Thursday, September 03, 2009
Ally Ross: Wit like this can give you haemorrhoids
Simon Cowell and Ally. A satsuma slice would have heightened the experience
I'm awwwwwwwfully sorry to hear that the Sun's TV critic Ally Ross is off sick with haemorrhoids - or so Private Eye claims. I hadn't noticed his absence myself. There he is, kicking each column off with a showtime - like a diary entry. Well, deadlines, darling, deadlines. Call it his signature. Whatever gets the words to flow. We can at least comfort ourselves that his condition is not the result of arse sex, for as his columns constantly and tacitly remind us, he is a hard-wired cock-cunter to be sure.
Here are a few of these reminders (not to be confused with any latent homophobia, natch) which I am told are supposed to be ironic:
Of John Barrowman
"There are side-splitters from the moment Barrowman — 'The man who can do everything', except impersonate a heterosexual — opens the show singing I’m So Excited by The Pointer Sisters."
"The name of Graham Norton's producer, Alex Bender. Marvellous."
He is disturbed that "The thoroughly heterosexual Todd Grimshaw is set to start wrestling with his sexuality and blah blah blah..." He declares that when Corrie "jabbed us in the chest with issues at every turn" viewing figures plummeted. "So put your leaflets away. Give us stories. Give us laughs". And none of this depressing camp crap.
Ricky Martin's girlfriend is fed up of being asked if he's gay.
''Why? Is he a bender or something?''
A Ricky Martin look-a-like on TV's Stars In Your Eyes:
''Ricky Martin gave an awful poof-homance''.
Time for a nice musical interlude
"TV is way too camp, i.e. gay and rubbish, for its own good". Worth a read.
Elton John's Oscars bash for his Aids Foundation
"An event described offensively and incorrectly, by me, as '400 Poofs And A Piano'. (It's probably more like 500.)." That I will concede sounds ironic.
Of TV contestants
"They're the usual camp show-offs, mainly. Proof that anyone who wants to be on TV should be banned from TV. "
"Christopher Biggins and his civil partner sharing a small cubicle on the same show (just like old times)." [In the gents, geddit?]
And on it goes. Witty-lite jibes concentrated into tabloid Wildeisms by the Sun's flattering micro-pars. Still, here's Madame Arcati's suggested cure for haemorrhoids. Click here.