There's something so creepy about that. I mean if you take Liz's columns at face value, here the old bat is mooning about her One True Love David Scrace Who Spurned Me for years and years, quite openly, and he makes contact for publicity knowing she's almost certainly still holding a candle. And then starts going out with her. It's so cynical and obvious and gross.
I don't like the Liz presented in the columns or the farticles, but I don't really think anybody deserves to be played like that. Mind you he's paying for it, and not in gold Dunhill lighters, Apple products and Burberry suits for his tiny body that is so unique that even the centuries of tailoring expertise on Savile Row can't work around it.
My belief is that they probably agreed from the begining that he would be signing up to be part of her Diary (whether for publicity, cash, sex or gifts, who knows). We know that she sent out several 'why didn't you love meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!' letters to several men she had dated in the past purely to have something to write about and only Dscrace and one other bloke responded. She was also dumped by the Mail around this time and the MoS Diary was soley devoted to a completely made-up 'boyfriend' the FRS and that's when she really started to become a national joke. She HAD to have something, anything, to keep this last regular gig going. We also know that far from not seeing each other for 30 years Liz and Dscrace had been in contact only a couple of years before, but this would lessen the dramatic impact of the current storyline if she referred to that. The script that Liz had written in her head years before clearly included a proposal of marriage from Dscrace, which so far, to his only credit, he has not done. It is a Faustian pact for both of them, they may be more happy in real life than they are in the Diary but at what cost.
My belief is that they probably agreed from the begining that he would be signing up to be part of her Diary (whether for publicity, cash, sex or gifts, who knows). We know that she sent out several 'why didn't you love meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!' letters to several men she had dated in the past purely to have something to write about and only Dscrace and one other bloke responded. She was also dumped by the Mail around this time and the MoS Diary was soley devoted to a completely made-up 'boyfriend' the FRS and that's when she really started to become a national joke. She HAD to have something, anything, to keep this last regular gig going. We also know that far from not seeing each other for 30 years Liz and Dscrace had been in contact only a couple of years before, but this would lessen the dramatic impact of the current storyline if she referred to that. The script that Liz had written in her head years before clearly included a proposal of marriage from Dscrace, which so far, to his only credit, he has not done. It is a Faustian pact for both of them, they may be more happy in real life than they are in the Diary but at what cost.
Cynical manipulation and dancing with the devil. Quid pro quo - more "quid" than anything else. Neither person comes out of this well. The sympathy I felt, early on, for the Baker is now just a feeling of the whole thing being a contrived heap of nonsense. For which there must have been a deal made. Faustian pacts are not the foundations for happy-ever-after. I suspect the happy part of this drawn out saga wasn't ever properly happy. If you're properly happy, you don't whinge, whine and grizzle. (and bleat about financial wipe out, at the same time as mentioning super expensive purchases: money can't - and doesn't - buy love)
Only just catching up with last week's witterings. These repetitive childish rows really are getting like Groundhog Day, aren't they? The latest Diary ("In which we have another argument") gives us the following gripping drama:
He huffed around for a bit, then changed into his jeans, left his iPad, Dunhill gold lighter and keys, and the Burberry suit (what use to me is a man’s suit that has been altered to fit him and only him?) behind, and that was it.
He was gone.
....All this rang a bell, so a quick Google brought up the following entry from the Diary in March (entitled "In which we have an argument"):
I went up to my flat, and a few minutes later he appeared in the hallway.
He grabbed his clothes from the wardrobe, slung his key on the table, and left.
I gathered the rest of his stuff – his toothbrush, iPad and gold Dunhill lighter – and placed them carefully outside.
.......He sent me a text. ‘I have left some things outside your door. Don’t blame me if they get stolen.’
I opened my door, and still on the floor, like children in a toxic marriage, were the iPad and lighter, both of which I’d given him.
ETA so, the Dreary. Who will bet that the "pre-dinner entertainment" will not be to her liking?
Honestly, if she wants to marry him she should bloody ask him herself. If she doesn't want to marry him she should stop panicking and, in the event of a proposal, say "no thanks; I'd like to keep on as we are/living together will be plenty/I am dumping you in a self-esteem-boosting act 31 years in the gestation TAKE THAT HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA".
"So, I went to see my bank manager, and I have increased my mortgage to clear my tax debt."
