1. For assuming that I have £1,095 to spend on Halston boots (not to mention the necessary pencil-like calves).
2. For its lazy celebrity reporting, all of which I can read on Perez Hilton (or hear from my friend Ant) before Grazia hits the newsstands.
3. For bagging brilliant TV columnist Paul Flynn and homes editor Rachel Loos, thus making me still want to buy the damn mag.
4. For never letting me win the Goodie Bag Giveaway. (Jane Bruton, if you have anything about you, you'll fix it so this week's Marc by Marc Jacobs Groovee bag is mine. It'd be a nice touch for me to win on the week you're raising money for Cancer Research, and I may even be persuaded to retract points 1 and 2.)
5. For ruining my morning with today's gloomy, cancer-themed feature, 'The Day My Children Said Goodbye To Mummy'. Thanks to this not-a-scrap-of-blue-sky story, I am now convinced that my CT scan will reveal an untreatable spread to my bones/lungs/brain, and that I ought to stop saving for Halston boots and instead open a funeral fund.
6. Oh and by the way, Grazia, the Rest Of The World has elected me to inform you that we're all sick of the cutesy celebrity-couple-name-combining schtick as well. Brangelina, Tomkat, Bennifer... and now Agbert. It's so A/W '07, dahhlings.
2 comments:
Assuming you actually did have £1,095 to spend on Halston boots, might I recommend a big fuck off plasma telly, a slap-up meal for two and a pair of Converse? You'd be way happier.
Anyway, to summarise my main point...
Rip-off boots? Depressing cancer stories? Brangelina? Twats.
PS. Who's Agbert supposed to be anyway? I'd say 'at the risk of looking unhip' in that sentence, but let's face it, I'm not fooling anyone.
Agbert = http://perezhilton.com/2008-06-25-new-couple-alert-23
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