More Over Dreamworks

We at STT take great pleasure when football crosses over into cinema, mainly because the results tend to be just so ridiculous. This is no exception.

Constructing my perfect movie, there are certain elements that must be there: clever pun in the title, East End of London setting, larger-than-life ‘gangstas,’ ex-convict-trying-to-go-straight-but-only-after-this-final-job narrative, an incongruous appearance by an American rapper, Danny Dyer playing Danny Dyer, and Executive Producer credits for Premier League footballers. In case you haven’t guessed, this latest effort from director Alex de Rakoff (writer / director of something called The Calcium Kid which amusingly starred Orlando Bloom as a boxer) ticks literally every box.

So, here are the specifics: the flick is called DEAD MAN RUNNING, started shooting today down the road from my actual manor in Stepney, London, and stars Danny Dyer as an ex-con who has to raise £100,000 in 24 hours to pay off a loan shark, brilliantly cast as 50 Cent. According to industry gossip, Dyer “races from the dog tracks of East London to the drug scene of Manchester in order to raise the money, playing as fast and dirty as he has to in order to get the money before the deadline.” I’m out of breath just reading that.

And pulling the strings behind this masterpiece is the dream team of Rio Ferdinand and Ashley Cole, who were apparently rinsed for a couple of million each to finance this abortion. Strange that they should choose to pump their hard-earned moolah into something that will probably make Rise of the Foot Soldier look like The Long Good Friday though. With their combined intellect and cultural awareness, wouldn’t you expect them instead to bankroll a modern interpretation of Petronius’ incomplete Roman existential novel The Satyricon?

You know, this would all be hilarious if it wasn’t just so ultimately depressing for myriad reasons. First and foremost, what must other British filmmakers think of the continuing slew of sub-Guy Ritchie crap? It’s a sad state of affairs when someone as talented as Shane Meadows has to grovel at the feet of Eurostar to finance his latest picture, and yet these two idiots can get anything made by snapping their fingers, just because they want to meet 50 Cent.

The worst part of this whole debacle though is that the settings of London and Manchester have clearly not been chosen at random, and I fully expect cameos from both brain donors. Rio will presumably be playing an ‘amusingly-named’ character along the lines of Mitch the Merker, while Ashley Cole will have a ‘post-modern’ character trait of being sick on girls’ floors during what, for him, passes as sex.

So when these clowns can’t be bothered to play for their country, they’re treading water and reading scripts. And when they’re complaining about having to donate 10 quid a week to nurses, they’re actually just skimming the top off their wages to promote more insulting English stereotypes.

I despair.

iStalk

Being a hot girl and having a crazy-eyed stalker go hand-in-hand like Lambrini and date rape, so it should come as no surprise that Girls Aloud have had their fair share over the years. Just recently though, things seem to have taken a turn for the sinister, with psychotically obsessive fans popping up all over the place trying to steal underwear, causing the girls to significantly beef up their security entourage. The most threatening incident however took place this past weekend when a drunken wierdo snuck backstage and tried to confront our favourite girls. He reportedly sprinted up to the quintet and started shouting obscenities, just seconds before they were due up on stage, and the Filth had to be mobilised to deal with this impassioned lager-lout.

Showing off that nuanced sense for danger that only bouncers have, three alert security guards pounced on the unnamed fan and brought him to his knees as he attempted to touch ginger one’s hair. The girls were quickly whisked out of harm's way, while a still breathless bystander gave this thrilling account: “It was all pretty dramatic,” he ejaculated. “The girls were due on stage in about three minutes time when he ran up to them! He'd clearly had far too much to drink and was stumbling about the place and somehow he got backstage and within yards of the group. Luckily their security team was on the ball and intercepted him before he was able to do anything untoward, but it took three burly guys to bring him down as he was getting really aggressive.”