Just. Like. That.
Oh, and the JL farticle... I hope that's organically sourced, sustainably farmed leather that the animals gave willingly when it peeled off painlessly during their annual moult.
Ahhh, three doses of Liz today. Liz didn't go to university you know, she went to one of those grim technical colleges, but was of course badly let down. I am sure we are all shocked that Britain's highest paid journalist admits:
'I failed to get a degree or even complete the journalism course and not just because of my anorexia...'
There's something (just the one thing??) that doesn't sit right about her assertion that she has 'never gone through puberty'. She is forever telling us that she had her ENORMOUS breasts cut off. So in order to grow ENORMOUS breasts she must have passed through puberty. They don't just arrive one day in the post.
Ah yes, pendulous udders. Women who haven't passed through puberty tend to look like Olga Korbut (one for the elderly), at least until she gave up gymnastics. They do not develop pendulous anythings. Is it possible that Ms Jones has LIED to us?
"So, I went to see my bank manager, and I have increased my mortgage to clear my tax debt."
Just. Like. That.
Convenient, since as far as I know, these courts don't sit on a Saturday (which is when she claimed she was up) and the names of bankrupts are published.
Ah yes, pendulous udders. Women who haven't passed through puberty tend to look like Olga Korbut (one for the elderly), at least until she gave up gymnastics. They do not develop pendulous anythings. Is it possible that Ms Jones has LIED to us?
Liz Jones LIED to us? Perish the thought! Love the way she describes herself as 'the country's most famous columnist' - really? Shades of whistling in the dark there ... who's she trying to convince - the MoS editor? Still wittering on about Oxford, because they didn't show her the due deference and general brown-nosing she obviously considers her due. Dear God, make whingeing an Olympic sport - we'd get every medal going.
As for the fashion farticle, were I the John Lewis organisation, I'd be tearing out my collective hair at how bloody awful she makes those clothes look. Not just the terrible fit but some of the combinations ... cardie and what looks like a full length petticoat and that weird mix of floral skirt and t-shirt with bobbly bits. And yes - those knobbly knees, the 'oooh, I know how to do the standard model pose' (no you don't) and worst of all, that rictus snarl that passes for a 'smile'. Pity that John Lewis, before they agreed to the shoot, didn't have a look at the ghastly dogs dinner she made of the M & S range a few months ago.
Now - a few questions: first, is Prudence still held hostage? What happened to 'Michael the Hearing Dog' since in a recent farticle about dogs she listed all hers, but Michael wasn't mentioned. Did Michael chew on one sheep too many and got blasted to doggy heaven by the twin barrelled shotgun of an enraged farmer? Or did the Baker, fed up with fending off a doggy nose burrowing into his groin, issue an ultimatum: 'It's the dog or me - you choose ...'
And - given that Jones has said she's leaving her 'cupboard' - where is she going to live now, assuming she's not going to stay full time in her Yorkshire mansion? Surely she's not moving in with The Baker?
After last week's "row" - which consisted of Liz taking offence at something she practically led him into saying and culminated in him once more walking out and leaving the items he left behind to be listed - I'd be extremely surprised if the proposal she seems to want is forthcoming. If it he is completely deranged. If she says yes, it will only be for the column inches and hence the money, as she quite clearly doesn't love him in any accepted sense of the word.
"So, I went to see my bank manager, and I have increased my mortgage to clear my tax debt."
Just. Like. That.
Yep, didn't you know that these days - after the banking crisis caused by banks lending ridiculous sums against property, to those who had no way to pay it back - they are now willing to lend tons of money to profligates heading towards imminent bankruptcy ?
Shame on you...
And there was I expecting next week's diary entry to be 'In which I make a call to Wonga and give them a piece of my mind because their telephone operatives are stupid and discriminate against the deaf. '.
It seems very likely then that the bigger mortgage is one that the bank believes she is capable of paying. She will just have to economise a little, perhaps by plucking her own knees and stocking up on Garnier Fructis next time it's on special. Learn to darn, Liz, then you can repair your designer outfits. And next time the Baker packs a hissy fit and leaves behind the iPad, gold Dunhill lighter and Burberry suit, put them on Ebay.
