Scotland’s Jesus and My Shit Life So Far 2-in-1 Collection. Frankie Boyle
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by his face, so’s his plastic surgeon. Simon looks like he’s had the Botox applied by someone whose only qualification is a three-week upholstery course they took in prison. On the plus side for Simon, at least his hair’s no longer the weirdest looking thing on his head.
What about that Simon Cowell biography by Tom Bower? It described the life of a tortured genius. Perhaps a slight overstatement, though I’d do anything to make that phrase just half true. He’s had so many affairs! Simon managed to keep them secret by only ever having sex with all these women in the privacy of his publicist’s imagination. The author had access to Simon’s entire inner circle – mainly soft toys who’ve attained a level of higher trust by having their button eyes removed. The book costs £18.99. Though if you sent me £9.99 I’ll gladly send you my summary in an old Pringles tube.
Simon wasn’t available for further comment. He’s believed to be in an aircraft hanger full of tenners somewhere, a leaf blower in each hand, gleefully shrieking beyond the audible human spectrum. And in a desperate search for scandal, hidden cameras have been installed in all the X Factor backstage rooms. This shit running for eight years isn’t considered scandal enough.
It seems that Simon was ‘feeling very low’ over the rev-elations about his private life, according to a press release to promote the revelations about his private life. A lot of girls Simon has slept with are coming out of the woodwork. Well, from the look of them they’re coming out of the waxworks. I don’t believe it he did it eleven times in one night – glamour model Alicia Douvall just doesn’t look like that sort of woman, the type that can count. I’ll bet Simon can, if the guy is hot enough. I’m joking – I really mean, if the guys are hot enough. I’m joking – I really mean, if they guys are paid enough. I’m joking – I really mean, if the guys are finished in the recording studio. Only kidding. Simon’s said he doesn’t care if people think he’s gay as it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not true, Simon. If it turned out you were gay the homo-sexual community would be extremely ashamed.
Yes, in Bower’s book the cat is out of the bag. Simon’s a tiger in the sack. He’s ruined more springs than a Scottish weatherman. The book says he tried to shag Cheryl, but she told him she didn’t want to spoil the happiness she’d found. She was dying of malaria at the time. These endless stories about Simon being unlucky in love are his best chance of looking human since he stopped living with a professional make-up artist. You can’t make Simon seem human! I’ve got more chance of sympathising with a dry-stone wall that falls on a toddler.
Simon’s been likened to a Roman emperor – how times have changed. While Nero had the power to end a gladiator’s life, Simon orders the mentally challenged to sing ‘Mama Do the Hump’ while their leggings sag around their arse. Dannii Minogue had an affair with Simon. Now we know why she spells her first name that way; she wants to distance herself as much as possible from the reality of who she is. He said, ‘It was her sexy clothes and tits – it was genuine love.’ Remind me, in which of Shakespeare’s love sonnets does he compliment a lady’s clothes and tits again?
No wonder Dannii went from Simon to a rugby player. Once she’d bought the strap-on, she may as well use up its warranty. Dannii went to Twitter to ask for privacy, displaying the same logic as when she turned to Simon for love. Resorting to Twitter to ask for privacy is a bit like asking a zombie horde for a vegetarian gravy recipe. It’s said Simon liked to treat the female judges like ‘toys’ – presumably, then, Dannii was a doll who’s face has been repaired and Sharon was one that was used too much by rough kids then left in a carrier bag out the front of Oxfam.
Simon’s got a woman – Lauren Silverman – pregnant. It seems the conception was touch and go, Lauren almost regaining consciousness halfway through as she’d only eaten half the chocolate mousse. Simon claims he never wanted children. Which, to be honest, is probably the best thing to say when you’re in the music industry and Operation Yewtree are buzzing about. It’s the age-old story – millionaire flat-topped androgyne impregnates property mogul’s wife on ocean-going yacht. The woman’s husband must be gutted – after all, he only invited Simon on holiday so he could use his man-tits as a travel pillow. It’s Sinitta who I feel sorry for – if she doesn’t play nice with the new baby she’ll be put in a cattery.
I think he’ll be a good dad – surely there’s no way he’s able to sleep at night anyway. He likes the idea of being a dad. Of course he does. Who doesn’t like the idea of being a dad? Even women like the idea of being a dad. Never having to do the night feeds. Taking a week off work and then never really having to spend any time with the kid until it’s seven. Being a dad is great.
Except, of course, when it isn’t. When all you want is to be as far away from your offspring as possible. That’s why they’re called ‘offspring’, because most of the time you’d like to go off without your children and come back sometime around spring.
Then again, Simon has the money to make it work. As dads, which one of us hasn’t at some point wanted to turn our backs on the kid and climb into a helicopter, and, as it hovers above our home with a bearing set for the south of France, shower the nannies with £20 notes while shouting over the noise of the rotors, ‘Good luck, Consuela; the little fucker’s your problem – see you next spring’?
Simon hasn’t the patience to sit through fifteen seconds of a ventriloquist’s act. How’s he ever going to deal with a toddler saying ‘toast’ repeatedly for four hours? People in Simon’s circle said the pregnancy seemed very out of character. Which is an understated way of saying, ‘HOLY SHITBALLS! THIS AIN’T RIGHT! THE GUY’S MORE BENT THAN THE ZIMBABWEAN ELECTIONS!!’
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I always wonder why, on Britain’s Got Talent, they cut back to Amanda Holden for reactions? Her face doesn’t fucking move! They might as well cut to V for Vendetta, or that crystal skull Arthur C. Clarke was always banging on about. I honestly don’t know if there’s more poison in Simon’s heart or Holden’s forehead. The reason Amanda Holden gets so many Botox jabs into her forehead is to prevent all the worry lines that would result from trying to work out how shagging Les Dennis fifteen years ago qualifies her to judge a talent contest. If Holden cries any more then I’m worried the salt water will warp whatever it is her face is made out of. Mind you, Simon’s face now looks puffier than the Puffa jacket that Puff Daddy would wear on a puffin-watching trip.
Half a million pounds for the winner – Britain’s Got Talent is the only place left in the country where the mentally disabled actually get some money. This year they opened the series in the contestants’ houses to explain why they’re auditioning. How are they going to top that next year? Go back one step further and explain it by showing the contestants’ mothers downing vodka in pregnancy? It must be a weird job for David Walliams, slowly realising that every character he’s created has been surprisingly sane and realistic.
After a fourteen-year-old boy with cerebral palsy did a stand-up routine, Alesha Dixon said, ‘You were great. You made me laugh before the act even started.’ Good one, Alesha – and people said you were just a face on a stick.
Saudi Arabia’s version of the show, Buraydah’s Got Talent, isn’t going to allow singing, dancing or women. It sounds restrictive, but technically Subo could still have won it. I can’t wait for the Saudi Simon Cowell – a controlling, power-hungry man with a dislike of women.
Thailand’s Got Talent went the other way and shocked viewers with a contestant who paints using her breasts, something I’ve tried with my partner to spice things up in the bedroom. Way more trouble than it was worth, so we switched to rollers for the lounge. It’s double standards. This woman paints with her tits and gets worldwide recognition, yet when Susan Boyle does it she gets tasered outside her local chip shop and charged with graffiti.
I was sad that ITV and the BBC decided to schedule The Voice and Britain’s Got Talent against each other, because I was worried that I might finally run out of hate. I suppose it’s not a big deal because we’ve all got hard-disc recorders now. If they’re both on at the same time you can just watch something good you taped earlier that week.
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