Look who it is... It's eyebrows man.

I'm bloody sick to death of... shall we call her Harlot? She's a right celebrity bitch and I have the rather unfortunate problem of having to live next to her. I know what you're thinking... 'You're a rich celebrity, why don't you just buy a bigger mansion somewhere else, you moaning bitch?' That would mean admitting defeat and I refuse to lose. So what if my solo career when down the pan quicker than Davina McCall's BBC1 chat show? (Remember that? God it was shit, wasn't it?) It doesn't mean I should let them lot take over. She's well known in the music industry and is currently taking time out to breed a new generation of spoilt chavs. Don't worry though, the current plan of trying to out breed her is going to well. I should have a full troop by 2020. At the moment, I'm having to put up with her leaving bin liners full of dirty nappies on my doorstep. The hubby wants to buy a pellet gun to shoot her but it will only bounce off the flab. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention she's the size of a bloody horse.

God this blog post is getting sidetracked. Back to me... At the moment, it's Swine Flu this, Swine Flu that. I'm shitting myself because if I get it and die, what will the world do without me? The glossy magazines would go bust, that's for sure. People would have to start reading broadsheets. Do you want that to happen? Do want really want to know what this man actually does:

I'm quite happy not knowing to be honest. I want to continue pointing and laughing at his eyebrows. This is why I'm launching a SAVE ANONYMOUS CELEBRITY FROM SWINE FLU campaign. The campaign aims to get me a government funded private island where I can stay until all this Swine Flu crap is over. The money is better spent on me then Tamiflu, that's for sure. I'll be posting more details on the campaign soon including a means of donating money to me. I deserve to be saved so that I can continue to provide the (surviving) British public entertainment. Thank you for your time.

xx