Friday, January 07, 2011

London gossip

I’m back in the Congo, where my females pester me for news from London. I attempt to satisfy their hunger for gossip with details of Elizabeth Hurley’s latest affair

Having announced her separation from her husband on Twitter, it didn’t take long for Liz to find a suitable paramour. The bloom on the rose may be fading, but there’s still enough nectar on the petals to attract a variety of pollinating insects. The lucky bug, on this occasion, was a tubby Australian sportsman called Shane Warne. More about him later. 

One particular detail of the dalliance makes my females hoot with derision. It is the involvement of Hugh Grant, Ms Hurley’s ex-boyfriend. Apparently he acted as the facilitator, driving the couple to parties and booking their hotel rooms. In the eyes of my females, this makes him the most laughable wimp and cuckold north of the Kalahari. Although I am no fan of Hugh, considering him to be meretricious dandy, I feel honour bound to defend him on this occasion. 

“An alpha male feels no jealousy when a former mate bestows her favours on another,” I declare. “It is no different, in principle, from a pride male permitting a vulture to eat his leftovers. If and when your partnership in the Bananas consortium is dissolved, you can rest assured that I will whistle in amusement if I see another silverback squatting over your hairy haunches.” 

My females respond to this statement by charging at me like enraged bulls. Fortunately, I anticipate their reaction and flee before they can mob me. I’ll probably spend a few days in the safari guesthouse until they cool down. 

I should clarify my position on Hugh Grant. My approval of his conduct is based on the assumption that he did no more than provide logistical support. If he actually encouraged the affair, possibly in the hope of comparing notes with Mr Warne afterwards, I withdraw my blessing. I would never play the pander for a former mate, no matter how lonely or lovelorn she was. Some charitable deeds demand too high a price of one’s dignity. 

The final issue to consider is whether Mr Warne was a worthy gallant for Liz. His claim to fame is as a celebrated exponent of the game of cricket, a peculiar English sport where men in white costumes hurl a hard leather ball at each other. The object of the game is to avoid being hit in the testicles, something that “Warnie” clearly achieved in his illustrious career, given the amount of post-match shagging he did. 

It’s too early to say whether Liz has demeaned herself by consorting with Warnie. He has since returned to Australia, where he was acclaimed as a national hero for nailing the posh Pommy princess. “I saw, I conquered, I came,” he wrote in the autograph book of one of his larrikin fans. Whether this is humiliating for Liz will depend on Warnie’s subsequent behaviour. If he invites her to Melbourne for another spell of leg-breaks and flippers, I think she can claim an honourable draw.

Update: The Warnie balloon has burst!

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Mr. Bananas, I certainly don't blame your females for being angry with you for your demeaning remarks about their haunches. And while I share their annoyance with your obvious disrespect of us females, I forgive you. Why? Because I am so grateful to you for explaining the game of cricket in such a clear and straightforward manner.
A meretricious dandy!!! I'm going to file that insult away and use it the next time I get really really pissed at someone.
We don't really have much love for Shane Warne around here and then to find out Hugh Grant was driving them around? What a weasel that Englishman is. No wonder she wants to divorce his sorry ass. Luckily he wasn't around when England was on their colonising mission back in the day since he'd bring down the whole country by himself with his pathetic ways. Maybe he's doing all this out of guilt, since he'd cheated on her and was found out not by one, but by all of London and the world. Head chopped off publicly once again. Next!
Given Warne's penchant for "fast bowling" I fail to see how he can satisfy any female at all...
Maybe the rumours of Ms Hurley's penchant for cricket-themed S&M are true? I suspect that she - like many others - couldn't pass up the opportunity to apply a stout bat to Mr Warne's balls.
veni vici jizzi

I have a name for a new blog. Thank you Mr Bananas.
Madam Z: I don't blame them either, Madam Z, I just can't resist an opportunity to pull their chains. I'm glad to have enlightened you about the rules of cricket - it is not a sport for the squeamish.

Robert: Be my guest, Robert, although I'd recommend choosing an apt target rather than hurling it about willy nilly. Do you know many meretricious dandies?

Ladytruth: She never married Hugh, Ladytruth, the man she's just divorced is some tycoon. I agree that Hugh is a silly man, but why is Warnie unpopular in South Africa?

Steve: He actually relied on his wrist action rather than speed. I don't know if this helped him satisfy women, but they couldn't have complained about his grip.

Kyknoord: Warnie's balls weren't that easy to hit when he was in his prime. He can't spin them as hard now, so maybe they've become an easier target.