Wait just one second though…‘obsessive,’ ‘sprinted,’ ‘shouted obscenities,’ ‘too much to drink,’ ‘aggressive’…these words are all starting to form a pattern. Who do we know connected with the heavenly quintet who is obsessive, able to sprint, frequently shouts obscenities, can’t handle his drink and is unusually aggressive given his pubescent-girl physique? Hmmm

Lady Palm And Her Five Lovely Daughters

Congratulations to Cheryl Cole because today she was voted the UK’s favourite fantasy body in a YouGov poll. Now, I’m not really sure who or what YouGov is, but they seem to do some sterling work really tackling the hard-hitting issues that affect a lot of our lives. Also, just what exactly does ‘favourite fantasy body’ mean? It seems to suggest the body you fantastise most over, rather than the body you’d most like, but I guess you can’t really go on streets asking random people who they like to wank over most frequently. People tend to punch you when you ask them that. The impressively busty Dannii Minogue limped (no pun intended) over the line in second place, a good 4% behind the Girls Aloud sex kitten. Also featured high in the rankings were mutton-dressed-as-lamb scrubbers Nigella Lawson and Madonna, while clearly a few people were having a laugh by nominating Pukka Pies spokesgirl Lilly Allen. So here then are a couple of pictures of those splooge-tastic lady curves. Also please take some time to just soak up how much of a homosexual Ashley Cole looks in this photo below. Someone please set him on fire.

Save Our Cheryl

The continually oscillating circus that is the Ashley/Cheryl Cole marriage still refuses to be shut down by health and safety. Last week the England failure finally managed to drag his estranged missus away on holiday with him, undoubtedly with the full intent of plying her with cheap cocktails and taking advantage of her low self-esteem. The professional slimeball pulled out all the stops to convince Cheryl that 7 days alone would be all he needed to remind her why she fell in love with him in the first-place, and once again she fell for it. Cheryl, please take a look in the mirror and see what he has done to you; once upon a time you were literally perfect, but now all that’s left is a somewhat vacant skeleton who just cries all the time. Please realize that it is all down to that piece of shit husband of yours, and eat a couple of kebabs before you get blown away by the wind!

Ashley is certainly not familiar with the idea of there being consequences to his actions, so if there are any Premier League footballers out there reading this, please mobilize again him next season and tread on his cubes.

But wait! Maybe things aren’t completely back on after all. You see this weekend it was Ashley’s ultra-cool brother Matthew’s wedding, and guess who went alone to get hammered and try to touch-up the barely-legal staff in the service kitchen? Yes that’s right, busy hands himself, Ashley. Now nothing against Matthew Cole, but it’s inevitable that he’s going to get tarred by that scumbag’s brush, so one can see how a day out in the country with the entire Cole family being sick and trying to finger each other might not appeal, but still, surely a loving wife should always attend such events with her husband? Her name was on the guest list (see The Sun’s excellent mock-up of a ticket) but she was nowhere to be seen, sparking fresh rumours that he’s been shown the metaphorical door. I mean obviously Cheryl was just off filming The X-Factor somewhere but we can always hope that she has finally told Ashley to comprehensively fuck off forever and die…

There is No Story Here

Cheryl’s very upset blah, blah, blah…

Her weight’s plummeted blah, blah, blah…

Men are all such bastards blah, blah, blah…

I would literally kill a co-worker for an hour alone with her in a Travel Inn blah, blah, blah…

Yay, Ashley's all Grown Up!

Obviously not, but, you know, baby steps eh. The infamous Mr Cole made a tentative step back into the nightclub scene last night for the first time since he was caught cheating on Cheryl, with a trip to circle-jerk hotspot Chinawhite last night. While streetwise pals, including Michael Essien, Shaun Wright-Phillips and Jon Obi Mikel, partied around him, informants watched the Chelsea star act like a jess, only drinking Red Bull, and chat with just male friends while a paid minder fended off the girls queuing up (obviously) to try and get off with him. The minder reportedly spent four hours going from girl to girl in the Mayfair club telling all ladies present “to stop staring, Ashley isn’t interested,” to which the popular response was apparently apathetic to say the least. Without a single hint of irony, an alleged friend of the star said: “Ashley’s going out with a more mature crowd as he wants to show his more responsible, adult side. He’s going to keep going out, but he’s going to be keeping a low profile.”