Morning all! Nothing much to add to this week's bunch of toss: the Dreary is now so boring I don't know how she gets away with it week afetr ghastly week. Such rubbish. The 'poor me... I coulda been a contender if only it wasn't for my Ma & Pa" drivel was a new low: the never been through puberty/huge breast issue is a bit of an eye opener. Of course, there afre no photos of the 'melon years'... can it be they never existed? John Lewis must be out of their minds... to let the mad old pensioner at their dressing-up box and get her weird penis-knees out in public... not to mention the frightful 'just wet my knickers' posing *shudders*. Mad old baggage.
The rictus smile... you forgot the rictus smile, as if all the botox has suddenly coagulated and set (and btw, is she, as a committed quasi-pseudo-jack vegan, aware of exactly how the potency of botox is tested?).
The Melons Years... in all the (admittedly few) pics I've seen of her as a teen/early 20s, the norkage appears to be adequate without being udderly pendulous. Odd that 'DScrase didn't say "blimey, where did your tits go ?" as, according to her, when she first lusted after him, they were mahoosive.
.... So in order to grow ENORMOUS breasts she must have passed through puberty. They don't just arrive one day in the post.
LJ isn't a mere mortal, so hers were probably delivered on a Sunday morning, by a uniformed postman* who bowed, doffed his cap, but - most of all - knew his place [* aka the 'nork stork?'] :8
Ah yes, pendulous udders. Women who haven't passed through puberty tend to look like Olga Korbut (one for the elderly), at least until she gave up gymnastics. They do not develop pendulous anythings. Is it possible that Ms Jones has LIED to us?
Hmmm, that could explain LJ'S numerous layers of passion-killing night attire, not to mention the 17 cats snoozing on the duvet ..
The rictus smile... you forgot the rictus smile, as if all the botox has suddenly coagulated and set (and btw, is she, as a committed quasi-pseudo-jack vegan, aware of exactly how the potency of botox is tested?).
The Melons Years... in all the (admittedly few) pics I've seen of her as a teen/early 20s, the norkage appears to be adequate without being udderly pendulous. Odd that 'DScrase didn't say "blimey, where did your tits go ?" as, according to her, when she first lusted after him, they were mahoosive.
Allegedly.
Isn't DScrace kind of head in the clouds most of the time? He probably didn't even notice her norks because he didn't even notice her. It appears he doesn't actually remember her from back then anyway. Apart from the midnight storm hair, which is so obviously made up.
The trouble with the Diary, well, one of the troubles, is that it is written so far ahead that the 'cliffhanger' endings are redundant. If Dscrace had indeed taken Liz up the, er Shard and fulfilled his contract by proposing to her it would have been on the front cover of Fluffy Wuffy Animals Weekly by now and the Side Bar of Shame. So no need for us to purchase a Michael Korrs hat just yet.
Comments
My belief is that they probably agreed from the begining that he would be signing up to be part of her Diary (whether for publicity, cash, sex or gifts, who knows). We know that she sent out several 'why didn't you love meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!' letters to several men she had dated in the past purely to have something to write about and only Dscrace and one other bloke responded. She was also dumped by the Mail around this time and the MoS Diary was soley devoted to a completely made-up 'boyfriend' the FRS and that's when she really started to become a national joke. She HAD to have something, anything, to keep this last regular gig going. We also know that far from not seeing each other for 30 years Liz and Dscrace had been in contact only a couple of years before, but this would lessen the dramatic impact of the current storyline if she referred to that. The script that Liz had written in her head years before clearly included a proposal of marriage from Dscrace, which so far, to his only credit, he has not done. It is a Faustian pact for both of them, they may be more happy in real life than they are in the Diary but at what cost.
Cynical manipulation and dancing with the devil. Quid pro quo - more "quid" than anything else. Neither person comes out of this well. The sympathy I felt, early on, for the Baker is now just a feeling of the whole thing being a contrived heap of nonsense. For which there must have been a deal made. Faustian pacts are not the foundations for happy-ever-after. I suspect the happy part of this drawn out saga wasn't ever properly happy. If you're properly happy, you don't whinge, whine and grizzle. (and bleat about financial wipe out, at the same time as mentioning super expensive purchases: money can't - and doesn't - buy love)
He huffed around for a bit, then changed into his jeans, left his iPad, Dunhill gold lighter and keys, and the Burberry suit (what use to me is a man’s suit that has been altered to fit him and only him?) behind, and that was it.