Phil: Hah! I believe that should be "vidi, vici, jizzi".
i suspect hugh was just doing a little house cleaning after upgrading to liz2.0

or is he up to version 3.0 by now?
It is a bit of a head scratcher why she is boffing Warnie? Do you think her hubby Arun Nayar didn't have enough lead in his pencil he does look a tad metrosexual doesn't he? I think Liz is up to something - maybe she already has a stash of the cricketer's sperm in her box and is ready to give birth to a spectacularly lucrative little Mini Warnie?
Grant may be a mono-role actor who can only depict a foppish aristocrat in the throes of soiling his jodhpurs, but his plan here is clear - ship the missus off to a land far far away where she can spend her days appreciating the delights of Warne's googlies.
The amount of testosterone in this informative post was tangible. Female hindquarters and balls flying everywhere, my oh my.
Despite my natural patriotic hatred of the British, I must say that on a purely unbiased level- Hugh Grant is a twat.
Warnie is a wanker
Meretricious- what a great word. I had to look up what it meant. I'll remember ii and use it too.
I so want to do Elizabeth. Could you give her my number? I'm bettin' that ol' nectar is still yummy for the tummy.

Warnie doesn't have the "balls" to woo such a seasoned princess.

You should let the hairy females take you hostage and rob you of every drop of gorilla seed. It will put a smile on that face.
Billy: I believe Hugh is going through a teenybopper phase at the moment. It may have started in the last century.

Emma: Search me, Emma. Maybe Warnie is silver-tongued charmer beneath his barbie-on-the-beach exterior. I doubt Liz wants to have his baby. She's already been there and done that.

Indie Pop: But Liz is his ex-missus rather than his current one. Perhaps Hugh's game-plan is to win Liz back when the Warnie balloon bursts.

Hannah: I'm glad you noticed the testosterone, Hannah, it's a hormone that both sexes can enjoy. Hugh Grant is a phase that most teenage girls grow out of. I assume you were always immune.

Nursemyra: You make your point very succinctly, Nursie.

Bodaciousb: I'm glad to have enlarged your vocabulary, Ms B.

Kelly: Many men want to do Elizabeth, my friend, you'll have to wait your turn in the queue and save up for the entry fee. Female gorillas are only interested in my seed when they're in season. On other occasions they just want to sit on me.
Posh birds like a bit of rough. And I should know. Footballers are out of the question - no posh totty would deign to consort with WAGs, and besides mummy and daddy would cut orf her allowance, but cricket is played at public schools. However both English and Australian exponents of the game are getting rougher and rougher. She should follow the example of her fellow Sloane Jemima Goldsmith and find herself a good looking Pakistani boy with a sticky wicket.
What is Divine Brown the hooker up to these days? She was a special lady. You know what that episode says to me? Liz wasn't providing certain services. Of course she wasn't; she's hot; she has hot girl privilege.

Okay, I'm bitter today. I'm going to sign off . . ..
Hello Gorilla Bananas,
I have a lasting memory of a dress Liz Hurley wore that I'm sure was made up of great big pins, or something like that.
And this cricket. Apparently England retained 'The Ashes' when playing against Australia. Very strange game, you hear things like, 'sorry old chap, it's raining, you lose.'
I could consort with a man with a hair weave. It would remind me too much of macrame lessons at school. What if it suddenly came undone in a moment of passion and became tangled up in my glasses? most infra dig.
Did Mr. Grant have a male-female prostitute hiding in the backseat of the car, when escorting Ms. Hurley to her lover?
Human beings are so perverse, aren't we, GB? At least, Hugh is.
Lady Daphne: Imran Khan may be Pakistani, but he went to Oxford, so he wasn't very rough. He was very used, though, when Jemima got hold of him. Warnie used to be rough, but I'm not so sure about him now. Apparently he brushes his teeth three times a day.

Dr Ken: I don't think hot girls should be exempt from siphoning duties if they're curtsying on men's faces themselves. Divine Brown deserved her own show after servicing Hugh. I hope she now prospers in other fields.

Klahanie: Yes, I remember that dress. It had a lot of holes and not much material, as I recall.
England did retain the Ashes, which consist of powdered charcoal in a tiny urn. Only cricketers would compete for such a trophy.

Madame Defarge: You might consider getting contact lenses, Madame D. I believe they are widely used by those who play aggressive sports.

Robyn: Hugh seems to have gone off prostitutes, Robyn. Starstruck college girls are more his cup of tea these days.
Whatever he says or does it can NOT be worse than your husband paying for fellatio from a literal street walker.

I mean, did Hugh not know Heidi Fleiss or what?
There is, perhaps, a business opportunity here, if one could be arsed. One might develop an 'app' that would send an automatic reply each time Mr Warne sent a text message, telling him desist his clumsy stalking.

I, too, appreciated and enjoyed your description of cricket. It is exactly how i have played the game these past thirty years, though i had hithertoo not put it in the right words.
i can't fricken stand Hugh Grant.

Except for when he's in Love Actually, cus that is my favorite movie and I excuse the fact that he's in it.

I'm so over Elizabeth Hurley.
She's a hot mess.

BTW, who are you?
Scott: It was a spur of the moment thing with Divine Brown. Hugh saw her pouting at him and thought "Why not?".

Perineum: I wonder what his hit rate is for the all the text messages he's sent. He must have a fairly good batting average to persist with them.

Ms Bluntdelivery: Are you saying you once had a thing for Ms Hurley? I don't blame you, her appeal is very androgynous. I think Hugh Grant liked her masculine side.
Actually, it should have been veni veni veni.

Veni again?
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