Cheryl meanwhile, is on tour with Girls Aloud in Glasgow, setting jaws to ‘drop’ with every pirouette and star jump. The rest of the troop actually scrubbed up pretty damn nice too as you can see from the accompanying pictures, with even the ‘other two’ looking damn well good enough to throw a casual shot into. In an awesome art-imitating-life moment, some clever bod in the Girls Alound entourage even came up with the idea of a topical cover for the delectable Cheryl to belt out during this current tour. Sorry to ruin it, but she has been poignantly dedicating a cover of the Pretenders’hit I’ll Stand By You to “anyone who is going through a hard time at the moment.” I can feel a tear welling up…

DD-List Guests

Despite having some truly unpleasant pricks (not to mention a whole gaggle of brain-donors) in their midst, I’m starting to think that maybe I do really wanna go out on the sauce with Chelsea. Last month, after beating Fenerbahce to set-up the meeting with Liverpool, they invited rent-a-holes Chanelle and Chantelle out with them to celebrate, but this week they decided to just cut out the middle man, so to speak, and partied with porn queen Jenna Jameson. The good news for Jenna fans is that she finally looks healthy again after somewhat of a scare last year that saw her rapidly drop weight and develop a weird droopy face, raising fears that she might have the dreaded bug. Turns out though that all she needed was another good bit of plastic surgery and a couple of Cosmopolitans.

The jubilant players went straight down to Chinawhite after the victory then, with JT, Michael Essien and Soloman Kalou all looking sharp as they got down with other allegedly famous luminaries such as Joe Swash from Eastenders, as well as injured Spurs captain Ledley King. Sorry to shatter many illusions out there, but unfortunately not all porn stars are actually insatiable nymphomaniacs, so presumably once each of the Chelsea stars had had their inevitable crack at the delectable Ms Jameson, they decided to cut their losses, and revert to type by inviting a load of Page-3 tarts along for the celebratory ride too. As such, lads’ mag favourites Emma B and Jay Nicholls were out in force, along with Britain’s Next Top Model contestant Danielle Mason. Now I can only assume the first two put out easily because they both have faces like a box of smashed crabs, but Ms Mason gets a pass for actually being a looker.

As ever though, the girls were left ultimately unfulfilled due to Ashley Cole’s continued absence from night outs, having been kept under lock and key at home with Cheryl and forced to watch Embarrassing Bodies, before going to bed in opposite sides of the house. Despite the magnitude of the Chelsea win, Cole was still banned from partying, so rumour has it that a disappointed Jay Nicholls went home with a bouncer from Yates’, who she insisted was sick on her floor and then fell asleep while still inside her.

Cheryl Goes it Alone in More Ways than One

Over the last year or so, Girls Aloud have kind of imploded, with Irish sex-kitten Nadine telling anyone who’ll listen that she wants out of the group to pursue a somewhat ill-conceived acting career. Walking lingerie mannequin Sarah Harding has also been keen to go her own way, reportedly cutting demos last year with Faithless legend Rollo, while Cheryl has obviously been embroiled in a very public soap opera with estranged husband Ashley Cole. Er, not sure about the other two but presumably they will be back stacking shelves in Tescos pretty soon.

Now though it seems that Ms Tweedy too is prepared to embark on a solo career, buoyed on by the success of her guest appearance in Black Eyed Peas frontman Will.I.Am’s recent single. Cheryl has hooked up with British producer T2, who hit chart success last year with garage throwback tune Heartbroken, and has a big following within the football community apparently. The tune itself was 2-step-by-numbers, but he managed to attract Micah Richards and Anton Ferdinand to appear in the video, and get this for endorsement, word is that David Beckham even has it as his ringtone! Cool!

