Shut up Alesha

SHUT UP ALESHA

Alesha Dixon has been chatting shit. I didn’t have much time for her anyway, but apparently she is not content with being a karaoke singer and all-round media ‘personality’. Now, she wants to be an investigative journalist. Piss off.

Dixon’s article on absent fathers would shame a hamster with a typewriter. She says that she is a ‘pretty secure and confident woman – you’d have to be, to do what I do’. What do you do? Sing other people’s songs? Hold up a table tennis bat with a number on? She must have a lot of confidence, because that what she is – a con. She was a shit rapper in Mis-teeq, she’s a shit singer and she’s a shit for bumping Arlene off Strictly. She should shit off.

‘These days I can’t help thinking about those kids’ she says. Arsewank. These all she can’t stop doing is getting her self-righteous mug absolutely everywhere, and counting the resultant cash.

‘I also know I can’t control society at large – world domination has never been my thing’. Thank God for that. I was worried about Alesha unleashing the Fourth Reich with Len Goodman as head of her secret police.

Up to that point, the article was just poorly written dross. But now, Alesha starts going on about the worrying possibility of accidentally meeting and shagging a half sibling. ‘Likewise, if you don’t know who your father is, you won’t know if he’s gone on to have other kids so you could end up bumping into a half-brother or sister down the local pub or club without knowing it. One thing could lead to another and, well, it’s a pretty scary thought.’ It’s a pretty scary thought if you also worry about being eaten alive by squirrels, of drowning under a tsunami of plant pots. To sane people, it’s not scary at all.

To illustrate her point, Alesha quotes some lobotomy candidate called Amy who ‘said it literally crossed her mind every day. She’d walk down a street and wonder if she had just passed her father or her half-brother or sister. If she met a guy on a night out, one of the first things she’d ask him would be “What’s your surname?”, just in case it matched that of her biological father’. Of course, par for the course for Alesha is not finding out the guy’s name until after he’s spaffed inside her.

Alesha rounds off by saying ‘children growing up without knowing who their father is has become an increasing phenomenon which won’t go away just like that’. I wish she’d go away just like that, that being with tears rolling down her face after finding out that she is carrying twins fathered by Gary Glitter. Still want daddy to know the kids, dickhead?

(By the way, I totally agree with the premise of the article. I disagree with it’s delivery via an unqualified rent-a-gob).

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