Wednesday, April 08, 2015
Hurley's half-century
Elizabeth Hurley will be 50 this summer. If you ask me, she doesn’t look a day over 46. Those expecting a glorious jamboree to celebrate this historic event will be disappointed. Miss Hurley has revealed her plans for the occasion to a gossip magazine:
“I go to bed at 8.30 each night so it'll probably be something small and private with my family and maybe I'll do something wild and wonderful later.”
Could all those early nights be the secret of her regal beauty? I doubt it. The history books tell us that the Queen Nefertiti retired at sunset and aged like the Wicked Witch of the West. We jungle apes believe it’s the position you sleep in that affects your appearance. The healthiest posture for a gorilla is swinging in a hammock with the toes tucked below the chin. Upright humans, by contrast, should lie flat on their backs on an extra-hard mattress. The worst position for both humans and apes is reclining face down with one’s bum sticking in the air. That’s just asking for trouble.
I don’t know what position Elizabeth sleeps in, but I’d venture a guess that her pores get plenty of breathing space. Her skin is truly a marvel, but we shouldn’t let it distract us from her other qualities. I’m thinking particularly of her butt cheeks, which are due to appear on British TV. A preview of this pert rump can be found in an on-line newspaper, which also showcases her acting skills. Comment would be superfluous.
It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that Miss Hurley said she might do something “wild and wonderful” after her birthday. And if it has escaped your notice, I am now reminding you of the fact. I’m not going to waste your time and mine by trying to guess what she has in mind. There are too many wild and wonderful recreations in the solar system to guess what tickles Elizabeth’s fancy. I could probably whittle it down to 17 or 19 plausible alternatives, but what would be the point? We would still be groping in the dark.
Instead of indulging in such idle speculation, let me suggest an activity she could add to her shortlist. What I have in mind is a soirée with Tove Lo, the Swedish singer who recently described herself as a hobby lesbian. Miss Lo apparently has a boyfriend who does not object to her character-building pastime:
“We’re so good together and he’s very understanding,” she explained. “He gets it, so that makes it a lot easier.”
One wonders how he can live with the anguish. Be that as it may, a woman who likes to dabble in Sapphic diversions is most unlikely to refuse a date with Elizabeth Hurley. And if she’s not all talk, she should come up with something wild and wonderful to cap off the evening. There’s nothing wrong with playing at being a lesbian if you don’t have the gumption to take it up professionally.
Labels: early nights, Elizabeth Hurley, hobby lesbian, lesbian, sleeping positions
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!
Labels: cricket, Elizabeth Hurley, Hugh Grant, Shane Warne
