Thursday, February 24, 2005

The Evening Standard, Abbey National, my sister's boyfriend and Jessica Biel.

The Evening Standard is ass.

And not in a good sense (think Vida Guerra, Gwen Stefani, Cindy Crawford and so on).

This rag is London's main (read: only) evening paper, first out in the late morning and later editions towards the night. It costs 40p every weekday. And every day I fling myself through its pages with a mounting sense of rage and frustration at its mixture of snootiness, utterly crap journalists, insanely trivial stories and more prize tits than a year's worth of Score magazine. If it weren't for Victor Lewis-Smith's TV reviews, I wouldn't even bother buying it.

My sister's boyfriend is ass.

Referred to here as Mr. F (not to be confused with Mr. Fantastic), he is a good cook but that in no way atones for his being a smug fucker who I always want to kill on seeing him; it doesn't help that you can always tell when he's talking crap... his lips move. (The old ones, etc.) How much does he annoy me? I got a letter from Abbey National telling me they're charging me a hundred pounds in overdrawing fees, and that irritates me a lot less.

Jessica Biel is ass.

But in a very, very good way... I saw the trailer for Stealth yesterday, and I'm so there when it comes out over here in August. I thought you deserved something happy to go out on.

2 comments:

The Archivist said...

You'll fork out 40p for TV reviews, when the majority of the paper is composed of 'snootiness, utterly crap journalists, insanely trivial stories and more prize tits than a year's worth of Score magazine'.

Are the reviews really worth 40p?

Cindylover1969 said...

On the upside, it is only 40 pence.

But I guess it's just force of habit. :(