July 2008 Archives

THE shame of it!

In the children's section of my local library, the book of the week isn't one of the glorious fantasy compositions of JK Rowling or CS Lewis.

Instead, pride of place goes to the autobiography of blimp-boobed, blank-eyed bimbo, Jordan - aka, Katie (the) Price (is right).


Is this really what impressionable youths should be digesting?

What next?

Perhaps the library has top-secret plans for Jordan to re-write those well-loved kiddy classics from yesteryear.

Meaning the young 'uns can look forward to Little Red Ride Her Good.

Or maybe even Goldilocks And The Three Bare... naked Chippendales.

Perhaps I'm being too harsh.

After all, in these times of economic instability and financial hardship, Jordan is a wonderful example of British industry at its most robust... with the emphasis on bust.

She's more productive than British Leyland in its heyday, and better for your teeth than the entire output of Cadbury's... unless you happen to dig your chompers into her boobs. (Never forget, silicon is more unforgiving on tooth enamel than a bar of Fruit and Nut.)


Maybe Jordan really can teach those youngsters a thing or two.

In fact, she may just be a complete high school curriculum in a greasy thong and fake eye-lashes.

Don't agree?

Well, here's the proof.

1) Jordan as a foreign language.

Studying Jordan Speak is like learning French or German, as it has its own distinctive vocabulary and grammar.

For example:

Eerz wazzizface = Allow me to introduce you to my husband, the talented entertainer and raconteur, Mr Peter Andre.

Farque the lotto yooz! I ain't doon at, matey! Not-never! = Although I'm sympathetic to your request, I'm afraid if you really want me to take off all of my clothes, you're going to have to negotiate a price that's much more compatible with the demands of my financial adviser.

2) Jordan as arithmetic.

Our gal is an expert when it comes to counting.

And she doesn't need a calculator.

Not when she's got all those fingers and toes to play with.

Even big numbers don't present a problem.

She knows that one plus one equals millions and millions and millions.

When you're talking about the number of mammary glands, at any rate.

3) Jordan as PE lesson.

Oh come on, this one's soooo obvious.

As Peter Andre must have discovered by now, his lady wife is as sturdy as a gym vault, with more boing than a trampoline.

In fact, I'd say she put the tramp into trampoline, but that's just not true.

Besides, her lawyers may be reading this.

4) Jordan as English lit.


She can certainly be compared to at least one of the literary classics.

Similar to the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, she is two females trapped inside one body.

Katie Price is meant to be the sweet one, while JUGgernaut Jordan is the dark manifestation of all those hidden desires.

Or, in layman's terms, Katie wears clothes - Jordan doesn't.

5) Jordan as history lesson.

Like Edward Gibbon's mighty tome, The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire, Jordan has plenty of history packed between her covers.

Most of it's called Dwight Yorke.


6) Jordan as Scientific Principle

Isaac Newton argued that gravity makes all solid objects fall towards earth.

Professor Jordan disagrees.

Her breasts are never going to dip one single inch - not while there are plastic surgeons on the planet, willing to pump dollops of Polyfilla into those sprightly puppies.

So there you have it. Jordan can provide a few lessons for us all, not just the kiddies.

Although somehow I don't think she'll end-up working as a teacher at your local comprehensive.

Unless they start making those corduroy jackets entirely out of leather.

Not just the ratty, old elbow patches.

Big Brother is watching me

By Lorne Jackson on Jul 18, 08 11:23 AM


I call him B BOB.

Which stands for the Big Brother Of Books.

Just like the sinister presence in George Orwell's classic novel, 1984 - which celebrates its fiftieth anniversary this year - he's all seeing, all knowing, and all magazine grabbing.

Let me explain.

LAST week I exclusively revealed that this blog was going to involve a lot of griping about things I hate.

However, I didn't go into detail about what those things were.

An omission that shall now be rectified.

When it comes to people, there's really only two types I can't stand.

People I've met... and people I haven't.

Of course there are a few honourable exceptions to this rule.


Nelson Mandela, for instance.

Him, I only despise.


Lorne Jackson

Lorne Jackson - Sunday Mercury columnist

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