What’s that? Rooney… is a man?

What turns a public schoolgirl into a £1,200 per night call girl? Erm, £1,200.

Through the very latest telescopic photo lens, the News Of The World managed to capture the precise moment Rooney's hooker earned her £1,200

Before I begin, not for one second do I condone any man cheating on his wife. If the wife is pregnant with your child, even worse. Wayne Rooney is a dog. But there has been barely anything made of the prostitute who propositioned him, then told him it wouldn’t be free. The streets of Manchester and Kensington are littered with girls whose only ambition is to be bent over by a footballer. How did that happen? ‘Premiership Jen’, Rooney’s hooker, claims to have slept with at least 3 other Premier League players (incidentally, kudos on the usually classy [sic] Daily Mail for getting so much softcore porn into one article). So whilst all the news coverage has been focused on Rooney, his state of mind, and the chances of his marriage surviving, the only coverage of the other party has been voyeuristic. It’s a bit like the Deepwater Horizon disaster – very quickly coverage focused on the environmental impact, and the ensuing political soap opera, and the fact that 11 men died was quickly erased from the story. Just remember, next time you’re whining about how much money Wayne gets paid for nothing, that it takes two to tango.

And if you are gonna bang on about it, this is the way to do it:

Bollocks to Roger

As some of you may know, Roger Federer is categorically cunty. This is the real best tennis shot ever:

Inyourendo

Sexual innuendo is brilliant. Boring people would call me childish for laughing. Behave, I say. There is a very funny article on the Guardian website about this today – the comments section is bowstaff:

The definition of a lady is ‘a woman who only swears when it slips out’.

This led me onto sexual innuendo on Uncyclopedia:

Sexual innuendo is a hard topic to stay on top of.

Very British swearing

James Hunt, former F1 World Champion, commentaing on the 1989 Monaco Grand Prix:

In other news

-Happy 50th, Hugh Grant.

I can’t feel my face (thanks, Dave).

Incredible finish, especially in the hat.

Last but not least, ID cards – who cares? Sleep time.

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