T2 is in real demand at the moment, working with such luminaries as Kelly Rowland and Natasha Beddingfield, but Cheryl is keen to have this new urban heavyweight mastermind her reinvention as a ‘serious’ artist. A gal pal told The Sun today: “Cheryl and T2 have been in discussions about her solo material. He is the man of the moment, with a lot of pop acts clamouring for his expertise on collaborations.” It’s kind of hard to imagine Cheryl laying down a garage track, despite her street credibility of fighting and wearing trucker caps, but whatever the musical outcome, let’s all hope for a slutty video at the very least, hopefully involving booty grinding and an impromptu pillow fight.

It could well be one to enjoy with the sound off, so for a considerably better garage fix, STT recommends you check out Burial. The man is the realness.

The Lust of the Rings

After a couple of months of clinging desperately to his rapidly sinking relationship, it seems that Ashley Cole has finally come to terms with reality and removed his wedding ring. The Sun cleverly had a pap hidden in a Burger King bin at a service station yesterday to capture everyone’s favourite love-rat depressingly buying a couple of Ginsters slices and a copy of Razzle: Reader’s Wives to help numb the obvious pain. This comes just weeks after rumours of a second wedding this summer would reconnect the mismatched pair, and the same day as Ashley declared that he would be whisking Cheryl away afterwards for a luxurious Caribbean holiday to lay the foundation for a new chapter in their lives together. Thankfully to show that there is some justice in the world, this appears to all be a complete fabrication, with Cole nowhere near forgiven for his unbelievably busy hands, despite the fact that they are back living together in his Surrey home.

Word on the street is that they sleep in different bedrooms as far away from each other as possible, and they barely talk. No change for Ashley then, but the normally garrulous Cheryl is apparently struggling to get over his indiscretion and forgive him, let alone forget what happened. A (presumably fictional) friend of Ashley’s revealed to The Sun: “Ashley has been miserable these past few months and Cheryl’s really made him pay for what he did. He thinks the holiday will be the final gesture that will make things go back to the way they were before he was caught out. He even hopes the sex ban will end while they’re away.” That’s right Ashley, girls are easy to work out; throw some money their way and everything will be ok. While living in this egotistically amoral bubble, Cole seems to have forgotten that not all girls are actually prostitutes, so chances of him getting anywhere near Cheryl’s sensuous coconut skin, or papaya-enriched hair, or nimble tongue, or moist...wait what was my point? Kind of drifted off there for a minute. Basically, he ain’t tapping that ass ever again.

Ever the gentleman, Ashley has also offered her a trip to his secret Saint-Tropez mansion as an alternative, but as you can see he’s failed once again to grasp the cause of her objections. A gal pal of Cheryl’s said she was understandably embarrassed at being seen with the certified cheat: “Cheryl accepted Ashley back because she loves him. But she’s finding it hard to put his cheating behind her. She could refuse the holiday offers all together. He has a long way to go before he wins back the place he used to have in her heart – and her bed.”

The bottom line is that Ashley really needs to just take responsibility for his actions and shut up, but being a footballer that is probably outside the realms of possibility. As The Spoiler so rightly suggested, the only way he could possibly endear himself back to everyone outside of his own family is to pay each of us a personal visit and apologise for generally being such an obnoxious piece of shit.

Stamford Slag Spotting

As a footballer, when you have something to celebrate, who should your first phone call be to? Family, friends, or even close rivals to gloat? Wrong, wrong, wrong, you’ve just failed Football 101. The correct answer is of course, a load of former Big Brother whores, and with progression to the Champions League semi-finals to glory in, Chelsea players including John Terry, Joe Cole and Frank Lampard, did exactly that. Top-class girls Chantelle Houghton and Chanelle Hayes therefore went out on the lash with them in London’s Funky Buddha nightclub two nights ago, along with other such luminaries as cricketer Kevin Pieterson and egg-chaser Matt Stevens. Also in attendance was professional nobody Calum Best, who seems to have thankfully finally stopped telling people he’s good enough to play league football, but just doesn’t want to. Someone had clearly taken recent exception to him however, as the self-proclaimed ‘hunk’ was actually sporting a black-eye on the night. Conspicuous by his absence however was the somewhat emasculated Ashley Cole, who was presumably back home rubbing Cheryl’s feet and pleading to get the key to the box that she keeps his testicles in.

