I really hate myself for giving blog room to this batch of mouldy crumpets but I think it's time the girls realised the truth of that old saying "You can't go back". You might botox the face, diet the body until it cries 'uncle' or bolster up the boobs with a shot of silicone but you can't de-age boney knees or scraggy feet.
Posh has the right idea, cover it all up except for a discreetly peeping tit but once again she didn't go far enough and left the paper bag off her head.
Apparently this Hagfest is coming to Australia to sing. Bwahahaahaha!
17 comments:
"...it's time the girls realised the truth of that old saying "You can't go back"."
That's a pity. I've lifted the stone up for them, ready.
Wonder, if after all this time, they'll be able to recapture the mediocrity for which they were so rightly famous.
Bring on the wooden stakes!
(Yes, shocking knees and feet ... we'll settle for your ankles any day, liebchen.)
They sing?
Seriously, my daughter has more talented Bratz dolls lying at the bottom of the toy box with their arms, legs and heads pulled off.
Hang on, from memory I think there is a Posh doll there too. Someone gave it to her when she was a wee little one but she didn't like it, so we let the dog use it as a chew toy. Funny, it still looked better than its inspiration...
Oh, miaow...
Agree. Cover up what is not attractive. Why were neckties and cravats invented? And scarves. Sadly I can't see when I cover my worst feature.
Looks like we'll have to tranquilise every dog in Australia the minute that lot open their gobs to sing...
Good old Shirley Bassey, she sings rings around this lot and in gumboots.
Oh, Lord Sedgwick, my heart's all aflutter, my delicate ankles. I love a man who sets his sights high.
Bella, If I've ever heard one of their songs I can't remember it. A Posh doll? According to rumours an anatomically correct Beckham doll would be more than a handful.
Andrew, you make it too easy. I just couldn't make a remark about a one eyed trouser snake, it would be very bad of me.
Jayne, to sing or lipsynch? That is the question!
Golly me but what a gang of old hoofers, and still chasing romance, but with an eye on the economy nowadays. They've discovered politics, feminism, and who could blame them, romance is a plain old root in the end. Tossle brings us all undone.
Hello my little sweetiepie cream sponges and yes you know it's me, poor RH, booted from one end of bloggle to the other, oh my goodness. And guess what, my pal Mr Mad Geoff W at my instigation has decided to get himself an ASIAN BRIDE! That's right. But trouble is he's not allowed to leave the country or even the state and so I'll be going to Thailand soon to tee it all up for him and I hope he trusts my judgement. Meanwhile I've downloaded some very alluring contenders (WOOF WOOF AWOOOOOOO!!!) and stuck them up on his kitchen wall but the lady social workers said that's offensive to us and made him take them down and then I went around there and made him put them up again and he's terrified of them and he's terrified of me so you can imagine his distress: TOTAL COLLAPSE! ha ha. Well I said to him today don't worry about it there's a coffin to fit them and there's a coffin to fit us. And made him laugh, poor bugger.
Why am I up so late. I've no idea. When I worked I looked forward to weekends. Now they're a nuisance, too many bums on the streets; office stooges, Wooh!- let's do the shopping!- and park our fat arses along Brunswick Street. "I'll have a focaccia thanks Naidoo, and is that pleb over there licensed to eat carrot cake?"
ha ha ha!
ROBBERT!!!
SHUT UP!
ROBBERT!!!
Bruschetta turns women into feminists.
I tend to disagree with that one Rh, Bruschetta turns women, well me, into a mess. It never quite reaches my mouth without gravity taking over.
Did you have to mention carrot cake?
Did you have to mention Focaccia? (black olives, parmesan and tomato)
Looks like a jumbo sized serving of ginger there, I hope the good folks at Buderim Ginger don't lose any market share when she lands.
nojero (according to word verification), I will interpret it as meaning "I do not subscribe".
They look like they have been chewed up sucked dry and spat out...
I've never been that skinny, had pretty good knees once they'd be really scary up close first thing in the morning...
close to becomminhg hoochie mummas
an no not jealous... can't handle being round people all that much... their life would drive me crazier
Therese, Posh has really spotty skin and uses make-up by the gallon, does that make you feel better?
Caroline, Spoon? I like my bruschetta shovel size.
Phil, you do not subscribe to skinny singing tarts but prefer more voluptuous females? Be very careful how you answer that.
I didn't. You didn't see me do it. You can't prove a thing. (c)
I have long wondered why it was I became a feminist. It was all that bruschetta I slopped down my front in Brunswick Street all those years ago. Please advise where I get my carrot cake licence. I'm concerned that I may be breaking the law.
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