Sweary’s Jaw: Lines of Charlie

His most recent meltdown may have left some of you in a heightened state of befuddlement, but those of us who like to keep abreast of celebrity carry-on were never in any doubt that Charlie Sheen is more mental than nerd-rage. The horrendously public split from Denise Richards, the charges of domestic violence, the loud n’ proud addictions to gambling and pornography, the airplane full of hookers: Charlie Sheen is nothing if not entertaining, so long as you’ve not been saddled with a conscience and have plenty viewing capacity from behind your sofa. A Hollywood brat allergic to taking anything seriously, it was never likely Mr. Carlos Estevez would bow out of the limelight gracefully, as Husband, or Father; even with a Delorean and a helpful professor at your disposal, I wouldn’t recommend popping to the 80s to bet on 2011′s Charlie Sheen moving in with two porn stars and … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously willing those Glee girls to put their damn pants back on, so you don’t have to. So here’s the deal-ee-oh. I know I’ve been rather quiet recently re: the scandalous faffery of the more recognisable of our world citizens, but it’s only because I’ve really stopped giving a knob. I have other things to be doing, like tweeting about how shit everything is, or growing my fingernails. I’m only writing this because I worry that someone out there might actually care if I don’t. How could I tell if Lindsay Lohan wasn’t kept teetering on the brink instead of plummeting over it by googling Oirish websites for mentions of herself? HOW WOULD I KNOW? (Hello Lindsay, by the way! I’m sure that the nasty rumour about recently-single Christina Aguilera hooking up with Sam Ronson is complete hokey. In the words of the great Cher - from Clueless, that is, … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously wringing hands for Lenny and Dawn, so you don’t have to. We’ve got a lot to get through this week, so I’m going to get you lot settled with something cunningly brainless, to set the tone, to lighten the mood. You know, give you lot the bloggy equivalent of a sensual neckrub. Yeah? Coz if this doesn’t get you going, I don’t know what will. Now, what’s all that unidentified white powder coming out of Lindsay Lohan’s shoes? Is it (a) Dhrugs, dhrugs, terrible dhrugs? (b) The residue of her SOUL? (c) Probably talcum powder, but really, how is that an advisable clog insert when you’ve got a reputation for being the most fragile party casualty in town? Honestly, Lindsay! Wardrobe! Yes, prepare to overdose on stupidity, because Sweary’s Jaw is chock-to-da-block with it this week, and not just in my clunky prose.

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously knowing who Tila Tequila is, so you don’t have to. There’s something about the middle of February that makes one think of lurve, is there not? Cupid’s arrows, gay Paris, two-person snuggies, last rolos, finding your tongue halfway down an Arts student’s throat in a traffic light disco… Valentine’s Day, you say? That would be it, alright. Well, you’re not alone. There is a yawning chasm between us Normals and our fame-swollen heroes at the best of times, but you can hardly call drunk-texting and crying in a karaoke booth to Mariah Carey’s “Without You” the best of times, now can you? You are never closer in your orbit of the stars than you are on Valentine’s Day, because, as I’m about to show you, even celebrities can’t resist making twats of themselves for l’amour. And if you define l’amour as “that funny feeling you get in yer kecks … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

If you weren’t already painfully aware that we’ve hit awards season, here’s a visual clue. I’m absolutely bored feckless by the whole shebang already (although I’m tickled to hear that Sandra “Everbeige” Bullock is in the running for an Oscar and a Razzie in the same weekend, though tragically not for the same movie.) So here’s some non-razzlydazzly news as an antidote to all the gushing and ego-nuzzling. Without further adon’t, then. One time, Mel Gibson was the kind of fella you’d find pawing at the Oscars lock-up, but that was before he was taken unawares by the worst case of foot-in-mouth syndrome this side of George Lee. Mr. Gibson, and his trusty sidekick, Mr. Ego, have been in the news recently for … well, calling a reporter a rude, rude word while being interviewed for … well, the news. When asked if he feared his famous anti-Semetic outburst would … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously sending cakes with files in ‘em to Alex Reid, so you don’t have to. Right, let’s get all that’s obligatory out of the way. There’s these yokes called The Grammys, right? Basically, they’re awards given to musicians who already have lots of awards/reward, and they tend to be given in tandem. They were doled out over the weekend to those who’d made a big, safe splash in the world of music this year; Beyonce got ten, Taylor Swift got four, The Black Eyed Peas (who’d have a lot more than black eyes if I ever got as far as them) got three … you see how it goes. They’re awards awarded by, I imagine, elderly dears with very short attention spans. “Well, now, we can’t give that nice girl Beyonkers the Best Rap award, so let’s give it to her husband, sure aren’t they a lovely pair. And give … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously lighting candles for Brad and Angelina, so you don’t have to. All of your favourite celebrities (and most of your least favourite too) have been very busy this week with various fundraisers for Haiti, including MTV’s Hope For Haiti telethon, which raised a whopping $58 million. And there’s no way on Earth I’d find something snotty, snooty or snippy to say about that. Using your celebrity for good is nothing new, and of course we have to keep in mind that any star wishing to maintain a positive image could not turn down a request to give time to such a worthy cause … but of course, we have to then remember the people who got off their arses to put forth that unignorable request in the first place. So kudos to the likes of George Clooney, Angelina Jolie, and, of course, Wyclef Jean. And fair play, too, to … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously coaxing Chloe Sevigny to get over herself, so you don’t have to. When we use the term “social life”, it’s natural for others to assume that we’re talking about the lighter, more pleasant, more fun side to existence … which is daft, of course, because the difficulty with life is that we are not here alone. We must interact to thrive. Our quality of life depends on how we deal with others - family, etiquette, politics. To lead, or to follow. To conform, to rebel. Life, on one level or another, is social. It’s a truth so obvious it’s almost stupid. Like calling Bob Geldof pompous. Most of us don’t have to worry excessively about how we interact with those in our sphere of influence; we see our loved ones often, our colleagues even more often than that, and it’s rare you’ll put a foot wrong without being well … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw: 2010 Wishlist