Anyway, everyone’s favourite orange pair of blow-up dolls seem to have forged quite a friendship of late, easily hurdling the confusion that their similar sounding names was expected to cause between them. It has been suggested that combined they have sucked off literally every single registered Premier League star, however STT is yet to confirm such libellous and completely unfair claims. While expand-a-chest Chantelle (originally famous for not being famous right; why couldn’t she have stayed that way?) is happily enjoying a relationship with Jennifer Ellison's ex-boyfriend, it was Chanelle who was basically flying solo in need of a publicity boost…I mean, new date. Unfortunately for the Posh wannabe however, there weresurprisingly no takers, and she left as she’d arrived, alone with Chantelle. I’d love to know exactly what her tactics are in these situations, and whether she is actually prepared to waste time talking to anyone who isn’t a footballer. One expects her desperation to have almost bottomed out now but this week’s performance shows no signs of her taking the hint to just fuck off.

The undoubted highlight of the night however involved someone you’ve probably never heard of, junior Chelsea goalkeeper Lenny Pidgeley, currently on loan at Milwall. The 18-year-old clearly got a little bit too excited at the sight of actual real-life girls, drank his bodyweight in shots, and then had to be unceremoniously thrown out of the club by unamused bouncers. Note the third bouncer holding him by what looks like his yoghurt-chucker. What a hero.

Gameweek 30.5 - A Tale of Two Coles

Happy Thursday to the faithful and welcome to a first for STT - a midweek Premiership roundup. As of today, all teams have played the same number of game and some predictions and wild genralisations can be drawn from the table. Firstly, let's have a look at last night's matches.

Manchester United extended their lead at the top of the table from nil points to 3 with a professional dismemberment of a fairly lacklustre Bolton side, who have now slipped out of Europe and are in serious danger of playing in the Real League next year. Stand-in captain Cristiano Ronaldo made sure the game was over a s acontest after 20 minutes, with a scambled goal from insode the box and another beautiful free-kick from 25 yards, which Al Habsi had no chance of saving. These strikes equalled and then broke George Best's scoring record for a United winger in a season, taking Ronaldo's tally to 33 for the season.

The other encounter of the night was an absolute goalfest and can be seen here. In the end, 8 goals were scored as the teams ended level in a game where Spurs were never a head, but deserved to be. Drogba opened the scoring in the third minute, only for Chelsea's Carling Cup tormentor Johnathan Woodgate to pull one back with his own coiffured barnet. Essien grabbed one back and Chelsea led as the players had their oranges, a lead which was increased by Joe Cole after the break, as he slipped the shackles of Chimbonda and put the ball underneath Paul Robinson. Cole's display was up there with his best in a blue shirt and proved tonic to the dour and methodical football that Chelsea have been accused of playing this season. Berbatov then beat John Terry to a header from a corner, before Tom 'Big Gut' Huddlestone fired a great left footed equaliser. Cole added his second in then 80th minute, making Chimbonda once again look like a klutz, before Robbie Keane scored the goal of the game with a banana shot around Cudicini from outside the box. Phew.

The score would have been higher if it had not been for two fantastic saves from Carlo Cudicini, which saved a point for the Blues. However, the most controversial incident occured just before half-time, when Ashley Cole ploughed into Alan Hutton at pace and very high. After the customary Chelsea referee intimidation party, led by head bully John Terry, Cole was only given a yellow for what was a pretty nasty challenge. Even when he was getting booked, he was being a dickhead, as he turned his back on Mike Riley. For his troubles, the normally relaxed Gus Poyet got all up in his grill as the teams entered the tunnel at halftime.

