EVERYWHERE I go, I’m bombarded with stories of celebrities, so I can only assume the same is true for you.
To make your lives easier (‘cause I’m nice like that), I’ve compiled a short story which outlines the basic lifetime of your average celebrity. Therefore, once read, you can ignore all forms of celebrity “news”. You’re welcome.
“Dear diary: 18 tomorrow. Can finally pursue my dream of glamour modelling. Having shots taken by a guy I met in the park. He thinks I have great potential.
Diary: Guy is jerk. Don’t want to talk about it. Long story short, naked pictures on internet.
Diary: New dream is to be WAG. If I can bag a footballer, I’ll be set up for life. Will have big mansion and little sports car. Vroom vroom.
Diary: Went out with the girls. My friend, Brianna-Rose-Destiny-Hope knows the bouncer of a swanky club so we blagged our way in. Lot of fit footballers inside. Used all my charm (and took my top off) to bag one. His name is Jason and he’s dreamy. Jason and I going out three weeks now. Things going very well.
Oh. My. God. Jason proposed! And it’s in the papers! Some silly woman writing about how it’s too soon but, like, we’ve been together for two months. Woman is clearly old and jealous. Must live alone with cats. But I don’t have to worry about that now, because I’ve got Jason, and we’re going to be together forever. Wedding in 12 weeks.
Diary: So many things to plan! Have been on the sunbeds every day this week. Will also get a spray tan done a few days before, just to be sure. Have ordered the horse and carriage, and also a hundred doves which will be released after the ceremony. Castle is booked, and 5,000 invites have been sent out to people. No idea who 4,947 of them are.
Dear diary: Disaster! Am pregnant. Wedding is in two weeks. Will look fat and ugly. The shame! Will suck it in and hope people will be too distracted by the 40-foot train and giant wedding cake in the shape of the Playboy bunny to notice.
Dear diary: Wedding day! Am happiest girl ever. Lots of photographers here and people from the papers wanting to do interviews. Jason here somewhere too.
Diary: It’s over! My heart is broken. Jason has been sleeping with that slag, BriannaRose-Destiny-Hope. Found texts on his phone. Am no longer speaking to her.
Dear diary: Baby born. A little boy. Have called him Orcanchio. Read it in a magazine once and thought it sounded very exotic. His daddy was there but I had him kicked out. Hope he’s a sub for the rest of the season.
Have picked up with new fella Edward James Nestor IV. Papers being cruel and labelling me a gold-digger because my Eddy-Weddy is a bit older than me, but I don’t care. He treats me like a lady and buys me lots of shoes. Also, a huge house in the country. Bigger than Jason’s.
Very exciting news! Am launching my own perfume. “Orcanchio’s Orchids”, in honour of my beautiful baby boy. Will have to wear something big and glittery for the launch. Also, more sunbeds. Divorce finally came through so need to look my best to show that two-timing toe-rag what he’s missing. Will bring Orcanchio too. That’ll really bring in the big bucks.
Fragrance a success! Am now launching my own parenting book. Sat down with man from big publishing house who asked me a few questions, then went away and wrote the book for me. Don’t know what all these authors complain about. Writing books is easy. Got sent a copy. Haven’t opened it yet, but am sure it’s a riveting read!
Wrote a song: “Jelly beans and gel nails”. Single being released next week. Exciting!
Dear diary: Eddy and I are married! Were on holidays in Vegas and came across the Little White Chapel. Woke up the next morning with hamburgers and hangovers. Have no memory of the night, but am ecstatic. Think Elvis was there.
Oh no! A grey hair. Have made appointment with hairdresser and cosmetic surgeon. Can never be too careful.
Diary: Have had things nipped and tucked and pumped and plumped. Cannot move face, but find that people don’t notice as are too busy staring at cleavage.
Diary: Sad news. Eddy-Weddy has died. Fortunately, to ease the pain of his passing, he left me millions and millions of dollars. Am now quids in and have secured my future as a lady of leisure. Am going shopping for a fabulous new outfit (or six) and then taking the girls out for a night on the town.
Except that Brianna-Rose-Destiny-Hope one. I’m still not talking to her.”