Tag Archives: Max Clifford

Condoms and Students


George Soros Condom

George Soros, “Le Roi” of  Hedge Fund managers and currency speculator-in-chief has bought 5% of  The Female Health Company. Is he planning to screw someone? Is Mary Ann Leeper looking over her shoulder? Remember when  George Soros screwed the British Pound in 1992 and forced Sterling to exit from the European Exchange Rate Mechanism?  He trousered a cool £1 billion from that deal.What’s he up to?


This is the way it works. Max Clifford calls his chums at the Daily Mirror on Tuesday and gives them a story: ” Louis and Cheryl fall out”, ” Cheryl and Simon fall out”, “Danni not speaking to Louis”. You know the sort of thing – and there are many permutations.

On Wednesday, it is all  printed on Page 5  by which time Max has called again with another “story”:  “Wagner kicks the crap out of _______” , ” Cher is a pikey”, ” Wassail girl becomes unglued” etc.  That sorts out Thursday’s Page 5.

Strangely enough though, by Saturday night, when we’re all gathered around our screens, everything looks quite stable.

We love it!

Well done , Max.

The Enlightened Catholic

Archbishop Andre-Joseph Leonard who is the head of all Catholics in Belgium has said that HIV is justice for the “travesty of homosexuality”.

People like the Belgian Archbishop and all of the other ordained men in pretty dresses are also a travesty.  They are a travesty of human decency.

Perhaps he should keep busy by concentrating on dissuading his staff from screwing young boys. Now THAT’S a travesty.

University rip-off?

These days, when you go to University, it is not just the tuition fees that you are spending money on and sometimes, life can be hard.  From 2012, it could become a financial nightmare whose repercussions could result in some pretty extreme social engineering. Among other things, the new rules could generate a disincentive to work, a “brain-drain” and they could even affect  first-time buyers in the housing market.

For three years, you will for pay rent at £100 per  week, that’s a total of about £10,000. Food, drink and Entertainment? Let’s add £5000 per year, which is about  £15,000. If your University is charging £9000 per year for tuition, you’ll borrow £27,000.

Add that lot up and you have a total spend of over £50,000.

Then remember that to compete properly in the job market you need a decent degree because nowadays, it seems that everyone with a double-digit IQ has a degree.  So, the question is, are you confident that you are both clever, committed and ready to work hard enough to achieve a decent degree?

Do you want to go to a lower-tier university where third-rate students are taught by second-rate lecturers?

Or are you willing to risk £50 grand?

( I should point out that I attended university when there were no fees and only clever people went.  There were no degrees in Equine Psychology, David Beckham Studies or any of the other vacuous pseudo-vocational qualifications which are currently being dished up by former Polytechnics).

You should also be aware that if, at the age of say 25, you find yourself sitting (or kneeling)(or worse) before a bank manager and you ask for a mortgage, a debt such as the one you are likely to be burdened with will automatically screw your chances of a mortgage.

Purely for comparison purposes, I can tell you that I know people  who charge less than $5000 to write a PhD dissertation – and that includes coaching.

Final thought: We live in a market- driven economy. Are we going to be subjected to the unedifying spectacle of universities competing on fees.

“Oxford will charge you £9k but we can do it for just over £3k and we’ll throw in some Air Miles.”

It could happen.

Cheryl Cole minor strife

Ashley and Cheryl Cole – two thick working-class pikeys who we somehow expect to behave respectably, simply because of the very thin veneer of respectability afforded them by the presence of a shed-load of money. Cheryl Cole is a convicted thug as is her brother Andrew  Tweedy who has 70 convictions.  So far, Ashley Cole only has the usual array of a footballer’s driving convictions but his current claim to fame is his infidelity.

Footballers are not renowned for their intellect – in fact, most of them are inarticulate meatheads who also enjoy the advantage of not being overburdened with any obvious value system. The result is that they are only dimly aware that they may be doing something wrong when they are unfaithful, grope strange women, crash their cars, beat people up or spit at each other.

Cheryl Cole is a Newcastle council-estate-reared girl who happens to have been through the showbiz “star machine”. If  she hadn’t got lucky, what would she be? A doctor, an artist, a geologist?  Unlikely.  At the age of 27, she would most probably be on a Tesco checkout with three children of various shades in the local crêche.

The saying  “Put lipstick on a pig and it is still a pig”  applies in equal measure to both Ashley and Cheryl.

Designer trainers, frocks, 50K watches, shoes and handbags only serve to paper-over the lack of class – the inner person remains a fully paid-up resident of pikeydom. They are the absolute  equivalent of the  lottery winner who blows his wad within two years and then admits that he has always felt better when claiming Social Security. That is what he and they are designed for. They will always be well outside their natural comfort zones. The stained velour tracksuit and rust-encrusted Ford Escort are  only several pay-cheques away.

Cheryl had a pushy mum who helped an average girl realise a mother’s dream. There are thousands of wide-eyed hopefuls with ambitious mothers, but only a few make it. It is a combination of work, luck  and barefaced chutzpah but for the few successful ones, it is  the equivalent of a lottery win. Unfortunately,  when they do “make it”  they never have the class to cope.

The journalist who invented the WAGS classification was the first to realise that we are dealing with a whole new sub-species which was crying out for its own label.  We do not admire them – we mock them. The only group that  does admire WAGS is the next generation of aspirational bimbos who have themselves been bred and reared to be WAGS.

