Fat Skeleton Out of the Closet

Out in Italy we've seen the majority of the Rooney and McLoughlin families partying on down, losing any existing dignity by the second as they celebrate the nuptials of our Wayne and our Coleen. However, what many people don't realise is that the Rooney family actually contains a couple of sheep so (mataphorically) black that they make Wayne's younger brother Graham look as refined as that guy Raef off The Apprentice.

Yes, two cousins of the Manchester United striker were actually banned from the £5million bash this week that saw even riff-raff like Wes Brown invited. How unreasonable I hear you cry! Well wait until you hear why before imparting judgement. You see young Natalie, 18, has not only pledged to imbark on a career getting her enhanced cans out for lads' mags, but actually shamed the WAGtastically hot couple last year at Coleen's magical 21st birthday party by flashing the country's media one of her sweater melons. Stephen however is a different kettle of fish altogether; is a 24-year-old gay transvestite, who often dresses up like Ginger Spice, Geri Halliwell, and as you can see from the pics, he's quite a big chap.

To voice his indignation he has also appeared in a not-at-all-embarassing photo shoot for high-brow thinking mag Reveal this week, dressed up both as groom Wayne, but also as bride Coleen, in an exact copy of her wedding dress. Stephen candidly said: “(Coleen) wants to be the princess on the biggest day of her life. She idolises Posh, but doesn’t want a wedding like hers because she thinks it was tacky with all those gold thrones. Coleen will have her best friend Claire as her bridesmaid – but she should've picked me!” Great contribution there Stephen, and thanks to Reveal for offering such a valuable insight into this important story that millions around the country were clamoring for more information on.

Obviously this all begs many questions about his sanity, but to round off the story, the happy-go-lucky brother and sister pair decided to celebrate their wedding snub by joining the legions of other complete wastes of oxygen in this country by auditioning for Big Brother earlier this year. Unsurprisingly they didn't make that cut, despite being both incredibly ugly and annoying, so what next for these two fantastic members of society? Well Natalie has set her sights pretty high: "My aim is to look like Jordan, and I’ll soon be getting them out all over the place," she threatened The Sun at the start of May. And as for Stephen, well he has recently turned down offers from Armani and Calvin Klein to model for them in favour of a promising career as a genetic scientist. Only joking, he has an interview next week to get a job emptying sanitary towel bins in a Liverpool cheese club or some shit. Someone please just sterilise them both for all our childrens' sakes; it's a pretty big red flag when you're deemed not classy enough for a Liverpuddlian wedding where the combined IQ of the happy couple is still only double figures...

Wayne, Please Get Photographed Receiving a Wristy off a Trannie

For those of you down with the cool crowd, it should go without saying what happens next week. Our Wayne and his lovely moron of a fiancée, Coleen McLoughlin, are finally getting married in what we can only describe as a truly grotesque ceremony at an Italian ex-monastery. But before every wedding there must first come a stag, and for a man with bottomless spending power, this was never going to be any normal stag. Apparently Coleen assured herself and gal pals that Wayne wouldn’t be going the usual 10-pints-and-a-stripper route, but instead was planning a more family-based “quiet” stag do. How women are masters of convincing themselves that the patently ridiculous is true...

Obviously having a couple of lemonades and talk about his feelings isn’t exactly Wayne’s style, so it should come as no surprise to most of you that instead he is going on a massive four-day bender to Ibiza with 16 friends. The England striker, conveniently free this summer, has hired a luxurious villa and done the sensible thing by stocking it with hundreds of pounds worth of housewives’ favourite, Stella Artois. The Sun got the real inside scoop on this story though, usefully adding that the streetwise and manly group additionally wanted to neck bottles of pregnant-teenagers’ tipple-of-choice: WKD alcopops. Alas the local villa slaves, sorry I mean staff, were unable to find a single bottle of the subtly flavoured nectar on the magical island, so instead have they shall have to resort to Smirnoff Ice. Great contribution there guys, that incredibly incidental fact really ties the whole story together. Anyway, quite why a group of tough, grown men (and Wayne’s two brothers) would go anywhere near WKD or Smirnoff Ice is beyond me, but I guess maybe they all want to do a bit of avant-garde gender reversal.

Sickeningly the villa costs almost as much to rent for the week as I earn in a year, and comes complete with a swimming pool (la-di-da your majesty), a maid service (happy endings presumably included) and a pretentious white ivory piano that I guarantee none of them can play and will probably end up getting smashed before the motley crew fly home. Ever the disciplinarian, Coleen has warned the group (which strangely includes her father and uncle) not to play any pranks on Wayne that could ruin their wedding photos. That proves that love truly is blind, because anyone with any sense would realize that pretty much anything that could be inflicted on Wayne would surely only be an improvement. An anonymous answer phone message told us: “Coleen has also asked Wayne to get a tan for the pictures, so he won’t be stumbling out of clubs at 8am and then going to bed.” Like I said earlier, women can be so stupid. Within the next 24 hours expect to see a photo on this site of Wayne gurning his face off at midday somewhere, bright-red like a lobster.

