Showing posts with label Katie Price. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Katie Price. Show all posts

Sunday, 14 August 2011

Rained In With Jordan.

The weather outside was horrendous! Mother Nature certainly appeared to have a lot of angst that she wished to rid herself of. The heavy, swollen liquidity of her tears plummeted from the heavens and exploded violently upon the grounds here at Crusty Hall. One stood with a Baccarat tumbler of gin at the Study window watching this heavy curtain of water fall upon the day’s production and random droplets ricocheting from the lush green foliage of gardener’s borders.

From behind, one could hear the slapping sound given off by the flip-flops of one’s faithful houseboy, Chu Me. As he came up one’s rear, one sighed and said, “One fears today is not a day to venture outside, dear.”

One had no appetite to go into the Library; by the time one had searched through the immense catalogue of books on the shelves, it would be quite possible that the day would be over. What could one do with the day? One placed the glistening crystal tumbler on the corner of one’s desk.

“Chu Me, dear, ask one of the household staff to come in, would you?”

Within a few minutes a small, slender girl entered, grabbed the sides of her skirt and curtsied, “Ma’am.”

“Ah! You there … run down to the village would you, and nip into the newsagent and bring one back some interesting reading. One is becoming extremely bored.”

The young creature looked towards the rain battered windows then back to her mistress with sad puppy-esque eyes. “Run along, dear!” One shooed with the back of one’s hand.

Following her to the front door she extended her, almost skeletal, arm towards the umbrella stand. One let out a shriek. “Good Lord! Those umbrellas are antiques, dear! You mustn’t touch them. Honestly, you shall be quite safe. Your uniform is made of synthetic fabrics so you shall be adequately protected against the rain. Now, hurry along.” Chu Me opened the great oak door and we watched her – her hand held out in front of her to shield her face from the rain – run down the saturated drive.

An hour later, one was sashaying from Litten’s – the oak-panelled bar at Crusty Hall – towards the little Dame’s room. Someone lifted one of one’s knockers and whacked it against the door. Opening it, one saw what looked like a drowned rat with the made-up face of Alice Cooper standing in front of one, shivering and clutching a sealed plastic bag. It was the member of household staff that had ran one’s errand. She handed the bag to one, to the almost Salsa-esque sound of her chattering teeth (and one must confess one felt a little shake of one’s tail-feather at the hypnotic rhythm). Then, completely unexpectedly and quite outrageously, the creature made a move to put her foot over the threshold! With the protection of the plastic bag, one propelled her back with a mighty push to her chest. One looked at her sitting there looking up at one, “Not this way, dear!” One said, closing the door, “you’ll play havoc with the parquet flooring.”

Anyhoo … One made one’s way to the Doctor Christian Room and fingered through the selection of magazines in the bag. One of the glossies that the girl had brought back was the recent edition of Closer. Reclining back on one’s chaise, one was immediately drawn – for some inexplicable reason – to the never ending, self-promoted troubles of Katie Jordan Price. It would seem that she is having a few problems with her latest beau, Leandro Penna. (Oh Lord! Here we go again!)

She has apparently told friends she feels “empty and lost”, which is quite coincidental because one has long since thought the same; one has always considered her vacuous … and … as for the point of her … one could never find it.

The report by Amy Swales, tells us she is suffering mood swings and is constantly arguing with poor Leandro about his behaviour in public and what he wears (He’s of Latin extraction, dear, he could be wearing cowbells and a smile and he’d still be stunning …whereas, if you were wearing cowbells you'd be ….well …quite at home, one fancies). The man is a successful model. One is quite sure he is highly knowledgeable about style and fashion. That is worlds apart from Katie Jordan Price who – though she may be referred to as a ‘model’ – would not have absorbed the same expertise from kneeling in a skimpy pair of pants, arching her back and thrusting forth her mammoth hooters.

The relationship situation has been made all the worse – Amy reveals - because our morsel of Argentine tottyness’ English has been improving and he’s now beginning to understand what the unnaturally blonde abomination is saying. Now … one would always urge any person one meets to learn a second language but one is saddened that one never met Leandro prior to his meeting the gutter-press goddess to whisper, “Stick with what you know, dear!” (and after all, who doesn’t adore the Spanish tongue?)

It may well be (as if one even cared) that her moodiness is being caused by the liquid diet she is on. She’s off to Marbella for a holiday and wants to lose some weight. (Holidaymakers, if you’re reading this, you still have time to pack and run ... now!). As an aside, one remmbers when one enjoyed a liquid diet some years ago. When one told the local Slimming World rep that one had lost just over a stone on it in a week, she mocked and demanded, “ What proof do you have?”

“38.5% ,dear, unless Fanny’s got an imported bottle in behind the bar.” One told her, while slapping her across the dish for her rudeness.