Surreptitiously sniggering at Sharon Stone’s “I’m all natural, me” claims, so you don’t have to. It might have been a good New Year’s Resolution to stop caring about what celebrities get up to. If you could call it caring. Let’s face it, I haven’t exactly been gracious in my treatment of those richer and more physically enhanced than I am. I’ve been pretty snide. A bit vulgar. Not so inclined to treat celebrities as real people, even if they are a bit helter skelter, a bit removed from the cop on that a good, daily dose of drudgery would bring. You’d wonder why I bother, really. Am I so hollow that I can only elevate myself through dragging down safe targets, people unaware of my existence, and miles and miles away? Or are celebrities really that entertainingly daft? You know, I think it’s the latter.

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously on Tiger’s side, so you don’t have to be… … although it is hard to be on Tiger’s side when you’ve got a gossip post to write and he and that all-encompassing libido of his have a monopoly on everyone’s attention. Jennifer Aniston could set fire to her personal chef in the middle of Times Square and no one would notice, such is the magnitude of Tiger’s mauling. I’d feel terribly sorry for him, if it wasn’t for the fact that a million hotties are pawing at his back pocket. I mean, that’s not bad going, for a bloke who was christened Tiger, has teeth the size of Peter Schmeichel’s hands, and wears pastel polo shirts all day; the hayters just jealous, y’all! Anyway, because I’m intrepid like that, I managed to put together some non-Tiger-related gossip for you hungry, hungry hippos. Bully for all of us, I’m sure … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptituously calling Leona Lewis … well, kinda crap … so you don’t have to. Dark days are upon us. Now, I know I started last week’s Jaw with a very similar statement, but dark days do tend to drag on, so the sentiment remains. I am also of the very obvious opinion that silly celebrity news - pointless crap for the sake of it - can be a lifesaver when all around you is doom, gloom and bellyaches. But the emphasis must be on silly, which is why we are more likely to cheer on the consciously awful shenanigans of X Factor’s John and Edward, than the unconsciously awful uber-sincerity of its rising star Danyl Johnson, for example. This focus on the daft antics of esteemed celebrities may consequently come across a bit mean-spirited; why focus on lapses in a celebrity’s judgement, when we could focus on achievements, awards, great … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously stalking Beyonce through Brown Thomas’ knickers department, so you don’t have to. With the country under water, the public sector workers out sulking in the rain, and Thierry Henry not yet imprisoned, us lot could do with a larf. But what to do? Comedy Clubs serve expensive drinks, and Twink-baiting is far too dangerous. If only there was a ready source of shits and giggles, gratis, of course, as free and easy as Lindsay Lo… wait! That’s it! Celebrities! Collectively, they provide enough sniggers to keep Mr. T. going for a calendar year, they do. Enough with the faffing about! Let this week’s circus begin! While “normal” teens (ewwww) are frothing at their yellow, crooked gnashers over the Twilight Saga now that New Moon has slithered into the cinema, one could deduce that it’s absolutely refreshing that Ms. Miley Cyrus, a.k.a. Hannah Montana, a.k.a. Billie Ray JR, a.k.a. the … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously voting for John and Edward, so you don’t have to. There. With the X-Factor reference out of the way, we can get down to the high-and-mighties. Oh yes. I’ve been feeling a little inconsequential this week, a little frothy, like the Matey residue in the empty bath of life. Yes, that bad. So this week you lot are getting Highbrow Jaw. I am aware that Jaw naturally belongs on the southern end of the face, but sometimes you’ve got to do a little reconstruction for the good of your career. Isn’t that right, Ashlee Simpson? Not that I know who Ashlee Simpson is, being highbrow and all. Moving on. “To where?” you might scoff. “To where could you possibly move us, if not to the most-certainly-not-highbrow world of celebrities making absolute doughnuts of themselves? That is your brief, is it not?” And yes, it is. But if you think … There’s more

Sweary’s Jaw

Surreptitiously wearing Lindsay Lohan’s new fashion line, so you don’t have to. You would imagine that any gossip column worth the paper t’was spat on would be focusing on The X-Factor this week, what with Simon, Dannii, Louis and Cheryl having finally chosen the twelve horsemen for the apocalypse of Saturday night television. Not the case here, I’m pleased to admit! There’s plenty about this year’s contestants one could focus on and pick at - that one of the male finalists looks like the money shot from a 1970s porno, that another has teeth you could sail to Easter Island on … that there’s a band of lapdancers, for Jaysus’ sake! - but I prefer to focus more on people who are already celebrities. People whose dedication to the arts, whose poise and grace in a world of creative flux are an inspiration to us all, and … What? Really?! … There’s more

Jade Goody dies.

Jade Goody died in her sleep today following a public battle with cancer, her publicist Max Clifford said. The reality TV star died with her mother Jackiey Budden at her side at her home in Upshire, Essex, at 3.14am on Mother’s Day. Referring to how her public battle with cancer has raised awareness of the disease, Mr Clifford said: “I think she’s going to be remembered as a young girl who has, and who will, save an awful lot of lives. “She was a very, very brave girl. “And she faced her death in the way she faced her whole life – full on, with a lot of courage.” Mr Clifford said he hoped Goody’s family would now be left in peace to grieve. “I think she’s going to be remembered as a young girl who has, and who will, save an awful lot of lives” says Clifford, but will … There’s more