Flutter By My Love

Saying footballers’ weddings are tacky is like saying the BNP are racist, but even within the tasteless circles we have become accustomed to, this is pretty bad. I mean not quite the Aladdin-themed abortion that was the Jordan/Peter Andre nuptials, but still a wankfest of the highest order. Yes, everyone’s favourite couple Wayne Rooney and Coleen McLoughlin are preparing to tie the knot officially this summer (June 14^th to be precise so get it in your diaries now), with a huge Italian monastery the surprisingly classy location of choice. It all goes dramatically downhill from here though; the theme is ‘butterflies,’ and each guest will be given a hand-made box containing a live butterfly to open at the same time. Seriously. An overly-enthusiastic source told us: “The butterfly release will make everyone gasp with amazement. It’s a beautiful sight, the day is going to be magical. They’ve chosen the Riviera’s most picturesque spot.” I’m not quite sure people will be gasping with “amazement” but whatever, it’s symbolic apparently.

Obviously Wayne had no say in this, so the buck has to stop with Coleen. She probably thinks it’s clever but it just sounds embarrassingly bad. The mysterious source continued: “Releasing the butterflies symbolises the freedom to be their own people within marriage.” Interesting; I always thought birds represented freedom, but what do I know? Butterflies are much prettier and they fit easily in a box. Anyway, the two-day affair sounds like a right good old knees-up, with plenty of posh slap-up grub, a disco on a yacht, and most excitingly, a slice of Wayne’s famous ‘hip-hop karaoke’ after the vows have taken place. Word on the street is that he does a mean version of Snoop Dogg’s classic 90s hit What’s My Muthfuckin Name, so look forward to that if you’re lucky enough to make the 50-guest cut.

It’s the hottest ticket in town apparently too: a recent poll found out that ¾ of Brits would rather attend the Rooney/McLoughlin wedding than the next Royal one. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, or whether it’s just depressing that polls like that get carried out in the first place.

Supermarket Catwalk

Bizarrely there are teenage girls around the country who actually aspire to be Coleen McLoughlin. Not in a wow-she’s-so-lucky-to-be-with-a-hottie-like-Wayne-Rooney kind of way, but in the frankly terrifying (not to mention depressing) sense that she’s a role model for girls growing up. Rather than wanting to be a doctor or a lawyer, for example, thousands of girls would prefer to hook up with as aspiring footballer in an attempt to ride their coat-tails into the celebrity circuit where they’re free to pursue, ahem, modelling careers of their own. It’s not a new problem, but it’s certainly a constantly irksome one.

Don’t get me wrong though, this isn’t Coleen’s fault at all, and if anything she’s consistently tried to play down her own fame in comparison to the yearly selection of Big Brother tarts and Pop Idol rejects, instead concentrating on slightly more lofty, and shall we say, ‘social’ projects. She embraced the role of ambassador for the common woman (not in an insulting way), and some magazines even call her a style icon to the average girl in the face of other British celebrities who pride themselves on designer labels and exclusive bespoke jewellery (otherwise known as ‘tat’).

Terrible news today then that the premier fashion outlet for gyro-scum, Asda, has axed our Coleen as the face of their ‘George’ range. Putting aside the bizarre decision to call their women’s range a sexually-ambiguous name (not all trannies can afford Asda clothes you know), this strikes STT as a terrible move. For some reason, the supermarket chain no longer wants the “WAG image” for its clothing line, and according to the press release, instead is seeking “a more glamorous look.” So who are they turning to in this time of crisis, you might ask? Strangely the number one choice is Carla Bruni, wife of the current French President. Not wanting to cast wild generalisations, but do they really think that anyone who actually buys clothes from Asda is going to know who the hell she is?

Asda spokesman Ed Watson said of the French ex-model: “She’s very attractive and a highly stylish person. We feel she would fit in very well with the George look.” Er, have you not actually seen the ‘George look’ Mr Watson? I’ve heard of creative advertising, but when most of the stuff looks like it was found in the bin at a blind school, surely this is a case for trading standards. He continued to say that in recent months George sales have stalled as Coleen has been spotted in more designer brands, presumably such as Matalan, Umbro and Madhouse. Carla Bruni has previously modelled for Guess Jeans, Chanel, Versace and YSL, so I guess it’s understandable how the Asda vacancy might tempt her to come out of retirement.

Born Sniffing

Friends, Northerners and Journeymen, welcome to Sniffing the Touchline, your new one stop web service for all English football news, gossip, brazen lies and mascot-related hilarity.

Considering the amount of rubbish blogs currently dedicated to such Olympian titans of sport as snail racing and competitive mayonnaise eating, it is truly a tragedy that thus far no-one has manned up and established a fully comprehensive footballing node.

But wait, put down the knife and take those bullets out your 9, because finally that gaping void has now been expertly filled, and all things being well, we at STT will continue to plough that field until the metaphorical cows come home. And no, that isn’t a joke about Coleen.

This blog is born out of a true love of the game; the skills, the drama, the cheating and the truly revelationary haircuts that come with it. In true British gossip-mag style, we also aim to bring you as much heresay, rumour and public scandal as humanly possible, all written in a way that will hopefully put a smile on your face at work, or if you’re posh enough to have a Blackberry, on the toilet.