Cole has today apologised for his twattishness, both to Hutton and to Riley, but this is most likely thanks to the popular clamour for further action against him. Yet again, the FA has refused to change a ruling on the field, as it has always done. Can't it just make an exeption for Ashley? Please?

Girl Not Allowed

Wow that was clever play on words wasn’t it. Practically wrote itself though, as today a gal pal of Cheryl Tweedy has revealed that the Geordie beauty is prepared to let love rat Ashley Cole back into her Surrey home and give him another chance. The pair split earlier this year amid stories that the Chelsea bench-warmer had cheated on her with some absolute hound, and then subsequently been sick on her carpet while doing the nasty. Apparently a ‘Roman Shower’ wasn’t on her fantasy list, so she did what any sensible girl would do in that situation and that’s call The Sun as fast as humanly possible. There is one condition for their trial reunion however; there is to be no sex for at least the next six months, and although apparently he’s going to find it incredibly hard, he’s acquiesced (that means ‘agreed’ if you’re reading Ashley) to her demands. Now, a dry spell of that length has got to be enough to kill anyone inside, but imagine the frustration of actually living with such a lithe vixen and still not being able to release your bollock yoghurt. A conveniently unnamed close friend of the pair offered this great summarizing comment: “When Cheryl took her vows she meant them, Ashley obviously didn’t — he’s got one more chance to get it right.” He/she then went on to conclude with such a delightfully glib statement that one would imagine several writers at The Sun are still chuckling about it: “Ashley is famous for his ball control, but this will be the ultimate test!”

It is a predicament of epic proportions, and calls to mind the ancient story of Tantalus, who was punished in Greek mythology with temptation without satisfaction, providing the archetype for modern definitions of ‘tantalising.’ This specifically involved him standing in a pool of water for eternity beneath a fruit tree with low branches, but whenever he reached for the food, the branches raised from his grasp, and whenever he bent down to get a drink, the water receded before he could get even a taste to quench his thirst.

If anything though that scenario is actually preferable to the thought of being in the same house that Ms Tweedy undresses, showers and exercises in without being allowed anywhere near her! Get to know freeones.com Ashley, it’s your new best friend for what will undoubtedly be the longest six months of your life…

Therapy Schmerapy

Seriously Cheryl, when in history has talking about your problems ever solved anything? Everyone knows that the only way to get your life back on track is to sleep with a blog-writer (preferably an award winner). Anyway, this week Ms Tweedy has turned to a self-professed love doctor in a last gasp effort to save her sham of a marriage to Chelsea bench-warmer Ashley Cole, seeing the therapist twice-a-day to stay emotionally stable. The counsellor has suggested the couple attend some sessions together, and Cole must also meet a quack several times by himself to help understand why he is fundamentally such a twat. The ex-England defender is said to be mortified at the idea of talking not in football cliches, even cleverly joking with team-mates that the whole therapy idea is nothing but “mumbo jumbo.”

(L-R) vomit inducing Aimee, trashy Brooke and horse frightening Coralie

Since the story of his romantic vomiting adventure with Aimee Walton broke in the press, further harlots have come out of the woodwork claiming he had sex with them too. The illustrious list now reads as follows according to The Daily Star: hairdresser Aimee Walton, 23; model Brooke Healy, 23; and brunette Coralie Robinson, 26 (presumably being ‘brunette’ is considered a job these days). The latter two both claim that in the last few years Cole has had one night stands with them, only to bung them some cash in the morning to keep them quiet; £6,000 to Healy, but £10,000 to Robinson. STT wonders that even if you don’t actually ask for it up front, but still accept money the morning after sex, does that make you a whore?

Cheryl’s answer is to draw up a so-called marriage charter (insert your own Magna Carta pun here), and demand Ashley signs it before even considering letting him back near her honey pot. This includes stipulations that he makes at least one romantic gesture a week, ditches his boozy pals and spends more quality time with her. An unnamed gal pal helpfully added: “Without this Cheryl won’t consider rebuilding her marriage.”

