Some news reports are just too weird to be plausible. When one thinks of John Prescott, the lard-ass ex deputy Labour party leader with an unsurpassed talent for inarticulate gibberish, a number of images spring to mind. One that doesn’t is John hunched over a toilet bowl returning his lunch to the wild. It seems he has come out of the closet (Perhaps Viscount Linley’s?) as a bulimic. Frankly, if this:
is what he looks like after bulimia he seems to be a pretty good example to use for girls with eating disorder: Bulimia will make you look like this.
On a similar warning note if you are member of an old aristocratic English family you may be worried about the dangers of inbreeding. Of course the same even applies if you are a bunch of krauts like the Saxe-Coburg & Gotha’s Windsors. If your family’s gene pool is a little shallow then making it deeper by filling it with 20,000 gallons of sewage from retardess Princess Di’s family might not be the smartest move. Proof you say? Oh fuck dude, pick up a paper. Or look at the recent news of pretty boy Princess William’s empty headed £30k joyride in an RAF Chinook helicopter for no better purpose than to impress some bimbo he wants to fuck up the arse.
Jealous Geeklawyer? Fuck yea.
Only the other day I was saying to John Bolch of Family Lore… that Geeklawyer… he never uses pictures.
And then you break cover with a nightmare….
I have contented myself today with moderation…. in all things…. I have just poured by first Rioja into a rather pleasing flower vase I found in a cupboard earlier today. I find that necking it straight from the bottle was a bit New Labour.
My goodness… there’s that closet again!! And please… if you’re going to use photos on your blog to illustrate… can we not have Prezza up there… he so doesn’t do it for me!!
You aren’t suppose to enjoy it - it’s punishment.
Punishment?? Have I been a naughty girl then?
[…] meanwhile, has decided to run with the Prezza Bulimia story and demonstrates that he too is able to use pictures on his blog - a first for him, I think - at […]
EEEEW - I feel sick……
so did he
I think SW, El Johnno actively chose to make himself sick; I, on the other hand,am caused to be sick just by looking at him!!
Yep not only did he eat all the pies, he then sicked them back up again.
If they were Ginsters they’d then taste better too.
I wouldn’t know, I’ve always been too drunk to remember eating a Ginsters.
Welcome to the marketing Universe for Ginsters.
Does this mean that Ginsters taste the same going in AND out?! Bleagh!!!
No it doesn’t.
They taste better coming out. Kinda. You’d need to be an gourmand to distinguish it though.
GL Are you talking about ‘Ann Gourmand” who writes restaurant reviews?
What is a Ginsters? I have eclectic tastes when it comes to food (even if I do order the same meal every time I go to a restaurant - if I want something else to eat, I go to a different restaurant.)
Charon,
You obviously move in culinary deprived circles. Forget about the olives and Riojca for one moment. Imagine yourself perhaps drunk in a city centre after drinking copious amounts of beer, Now head towards the bright lights of a nice open late convenience store. The type that hire 1 million watt bulbs to be-dazzle the unwary.
Now stumble over to the refrigerated section, moving past the multi-pack cokes that are being sold individually. If you have found the diary products you are in the right area.. scan down…and reach your hand out.. if you pick-up some cheese strings then repeat this process. Eventually you will stumble across one of Ginster’s varied and exciting lines of meat products. It could be a pasty, it could be a pie. It could even be some strange pastry/pie/sausage roll hybrid.
http://www.ginsters.com/index.htm
Ah how familiar this scene must be to so many.
But whether pastry/pie/sausage roll, it is all good at 2 in the morning after kicking out time.
It’s a warming snippet of life in modern Britain. The loss of Ginsters could be an unforeseen consequence of the Health fascists drive against Binge drinking.
Moon 23
I may have to take up bulimia after seeing a Ginster
Good description of a night out though
That really is the most vile graphic ever. Just think… if you found a similar one of Tony Blair, all your old chums might revisit the blog. You must be missing them by now?
Shhh. Don’t say their name or they may materialise
I wonder if Tracey T was sick too?
My eyes! My eyes!
I need to knock myself out now. Maybe steal Charon’s flower vase of Rioja and chug it.
Ms R is fantasising: What if instead of Prezza, there was a picture of GL in the shower, naked and soaped up…And he was there with her…
Ms R, GL isn’t fat and hairy. Though I do have a lovely shot of him in his bathing suit, in the wilds of Lithuania getting ready for a sauna. The sun was setting and there is a certain sheen to his flesh.
It wasn’t very flattering. Mind you thank fuck there were lots of geeks in the picture or I’d have looked bad. I look pretty buff normally.
do you mean this one? [DELETED]
you do sure look purty
Don’t get excited MsR
i imagine she’s fairly safe.
minx - thanks for the helpful ahempedantahem explanation above; sorted me out no end. when i see you in middle remind me to congratulate some flat-vowelled northern fraud on your blog.
SW, I await such congratulations to the boaster of Middle with considerable anticipation!!
You do realise you have my permission to shoot me for stating the blindingly obvious,don’t you?!
With respect to staggering into an all nite convenience in search of Ginsters following a bit of a Sesh,Moon, what ever happened to the good old fashioned Doner Kebab in Naan Bread?! I can recommend an exceptionally FINE establishment on Tottenham Court Road, should you wish to try their wares.
It’s kill or cure……
There is nothing wrong with the Donna Kebab in a Nan, as a vehicle for the consumption of chili this works reasonably well. I wouldn’t want to limit myself to any one drunken feast food though. There is a whole world of Pizza, Biyrani, keema stuffed nan’s, burgers, southern fried chicken etc. Occasionally I’ll even nibble on feta and olives, but I see these more as civilized starters, passing tributes to Bacchus to be had with wine, before the sprit of Pan can be unleashed in a full on animalistic satisfaction of my carnal desires via the consumption of Ginsters et all.
Then of course the king of all foods, duel headed god of pork scratching & pork pie’s (Muslim’s may disagree). Gingsters does deserve a mention in this pantheon, although its place is a little further down mount Olympus (a bit like Eris)
Eloquently put, Moon; I have plainly neglected the many and varied ways in which the hoplessly inebriated may feast upon his/her yearly allocation of MSG, Transfats,Chickens culled in suspcious circumstances, and Food Colourings with a half life of 600 years in order to sate the possibilty of the sort of hangover that would fell an Ox.
Packet of Crisps, anyone?!
What’s worse is when you see the places that serve the food in the cold light of day, with discarded industrial sized vats of Ghee; festering with rats and dried vomit.
I once lived above a street in Brighton that looked down on the main Kebab run, every Friday and Saturday night Kebab wars would break out. With roaming tribal factions staggering about in an orgiastic consumption of meat, chili and fat. Mixed with sexual jealousy.
How at five in the morning I would wake at dawn, and stare out to sea.. now the gulls then owned the road. Their prehistoric reptilian brains fighting over the discarded scraps from the mammals night out. A whole degraded eco-system existing on the back of the wonderful British binge drinking session.
The tired soulless expression of those working behind the sweat of the donor kebab, the promise of brightly colored cans of coke with empty promises. The underlying threat of violence and unspent testosterone mixed with the anticipation of a culinary treat. Then as your mouth sinks into the fat, all the pain disappears and for one moment you can fool yourself into thinking that all is well with the world.