To the rest of us, people such as the Coles are not people we either admire or aspire-to. They are merely an entertainment. Three pages in a Sunday red-top. The formula is simple – Act One: wife on holiday, being “comforted” . Act Two: husband pays big bucks to publicists and lawyers to keep as much garbage out of the press as possible. Act Three: Enter a posse of bimbos with their brains between their legs.  Act Four: A grovel  by the randy husband and usually a reconciliation.

These are only FOUR elements to this 21st century morality tale.

In the last few weeks, we’ve had Tiger Woods, John Terry and now Ashley Cole. There are many more waiting in journalist’s notebooks, folders and hard drives.

The formula is now well established so all that the story needs to keep it interesting is an occasional change of cast.

What is the next Act in the Cole saga?  That’s easy – it’s approching time for the public grovel so let’s hope that Ashley Cole does not use the same writers that screwed up the script for last week’s Tiger Show !

The epilogue is usually in two parts – firstly, the “other women” hire a publicist ( usually Max Clifford)  and their stories are published. Finally, the husband and wife are photographed on their “make-or-break” holiday.

Final line: “The trouble is that I really love him.”

Exit to the sound of clicking snappers, as the brand-new diamond necklace/bracelet/ ring  twinkles in the Ivy candlelight.

Price of Jordan.

Apparently ALL books, perfume, underwear, horse-riding gear etc which are being distributed under the Jordan brand are taking a bit of a nose-dive. Lower sales and an unwillingness of major stores to even distribute the goods appears to indicate the end of the  Jordan obsession.

That was all happening BEFORE Ms Price walked out of “I’m a Celebrity”. Those in the know think that leaving the show was a major mistake.

Here’s what Max Clifford has said:

“In terms of PR, what Jordan did last night was not a good move at all.

“It’s clear the public don’t like her because she kept getting nominated for all the trials. By storming off, that has been cemented.”

Max added: “She could have used the jungle to her advantage but she’s done the opposite.

“It could be the beginning of the end for her. Next year could be it. Her career is starting to show elements of diminishing returns.

“The public have seen the real Kate Price over the past few months and they don’t like what they see.”

Max should know and he is right.

It seems that Jordan has finally been found-out. Even an army of ghost-writers and PR men will not be able to put Jordan together again.

Incidentally, she ought to sue the plastic surgeon who “did” her face – especially the platypus-like top lip and the catalogue nose.

Russ and Ross – Dumb and Dumber.

“He fuck my granddaughter so I fuck him and his friend. Pajeros! “

So Jonathan Ross told Andrew Sachs’ answerphone that Russell Brand fucked his granddaughter. So what?

The BBC has always had a bit of a po-faced attitude which took root in “the Beginning” – in (The)Lord Reid’s day. In those days, Christians did not fuck except to procreate and the Brits were still suffering from the post-Victorian sex hangover which regrettably still persists to this day.

The Brits are obsessed by sex, although the word “fuck” is still unacceptable – but only in certain contexts. Jonathan Ross can say “fuck” on television, although admittedly, there is exec-rationing of the word. Interestingly enough, people do not fuck on the radio – not even a bleep.

Georgina Baillie is a little-known member of a striptease act called Satanic Sluts and her stage name is “Voluptua”. One is not suggesting that she deserves any less respect than Mother Teresa but let’s face it – this is publicity Manna-from-heaven for the girl. Ask Max Clifford – and rest assured, he will be extracting maximum mileage from this one!

There have been many “Max-lovelies” who can only be adequately offended by appearing in a Sunday red-top with their tits out. Let’s wait and see!

Georgina’s father Charles has announced that Andrew Sachs is a “national treasure”. No he is not. He is a middle-of-the-road actor who (many years ago) created a very funny but racist interpretation of a thick Spanish waiter called Manuel.

In those days, it was perfectly acceptable to refer to black people as “Sambos”,  Anne Bell showed her pubic hair on television, Ronnie Barker took the piss out of people with a stammer, and Ken Tynan said “fuck” for the first time. Happy days!

Nowadays, we have young men getting their knobs out on telly, young women showing their fannies and people regularly telling each other to “fuck off”.

The upshot is that we are all finding it more and more difficult to be properly offended although some of us do still play very hard at it.

Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand are a pair of damaged wankers but what sets them apart  and makes them so lovable is their incredible fluency  and unique use of modern  English- although Russell covers his lack of education with strings of borrowed, pre-packaged and/or contrived “mots non-justes”. ( I hope that he’s not offended and of course, I apologise unreservedly).

We enjoy the fact that Russell’s world seems to be one long shag-fest and we’re all thinking “You lucky, lucky bastard.”  We also know that Jonathan has modelled himself on American shock-jock Howard Stern and that he captures the psychological high-ground in most interviews with a crude reference or two. Let’s face it, he was hired by the BBC to be rude, crude and controversial and not to introduce Songs of Praise.

It’s horses for courses. For instance, you would never expect Huw Edwards to refer to his wife’s big tits but Jonathan can and does.  We love him for it and again we think “You lucky bastard”.

The bandwagon is creaking as politicians jump on, there will be questions in the House but really folks, it was just a harmless prank. A storm in a D-cup.

“Manuel” Sachs has been quoted as saying that apologies belong to his granddaughter.

Congratulations would be far more appropriate, wouldn’t they Max?