Wow, this 31-year-old boy's in for a bright future! But he's only got nine months to put his celebrity act together, to start learning off by heart just the right things to say in interviews, the right clothes to wear, the questions to brush aside, the answers that attract audiences, when to joke, when to be serious, how to sign contracts to skin a kangaroo for a Japanese or American TV crew, where to invest his earnings...Sorry, Irwin, it's time to get your heavenly arse out of the arena. Tina too. There's no way of combating this new wild beast. His fighting credentials are infinitely better than those of existing gladiators, including even Mad Max and the blond girl who married a washed-out hillbilly. If only David can sign up Mori as an agent...
Bloody lucky Australia! The country hasn't lost a single boy in Iraq (thank Allah), Howard and Bush are convinced that the sun shines out of each other's arsehole, and here we have in our own Taronga [Sydney's zoo] the only existing real-life specimen of a genuine home-grown terrorist, with direct links to Godfather Osama.
Flucki cuntri! [texto for fucking lucky country]
No comments:
Post a Comment