Having reflected upon this article, it would seem that the ceaseless stories and updates of this over-exposed eyesore are to continue. There will be a well publicised split, then when some other poor victim is drawn into the Katie Jordan Price Circus, we will be deluged with the stories of her heart-to-hearts with, not only Peter you-can-scrub-y’-washing-on-my-6-pack André, and Alex I’ll-fight-you-but-don’t-ladder-me-tights Reid but now the smoulderingly sexy deliciousness of Leandro too.

Will it ever end?! Alas, one fears not!

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Crusty's Cure For Constipation.

There seems to be an increasing amount of attention being focused on the nation’s bowel movements over recent months.

Wherever one looks, whether it be magazines, newspapers, radio or television advertising etc., we appear to be encouraged to buy such products that ease our motions.

Products such as DulcoEase , which softens one stools (although why there is a connection to soft furnishings, is unclear) and the more yoghurty solutions, such as Activia; Activia, contains polyprostate peptide squitalots, or some such fancy, that biff your digestive tract and improve the flow of a Ford Transit.

Anyhoo …To me this is absolute madness! One wonders how much money is being spent on these ludicrous potions and remedies, when it could be redirected elsewhere. There are far simpler answers already available.

One had never considered this issue in depth until a chance tweeting session with one’s uber-gorgeous twitterchum, Katrina.

It is certainly true, that many people suffer the discomfort of a bloated bowel and back passage blockage. One doesn’t suffer such ailments oneself, as one mainly sticks to a liquid diet. That, and the food Chef and Chu Me prepare is full of healthy and wholesome properties that keep one as regular as a Katie Price exclusive in a tabloid newspaper. Still one can empathise with those that do.

This is partly due to the care that one seldom shows towards one’s household staff. If any of them are feeling bloated (‘Feeling’ because one is unable to go by looks alone, or one would be seeking a remedy every minute of service for some of them) or if any are finding it difficult to carry out their duties effectively due to a degree of constipation, one has had a long standing, simple solution to get things moving and get them back to work in a jiffy.

All one does is lead the afflicted individual to the kitchen, have a root around my pussy Crotchet’s cupboard and feed them an out of date prawn … then wait.

Within a matter of minutes they are back on their feet and, though one has not conducted any scientific experiments, one is convinced that they move a little faster as they work.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Jedward To Skydive Into Bush?


One wonders if any poppets have been tuning into 'I Need Publicity ... Any Chance of Getting Me In There'.
How ironic it was that as one pair of unpleasant, overrated breasts left the jungle, rumours were abound of another pair of equally unpleasant, overrated breasts were going in.

One, of course, refers to Jedward/John & Edward/the Brothers Grime/Satan's offspring* (*- delete as appropriate) from this years X-Factor.

Crusty, however, can now confirm - after further investigations - that they will not be skydiving into the nations most famous bush, since Katie Price walked off the show earlier in the week (Chu Me! ... Cancel the drop of Funnel Webs).

You know poppets, one can hardly blame dear Katie for her decision; the voters were being quite beastly in constantly putting her through for the jungle challenges. Personally, one would have walked off as soon as one was passed a beaker of cockroach smoothie.

Really! There are certain things a lady should not be made to swallow and the next time one bumps into Ant and Dec, one is going to slap their legs.

Saturday, 16 May 2009

Peter Andre & Katie Price's Split.

Like many of the Crustettes who keep up to date with celebrity gossip, Crusty read with sadness that the nation’s newspaper fodder Katie Price and Peter Andre have separated after only 4½ years together.

I supposed it should come as no surprise to us, or them, as the press have been frantically predicting it every day for …. 4½ years.

They’ve certainly proved a popular couple with books, chat shows and flies on the walls - I even thought I had come across a new one the other night “Crossing Jordan” – I thought you’d need a pretty strong rope and a pair of crampons for that mission, dear, but apparently is was a different Jordan.

One never likes to see Cupid’s shaft of love broken across the knee of fate, especially when people have successfully managed to breed. Crusty wishes them both well for the future.

Should Peter Andre require a retreat to gather his thoughts there is always a place for him at Crusty Hall. There is a bottle of baby oil and thong on standby should he feel the need.

Sunday, 4 January 2009

Katie Price Reveals Herself

Love It's intrepid reporter, Amy Brookbanks, has managed to exclusively find out the answer to the question that, one would imagine, no one has been asking; how does Katie Price manage to achieve her all-over tan without a tan line in sight?

The answer, my little Crustettes, is that she sunbathes naked.

Quite frankly, Crusty didn't expect anything else from her! Miss Brookbanks suggests this is only for the brave, however, I can assure her bravery does not enter into it; there's nothing Crusty likes better, in the hot summer months, than to sunbathe naked in the grounds of Crusty Hall with the relaxing sound of gardener chopping away at one's bush.

Even her husband, Peter Andre, practises this method of tanning. Katie reveals," Peter's got a brown willy!"

One would imagine the size of your breasts would indicate, to your husband, which is the back and which is the front, dear, so we will accept your explanation that the sun is the cause of the discolouration.