Britain’s Biggest Gobshite
by Ian R Thorpe
Boggart Blog 2009-06-07
WARNING - Extermely strong language.
Its always easy to tell when summer has truly arrived, the peak time TV scedules suiddenly get filled with the kind of dross that would not normally make it into 3 a.m. slot on Bravo channel.
Last night then must have heralded the official start of summer. The ninety minutes from 9 until 10:30pm were devoted to an egomassageumentary about people who spend a lot of money.
Biggest Spenders the program was called but these were not really the biggest spenders but the biggest gobshites (except for a Lady named Lisa who has made a fortune through being good in her chosen field and is simply enjoying the rewards.) Put them together and they were not in the same league as Elton John, several big racehorse owners or any number of discreet Shieks.
There was Ami the pole dancer who has not quite worked out that it’s a really smart idea to earn it before you spend it. Ami was a nice girl who had simply made the mistake of having brain tissue removed and injected into her tits. Ergo she had massive tits and no sense. And a massive credit card debt.
Then there was Denize (not a spelling wizzard), a pikey who marred a rich (and very possibly blind) guy and screwed a massive divorce settlement out of him. Denize talked big money but actually spent little.
And then there was Scott, the total and absolute king of chavs. With his expensive jewellery that looks like bling, his expensive suits that look like mail order catalogue gear and thanks to hormone injections and cosmetic surgery Scott, 31, thinks he’s the dogs bollocks. Unfortunately his face, which may well have come from the David Gest academy of cosmetic surgery, looks like a dog’s breakfast. 31 my arse.
There was something about Scott that put me in mind of Peter Cook and Dudley Mooore’s Derek and Clive characters. Perhaps it was the way I involuntarily muttered “cunt” in response to each of his statements about how much he had spent on this, that and the other and how great he was. This man demonstrated why positive thinking should be declared a crime againt humanity. Remove the word “I” from his vocabulary and he would be dumb.
Scott showed us round his penthouse, telling us it was the biggest and most expensive in an exclusive development, (“cunt”) then he let us into the secret of his fridge. Normal guys’ fridges contain half a pizza with extra green mould topping, a few beers and a bottle of curdled milk. Scott’s is full of growth hormone serum which at £1000 a shot “keeps me looking young and great” (“cunt”) Someone should tell him it is not working, I’m 60 and he looks ten years older than me.
When Scott closed the fridge door we saw he has emblazoned on it No. 1. (“cunt”) Now why does he have to keep reminding himself?
Next we went abroad with Scott, he is buying a town in Bulgaria for £3million. Nobody seems to have investigated the possible pitfalls of Bulgarian property law. I know nothing about Bulgaria but I do know in many former communist countries people have fallen into the trap of buying land from people who don’t actually have the authority to sell it. No worries there for Scott. All he is thinking about is that once he owns the land he can rename the little town after himself (“Cuntville?.”)
While in Bulgaria Scott lets us in on the secret of his success with women. Once I start spending all these gorgeous girls will be flocking round me he tells the camera as he and sidekick trawl a nightclub. Poor Scott is not very worldly when it comes to women then, wherever I have been in the world there are always girls who will flock round a big spender. Every language has its own word for them.
Next we see Scott in Marbella where we discover he has a big tattoo on his back. Did it spell out WINNER? (“cunt,”) something like that. Oh well, if you want to honour a dodgy British film director famous for the Death Wish franchise, why not? Scott is on the pull again, boasting about his physique which is actually very good (he’s a former fitness instructor.) “This beach is only for the super rich, but they are mostly old guys, with our looks and our money we’re going to be fighting them off,” he says, (“cunt.”) Even the sidekick looks embarrassed as girl after wealthy looking girl ignores our Lothario and cozies up to one of the old but cultured guys.
But Scott is not finished with us yet, oh no, he wants to show us he is a player too. Off to the casino then. There are nights I’m on a roll, I can clean up quarter of a million he says, other nights I drop quarter of a million, but its not lost, it will come back, I’m a winner. Scott’s betting strategy on the roulette wheel is that of a complete novice and he quits, obviously feeling the pain, after dropping fifteen grand very quickly.
In closing Scott tells us he feels invincible, the growth hormones, which apparently everyone in L.A. is using will keep him alive and youthful until he is about a hundred and forty. He actually looks a hundred and forty now so they're not working. But Scott will always be a winner because he totally believes in himself.
Oh, by the way, his hair is dyed too.
(“Cunt”)
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