He was gone.
....All this rang a bell, so a quick Google brought up the following entry from the Diary in March (entitled "In which we have an argument"):
I went up to my flat, and a few minutes later he appeared in the hallway.
He grabbed his clothes from the wardrobe, slung his key on the table, and left.
I gathered the rest of his stuff – his toothbrush, iPad and gold Dunhill lighter – and placed them carefully outside.
.......He sent me a text. ‘I have left some things outside your door. Don’t blame me if they get stolen.’
I opened my door, and still on the floor, like children in a toxic marriage, were the iPad and lighter, both of which I’d given him.
It really is beyond parody, isn't it?
Just for a change.
And she's back with the pointy in stance and terrible choices. Does she have to put on shirts two sizes to large to look "borderline anorexic"?
ETA so, the Dreary. Who will bet that the "pre-dinner entertainment" will not be to her liking?
Honestly, if she wants to marry him she should bloody ask him herself. If she doesn't want to marry him she should stop panicking and, in the event of a proposal, say "no thanks; I'd like to keep on as we are/living together will be plenty/I am dumping you in a self-esteem-boosting act 31 years in the gestation TAKE THAT HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA".
Just. Like. That.
Oh, and the JL farticle... I hope that's organically sourced, sustainably farmed leather that the animals gave willingly when it peeled off painlessly during their annual moult.
Ahhh, three doses of Liz today. Liz didn't go to university you know, she went to one of those grim technical colleges, but was of course badly let down. I am sure we are all shocked that Britain's highest paid journalist admits:
'I failed to get a degree or even complete the journalism course and not just because of my anorexia...'
Interesting that she neglected to mention not finishing her course in the last sorry excuse for a book. Would explain a lot, mind...
Liz Jones LIED to us? Perish the thought! Love the way she describes herself as 'the country's most famous columnist' - really? Shades of whistling in the dark there ... who's she trying to convince - the MoS editor? Still wittering on about Oxford, because they didn't show her the due deference and general brown-nosing she obviously considers her due. Dear God, make whingeing an Olympic sport - we'd get every medal going.
As for the fashion farticle, were I the John Lewis organisation, I'd be tearing out my collective hair at how bloody awful she makes those clothes look. Not just the terrible fit but some of the combinations ... cardie and what looks like a full length petticoat and that weird mix of floral skirt and t-shirt with bobbly bits. And yes - those knobbly knees, the 'oooh, I know how to do the standard model pose' (no you don't) and worst of all, that rictus snarl that passes for a 'smile'. Pity that John Lewis, before they agreed to the shoot, didn't have a look at the ghastly dogs dinner she made of the M & S range a few months ago.
Now - a few questions: first, is Prudence still held hostage? What happened to 'Michael the Hearing Dog' since in a recent farticle about dogs she listed all hers, but Michael wasn't mentioned. Did Michael chew on one sheep too many and got blasted to doggy heaven by the twin barrelled shotgun of an enraged farmer? Or did the Baker, fed up with fending off a doggy nose burrowing into his groin, issue an ultimatum: 'It's the dog or me - you choose ...'
And - given that Jones has said she's leaving her 'cupboard' - where is she going to live now, assuming she's not going to stay full time in her Yorkshire mansion? Surely she's not moving in with The Baker?
Yep, didn't you know that these days - after the banking crisis caused by banks lending ridiculous sums against property, to those who had no way to pay it back - they are now willing to lend tons of money to profligates heading towards imminent bankruptcy ?
Shame on you...
And there was I expecting next week's diary entry to be 'In which I make a call to Wonga and give them a piece of my mind because their telephone operatives are stupid and discriminate against the deaf. '.
Sadly that now seems unlikely.:(
The Melons Years... in all the (admittedly few) pics I've seen of her as a teen/early 20s, the norkage appears to be adequate without being udderly pendulous. Odd that 'DScrase didn't say "blimey, where did your tits go ?" as, according to her, when she first lusted after him, they were mahoosive.
Allegedly.
Isn't DScrace kind of head in the clouds most of the time? He probably didn't even notice her norks because he didn't even notice her. It appears he doesn't actually remember her from back then anyway. Apart from the midnight storm hair, which is so obviously made up.