Dan Prince Slates The World…
Still giggling at Paul Gascoigne on ITV’s Loose Women show. Admitting when in rehab because “I honestly wanted to chop one of my feet off because of my Obsession Compulsive Disorder when the doctors made me start putting on my right shoe instead of my left first.” Is it any wonder this guy is still fucked up? Addressing a shoe problem before alcoholism? Brilliant?
So, as Britain’s gone mad – it’s official. TV chef Nigella Lawson’s voice is the one most motorist’s want to hear from their Sat Navs. Billy Connolly second, Julie Walters third. I’m sorry, is it me or wouldn’t you want some really dirty bitch from Sweden instructing you how to get to Coventry?
To the Cannes Film Festival where Paris Hilton’s ‘people’ asked a very upmarket company – “So how much will you pay Paris to attend your party?” The reply? “We’ll pay her not to.” And also from Cannes, loved the rumours about 50 Cent snogging TV presenter Liz Fuller.
The couple who bought and converted a double decker bus into a bar and dancefloor – please please don’t book Cliff Richard.
Wayne Rooney’s missus Coleen on Richard & Judy – “I’m going to come back in the next life as a whale.” That’s TV for you.
Some people are so stupid. This student in Perth, Australia found she won 6.4million on the Lottery – ten months ago after rifling through tickets. Why go on the Lottery and not check your numbers. Still, fair play to her.
You know when you are in the wrong place at the wrong time? How gutted was I when I heard about half a tonne of pure Cocaine worth £30 million fell off the back of a lorry in France heading to London on Saturday.
Now I know I have a reputation with the fillies, but the tale of Desmond Hatchett in Knoxville, Tennessee who has set a new USA records for fathering 21 children with 11 women – and can’t afford child support. Shame his town isn’t called Knobville.
Laughed out loud at this one – a man dressed as a chicken at a fancy dress party at a nightclub in Lincolnshire ran after another man who was dressed as a gorilla and bit his ear completely off after the ape touched the chicken’s girlfriend up.
Pity the poor OAP in Poole, Dorset who took his new car in to get his fuel tank fixed after it got a leak – and the mechanic found £100,000 worth of Cocaine – bet he shit himself.
Natalie Dylan over in Nevada is re-auctioning her virginity after a 2.4million bid was blocked – by his wife. Is it me or is everyone mad?
Eminem’s hotel getting ransacked after his failed prank at the MTV Music Awards seeing his £40,000 neck chain stolen. If that ain’t a press blag then I’m a China man.
Loved those pictures of Britney Spears’ knockers.
Those poor women down in Cornwall who were on a bouncy castle at a fair on the beach in Falmouth which got loose in high winds and sailed out to sea. They must have shit their knickers.
Paul Conroy – Tells Us About His Festival Madness
I love a good festival, there is always a good story to tell. Playing a packed out tent for Slinky, doing my radio show from a fucking hot dog van, interviewing Howard Marks, being on stage with Tiesto, warming up for X-Press 2 at Escape Into The Park. Being mistaken for Pete Tong – but playing at Homelands a few years back has to be one of the funniest.
It had been a long sunny day with a free bar and I was given the honour of playing the last set. By the time I went on stage I was so off my tits I thought it would be funny to do the whole set bollock naked from the waist down. Energy 52 Cafe Del Mar pumping out the sound system to thousands of big smiley faces dancing in a tent, behind me a load of sound engineers pissing themselves at the view of my cock and arse – I was even joined on stage by Lee Patterson of Deepgroove who I remember was stood to my left thumbing through my CDs with his kecks round his ankles obeying my new stage rules. The journey home was epic too. I was being driven in a logoed radio station Jeep – so how the fuck we were mistaken for a fucking taxi I will never know? “Winchester Centre please” said the random in a straw hat who jumped in the back as we sat in the festival exit traffic. “We are not a fucking taxi I replied”. What are you then, a fucking UFO’?” Not the dumbest question to ask to be fair as at that stage in the morning without my sunglasses on I actually looked like E fucking T. After pulling out a bag of skunk, a conversation about helicopters, camel toes and artificial turf, Tim who was driving me took pity on the silly sod and decided to drop him home. What a great idea, driving into the city centre of Winchester after a rave. We were stuck in traffic for an hour and a fucking half with this prick in the back laughing to himself for no reason at all. And when we eventually made it to Winchester, he said “I don’t live here mate” – “where do you fucking live then?’ I replied. “I can’t remember”.
So after leaving our new best friend in a hedge skunkless with a piss stain on his trousers, we headed along the M4 back to Bristol. In front of us by a few miles was a group of my fucked mates who were in a hired stretch limo, the type you normally see pissed slags screaming out of as they drive past you in town. We caught up with them then side by side at 60 mph wound down the window and started passing a bottle of champagne to each other and for some stupid fucking reason I decided to abandon Radio Jeep and dive 007 stylee through the open window of the limo…maybe Tim my driver was boring me – maybe it was because I wanted to see what colour carpet the limo had, or maybe it’s because I’m a twat when I’m fucked?! Tim, who was stone cold sober, shit himself and as I opened the door he put his foot down leaving me hanging head first out the Jeep clutching an empty bottle of Moet. All that was needed was for me to throw up at that moment and what a fucking great advert for the radio station on a Motorway at eleven on a Sunday morning that would have been.