In all seriousness, if they do agree to get back together, STT suggests Ashley ignore all of this emotional crap, and instead plan a quick-fix solution such as getting her knocked up. Not that we’d ever condone having a band-aid baby to keep a girl who you’re punching above your weight with, we have heard however that replacing contraceptive pills with peanut M&Ms is a certain Hollywood actor’s signature move…

Roflcopter!

Ca$hley Begs for Another Chance

Just hours before the “highlight of the British music calender” kicked off last night at Earls Court, Cheryl Tweedy came face-to-face with Ashley Cole for the first time since revelations about him trying to sex with a fat girl and being sick on her came to light. They got together in an exclusive Kensington hotel for about an hour, where in a microcosm of their whole relationship, he pleaded on bended knee while she lay on the bed crying. The Sun did the country a great service by having a guy standing in the room next door with a glass up against the walls listening in to this emotional showdown. He had these words: “Cole knew this was his last chance, but he still hasn’t been forgiven. Cheryl was a wreck. All the recovering she has done in the last three weeks was blown away by seeing Ashley again.”

Following a relaxing vacation in Thailand and a stint in LA to record a slutty new music video, Cheryl still seemed pretty stressed later as Girls Aloud paraded themselves on the red carpet minus Irish trouser-tightener Nadine, who has supposedly quit the band this week. The tanned Cheryl took great pride in showing off her ring-less hand, while the press took great pride in trying to get up-skirt photos of the four girls.

In other slightly relevant football news, Peter Crouch’s main squeeze Abbey Clancy, that well-known musical talent, was also at the BRIT Awards last night for some reason. However, in a practical joke of Jimmy Bullard-esque proportions, she was tricked into wearing a see through dress:

Super Skinny Cheryl

Why do girls these days suddenly feel the need to plummet to stick-thin wierdos the second their heart get broken by guys who were obviously dickheads from the start? Whatever happened to the good old tradition of comfort-eating?! Complete with it’s newly printed degree in psychology from Open University, STT would like to suggest that for someone usually in the public eye, this rapid weight-loss is the manifestation of a desire to disappear completely, and for once, simply fade into the background for the time-being. Heavy is the head that wears the crown as they say.

As you can see from these somewhat sad pictures, Cheryl Tweedy has been the latest to follow in this trend, dropping down to a miniscule 6 stone while on holiday with gal pals in Thailand. Bandmates Nicola and Kimberley (the two not-so-hotties) have reportedly been encouraging Cheryl to eat, but according to some idiot who called The Sun yesterday, “she mostly just jumps up from the table after a few mouthfuls and grabs a fag. Because of the stress, Cheryl’s chain-smoking her way through 40 a day.”

This same fellow guest at the luxury resort also revealed how she overheard the exsasperated star telling a friend on a phone call: “Don’t treat me like a victim. I’m not a fucking victim, I’m a grown woman.” To combat this understandable anger and grief, Cheryl’s manager has thoughtfully hired her a Buddhist ‘spiritual guru’ to visit the villa and talk through things with the Geordie vixen. Might we suggest instead a couple of ladyboys and a sprinkle of opium? Well you never see any Thai people upset do you? Must be something to do with their natural resources!

It’s sad because it was always just so predictable; marriages between two individual stars in the public eye so rarely ever work, and when they do, you always get the feeling that it’s only due to mutual beneficence anyway. Perhaps these hot popstars and young actresses need to start looking outside of the usual pools for love-everlasting? Instead of a footballer or TV presenter, maybe they should try dating...I don’t know…say, a website writer??

Anyway, after the unpleasantness of seeing Ms Tweedy’s ribs through her back, check out her and the other ladies looking spanktastic in this exclusive new Girls Aloud video called ‘Can’t Speak French.’ It’s a great song (maybe; I watched it with the sound off) and I think we could probably all do with a bit of cheering up in the trouser region on this most pointless of Hallmark Holidays: