Oh god, now I’ve got an image of a wee Yorkie terrier in a tweed cape and jaunty wee bunnet in my head and damn you to hell.
Wee note about the fees - if the fees are calculated at around £1 million ($1.2 million in silly-looking “money”) then the losing party in a libel trial is expected to settle the fees for both parties, with some exemptions. Vardy’s apparently worth £3 million by herself and her husband is apparently worth £11 million…
And then she’d chuck the phone that tracked her location into the nearest sea or lake to cover up her tracks!
Here in the UK lottery winners can remain anonymous legally, but there was something published about ten, fifteen years ago where the lottery operators at the time (Camelot) had a “helpful guide” to how to handle winning all that money. One of the instructions said something like “tell people you’ve won the lottery! Ot…
In the immortal words of Mitzi the Magnificent, Kylie: shut up and eat your hormones! Christ, enough with the early-2000s-level-of-bloggery, write a real fucking article for a change. Amber shat the bed and you’re rolling around in it, my darling.
Don’t make me laugh at you. The moaners, sorry, “Millennials” have Mean Girls. Generation X has this as one of our cornerstone go-tos.
So, I’m not a fan of Beyonce but this album is fun. Cuff It is bloody marvellous and has already been bounced onto my favourites playlist on Spotify.
A garbage drink made by watching a garbage video on a garbage app using garbage wine. What could go wrong?!
So...Sims: Southern US Edition then?
How old’s this prick and what do you plan to do about him? Moaning’s not going to solve anything.
So, prick attacks emus, and the birds get free nibbles for their actions? Yup, sounds about right. (Just a shame it wasn’t a Cassowary. Those bastards are terrifying)
“Gotta wonder, though, if Ronald D. Moore is familiar with the Arthur C. Clarke’s 1951 novel, The Sands Of Mars, which involves a father-son subplot.”
Christ. Does he validate parking? Is that the big attraction about this cretin?
Shut up, Chachi.
But...but...it’s not Star Trek if it doesn’t have that bloody idiot doing a mumbly-breathy voiceover and/or/including some wordy speech about “interconnectivity” and “reaching out to form new bonds” like some demented space-bound psychotherapist!
You take that back. The Pauly Shore one was an epic of shite filmmaking. It was almost as bad as Twilight.
Okay, so here in the UK we have a food store called Iceland. Yes, it sounds naff, especially when you think of the cool little country in the North Atlantic, but it’s actually really good for frozen basics and essentials. And one of the things they have is frozen steam bags of ready-cooked rice and vegetables.
Christ, I forgot he went out with a St Trinian. She was exceptional in Westworld, mind you.
No, because the pre-diabetic female hordes of ‘Murka need something to visualise themselves as and what better than a slow-moving waddling creature that sleeps for several months of the year?