you, still bathed in amniotic fluids and mewling and puking, lies a tiny infant forum.

Yes, I am a proud father. A father of a bouncing baby blossoming community that heralds you to join and partake. It has been broken (by me), fixed (by Tim) and prettied up with a lovely shade of ‘green’ to preserve your precious look-holes. Join. I will offer you succor. My shirt is raised and it is time for you to suckle on my interteat.

You can join by clicking on the tab at the top and registering, which is simpler than it sounds. Family, friends and stalkers alike, I welcome you.

COME

Things are picking up for me work wise now. Mornings with Sumo, afternoons with w00t, so my day is very occupied now and the variety of the work is much more refreshing. Last week was spent kitting out the next door office with electric things and prettying it up a bit, so that this week work can begin in earnest. Much excitement, but as a result I am in more of a frantic rush than usual, so I shall attempt to condense this blog down into handy chewable morsels for the gal on the go:

Brokeback Mountain - Lovely film. Will not cure homophobia, especially when it is purported that gays regard foreplay as ‘a bit of spit on the hand and in you go’.

Jarhead - Oh Jake. Quite disjointed but then that is the nature of the subject matter. But Jake, though. Pretty.

Breakfast on Pluto - Might be going to see this on Thursday.

Sang all yesterday at rehearsal and was very pleased. Trying not to sing like Frank Butcher too much in case it messes up my throat but then I suppose I should do it now and get it out of the way. It was excellent fun anyway, and the dancing is hilarious.

As previously mentioned, this site will be changing wildly soon. One of these big changes will be the addition of a forum! God help me, like I hadn’t learnt my lesson from the Weebl forum. Saying that, this time I can rule with a pointy stick and get away with being a bastard. Have already started fiddling. With the forum.

Finally I found Alistair Appleton’s blog which is pleasingly intelligent and nice to read. He is the guy that does shows like cash in the attic and stuff if you didn’t know. He is a gay and prettier than me so obviously I am going to hack his site and replace it with pictures of something terrible. Like this.