Wednesday, November 22, 2006

The liberation of Britney Spears

Britney Spears seems to have shocked a few people by going ice-skating after filing for divorce. Perhaps they expected her to retire to her apartment with a box of Kleenex and a gaggle of girlfriends to assure her that men are swine. Her lack of remorse suggests that marrying a slimy dullard does at least ease the pain of separation. A mountain of cash is also a great comfort in difficult times, particularly when a pre-nuptial contract will keep it beyond the reach of grasping hands. After gliding gaily around the ice-rink, she ought to have appeared on her balcony to empty vast tubs of popcorn and candy over her excited fans.

How will Britney’s caddish consort react to being served with divorce papers? According to Dr Whipsnade, a gentleman should respond to such an eventuality by taking a pinch of snuff and playing a game of billiards at his club. Regrettably, it appears that Mr Federline has no intention of acquitting himself with such decorum. Dark rumours concerning blackmail and
sex videos are already circulating and we await the rapster’s revenge with a sense of foreboding. Let’s just hope the impending drama doesn’t inspire him to compose more doggerel.

Now a lot of people will blame Ms Spears for getting hitched to this certified gumboil. What they don’t understand is that young mammals are risk-takers who crave new experiences. This wasn’t Britney’s first marriage. A few years ago, she contracted a whimsical alliance with a childhood friend that was annulled after 55 hours. “Honestly, I really wanted to see what it was like to be married,” she explained. Her union with Federline probably arose from her natural curiosity about rap singers, infidelity, stupidity, etc. We gorillas tend to forgive this sort of impetuous behaviour in the young – if you don’t experiment in the springtime of life, you probably never will.

Britney is actually the kind of daughter who would make a gorilla proud. She’s inquisitive, a good dancer and has started reproducing early. Her choice of mate was poor, but we all make mistakes, and there are many good breeding years ahead of her. Now is the time to consider her next career move. I would advise her to move into a mansion in a small mid-western town, taking a film crew and a cast of character actors with her. The actors would play sitcom roles guaranteed to produce chuckles in homes throughout America – a gay butler who nags Britney about her wardrobe and treats her suitors with haughty disdain; a less-cute female friend who tells angst-ridden anecdotes about her love life; a family cook who ends each episode with the perfect, wry one-liner. Topping the ratings with a show like that would be one in the eye for all those nasty critics who’ve written Britney off as a worn-out piece of trailer trash.

A key attraction of the show would be watching Britney raise her kids, teaching them to chop wood, shoot jackrabbits and play the banjo. As the two unfortunates sired by Federline are unlikely to be good television, it’s essential that she bears more children. Prominent men could be invited to co-star in episodes where Britney has a romantic dalliance. I expect I might persuade Danny Craig to put his virility to the test before shooting starts on the next Bond movie. Richard Dawkins is another who ought to be willing to contribute his DNA to this worthy cause. I’m not suggesting they should actually service Britney on set, of course. If they can’t arrange a quiet moment with her in the cutting room, a donation in a plastic cup would be the hygienic alternative.

Good luck Britney!
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You, sir, have a gift. Sheer genius. Never have I met an ape with such a firm grasp on what constitutes quality entertainment.
Close, Tarzan, close. I'm Irish, in Scottish exile for the past few years. I'm still working on getting back to the homeland.
It's a Celtic thing, Tarzan. Kav, Kim and Dr Maroon have an appreciation for language learned in the cradle. In time, even a honky Englishman such as you might join them. We gorillas are honorary Scotch and I'll be getting a kilt this Christmas.
If we're going to turn her into reality TV, GB, let's go the whole hog and lock the Osbournes in with her. Imagine the freakish mewling offspring that would result! Just add Paris Hilton slaughtered, jointed and strung up in the basement like a side of beef, and we have the perfect complement to the holiday season on Fox...
Meaty around the thighs, Tarzan? They look like rather normal beautiful thighs to me. You obviously like women of the social xray or stick insect variety. Or are you a really a woman? Cos that's the sort of comment a woman might make as we all aspire to anorexic Posh and Paris type legs! Red blooded males like their girls to look like girls!!
When men get to Tarzan's age they lose the ability to satisfy a real woman so they start fantasizing about boyish girls.. or boys.
One demands a photo of GB in the kilt for Christmas! You will be most welcome at your nearest British Embassy or High Commission Hogmanay bash, if I were you I'd start practising the Gay Gordons now. I wouldn't recommend going commando in Africa, the mosquitoes get everywhere.
I wasn't planning on wearing it myself, milady. I thought it might look good around the tree at the foot end of my hammock.

Tarzan, me old mate, female gorillas have the most fantastic rear-ends if you're ever in the neighbourhood. Big but really firm, with no wibbly-wobbly bits.
Britney Spears is not a "good dancer." Good dancers everywhere cringe when she starts to move. She has the timing, rhythm, and grace of a blind, one-legged spastic. Years of repetitious practice have given her adequacy, but not talent. Even the crappiest of her back-up dancers dances better than Britney does.

When Wikipedia does an entry on "Sad White Girl Dancers," Britney will be the first mentioned.

I wouldn't leave "a donation in a plastic cup" sitting on any tables, either. Britney's the kind of white trash that would happily swill down whatever's left lying around. Wait, that may just be better than the alternative of her reproducing again.
Superb, GB.
Thanks Aunty. I knew my compliments about your boobs on Daphne's blog would eventually get a reward.

You seem to know a lot about Britney, Ms Sparrow. I prefer to think of her as a naive country girl rather than 'trailer trash'.
Yeah, come off the fence Miss Sparrow.

We always put a kilt and sporran on the tree at Christmas.
“ Swathing the Caber ” is what it’s called.
Over here they're referring to the outgoing Mr. Spears as Fed-Ex. I think it's even been used as a verb: Britney Fed-Exed him.

I think she just got Fed up.

Amazon have just told me that your tome is in the post. I hope you've noticed that I gave it a stonking review, in which I compared you to St Augustine. Of Hippo. No offence.
I bow in humble appreciation of the reviews written by Dr Maroon and your good self, Daphne. Had I known you were actually going to buy it, I would have proof read it properly. I regret there are at least 50 typos.

It's good to hear from you, Sam. She did get fed up so there's no need to apologize.
While my wife and children are Scottish, and it has been the place of my residence for most of my life, I am in fact English. I appreciate the fact that it is seldom held against me in this corner of blogdom
Bloody Hell, Kim, you've led us down the garden path! All that stuff you told us about liking single malts. I forgive you, though.

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