Her name was Tallulah, she lived till she died

As we poured ourselves into the thinning streets of a drizzly Vauxhall in the early hours of Sunday morning last, the sound of ‘Last Dance’ a damp echo in our ears, we took what’s technically known as ‘a moment’ and paused for thought. We’d been dancing to the tunes of the DJ’s DJ, Severino, in Horse Meat Disco’s Lovebox special at Area. It was time for the weekend to begin winding down - the first weekend in six decades, since long before the legalisation of homosexuality, that a certain queer old dame known as Tallulah could be said to be well and truly off the planet. Severino had just dedicated the last song of the last set of Saturday night to him. And a big bunch of queers threw a cheer.

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Dangers to themselves and others

Having watched his daughter go insane and be sectioned by the State and go insane and be sectioned by the State again and… so on, Jamie Spears has taken the bull by the horns and Britney under his wing at last, is assuming full responsibility for her welfare and is gonna give her a bloody good hiding. For a fee. Let’s hope it works because she’s in danger of becoming California’s answer to Kerry Katona and that would be just … fat.

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We’re all doomed

When you fill the army with fags and dykes and spit in the face of God, you have sown the wind, and shall reap the whirlwind (Hos. 8:7).

You’ve got to hand it to the Reverend Fred Phelps, of Westboro Baptist Church. He’s not just your average cunt, he’s a persistent cunt, and possibly the most organised and efficient cunt we’ve ever come across. Basically, he’s a professional cunt.

A professional cunt who’s also a clever cunt with an uncommonly keen eye for good copy. He’s such an eloquent cunt he should really be working in advertising; he’s completely wasted on God.

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