Let’s face it - the big man upstairs is pretty fucking lazy. Or is he just a fan of recycling because it seems to me that he only has a limited number of moulds to make people out of. People are all starting to look the same. Sure, sometimes he adds a big nose here and an unfortunate chin there (Sorry Reese Witherspoon) but essentially, there’s a limit to how many ways a person can look. And although we, the mighty human race, have become adept at tinkering with God’s work, you can’t escape the fact that although you might think you look great and different from everybody else, there’s probably an inordinate number of people who look just like you and generally, look a hell of a lot better.
Recently I have been unable to deny the fact that one of the music world’s freshest faces may not be that fresh after all, as it looks like God went and dipped into his trusty old bag of tricks to create yet another person. He took one part Nancy Sinatra, that boot loving, sugar town dwelling, product of nepotism and ultimate funny dame (thanks Kathy Griffin) and meshed her with that 1980s denim aficionado who spent her youth toying with electricity while crafting a nose she did like, Deborah "Don’t call me Debbie” Gibson. So what does one get when you add these two to the celebrity mixing bowl? You get Katie White from The Ting Tings (You probably already realised that from the heading). Although I do wish God would branch out a little bit and try and come up with some new styles of people, I must admit I do like his work. Katie is quite the lovely lass and The Ting Ting’s album is very nice indeed. Nancy and Deborah both had their moments in their day but Ms. White shows a little more promise in the music department. Or then again, she may disappear as quickly as she came.
In any case, I’m looking forward to the time when these three women meet and compare faces. Of course, it won’t be your usual meeting of hi, how are you, love your nose. Oh no! I picture the three coming together in a hip underground bar where The Ting Ting’s will be playing to a crowd of 40 amazing people. Nancy will be outside sucking down on a fag as she remembers the days when her boots were sexy and dangerous and didn’t have to have corn pads in them while Deborah will be inside boring people with information about her latest batch of lame ‘mature’ songs that nobody will ever want to hear. They’ll meet as Katie leaves the club. Nancy will notice the other two first and as she tries to suppress her smokers cough and control the mucus dripping from her mouth, Deborah, coming out after Katie, will accost both of them with stories about a batch of lame ‘mature’ songs she has written in the last three minutes that she thinks they should collaborate on. Katie, unsure of who these two women are makes her to a waiting cab and watches as Nancy looks through her purse in hopes of finding a tissue to clean up the mess she has made while Deborah rings up her Mom to tell her that she just met the legendary Frank Sinatra (Debbie is farsighted) and some chick that may or not be someone she knows.
Recently I have been unable to deny the fact that one of the music world’s freshest faces may not be that fresh after all, as it looks like God went and dipped into his trusty old bag of tricks to create yet another person. He took one part Nancy Sinatra, that boot loving, sugar town dwelling, product of nepotism and ultimate funny dame (thanks Kathy Griffin) and meshed her with that 1980s denim aficionado who spent her youth toying with electricity while crafting a nose she did like, Deborah "Don’t call me Debbie” Gibson. So what does one get when you add these two to the celebrity mixing bowl? You get Katie White from The Ting Tings (You probably already realised that from the heading). Although I do wish God would branch out a little bit and try and come up with some new styles of people, I must admit I do like his work. Katie is quite the lovely lass and The Ting Ting’s album is very nice indeed. Nancy and Deborah both had their moments in their day but Ms. White shows a little more promise in the music department. Or then again, she may disappear as quickly as she came.
In any case, I’m looking forward to the time when these three women meet and compare faces. Of course, it won’t be your usual meeting of hi, how are you, love your nose. Oh no! I picture the three coming together in a hip underground bar where The Ting Ting’s will be playing to a crowd of 40 amazing people. Nancy will be outside sucking down on a fag as she remembers the days when her boots were sexy and dangerous and didn’t have to have corn pads in them while Deborah will be inside boring people with information about her latest batch of lame ‘mature’ songs that nobody will ever want to hear. They’ll meet as Katie leaves the club. Nancy will notice the other two first and as she tries to suppress her smokers cough and control the mucus dripping from her mouth, Deborah, coming out after Katie, will accost both of them with stories about a batch of lame ‘mature’ songs she has written in the last three minutes that she thinks they should collaborate on. Katie, unsure of who these two women are makes her to a waiting cab and watches as Nancy looks through her purse in hopes of finding a tissue to clean up the mess she has made while Deborah rings up her Mom to tell her that she just met the legendary Frank Sinatra (Debbie is farsighted) and some chick that may or not be someone she knows.
She then goes on to tell her that she will soon be working with them on an amazing ‘mature’ song Debbie has written about feelings that she hopes will return her to the top of the charts. At this point, Mother Gibson drifts of into a wonderland where, despite the uphill battle she would face, she dreams of being the mother of Amy Winehouse. At least when it comes to Amy, the end is near. With Deborah, who knows how long her shit will last.
Oh the world of celebrity: Just when you thought you were being of the moment by loving a hip new band you find out the lead singer is an amalgamation of an old 60’s singer whose arse is now her face and an former teen idol whose face you wouldn’t arse (I don’t know what that means either).
Oh the world of celebrity: Just when you thought you were being of the moment by loving a hip new band you find out the lead singer is an amalgamation of an old 60’s singer whose arse is now her face and an former teen idol whose face you wouldn’t arse (I don’t know what that means either).
Watch below as Nancy (or is it Katie) makes one of the greatest stage exits man-kind has ever witnessed.
1 comment:
now that was fucking brilliant
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