Tag Archives: fred and rose west

Prick of the Week- Geordie Shore

After watching the first episode of MTV’s Geordie Shore- Chaos in Cancun on Tuesday night, I can only assume that the producers advertised recruitment for the show as ‘Are you a failed abortion with no job or future? Do you like saying the word ‘Bantah’ a lot, but have absolutely no idea that banter doesn’t mean having sex with strangers on camera that is played back to the general public in nightvision while they laugh at you? Were you facing a life of robbing to subsidise your benefits for learning difficulties? Well then, apply to Geordie Shore today, and start your new life as a glorified porn star who is paid to slither around the VIP section of low-rent nightclubs!’

Admittedly, I watch the show so this is entirely hypocritical of me. But I’d watch anything, so that doesn’t say much. There was a time when Geordie Shore was once funny, some of the characters were even *slightly* endearing, but, like every reality show nowadays, the characters have got wise on how to build up an ’empire’ (I’m using ’empire’ in the loosest possible sense here), and the show has become massively contrived and awkward.

Take baby-voiced, arm flailing, towel-as-daywearing, Charlotte and bitchy Lego man, Gary. I am fucking sick to the back teeth of looking at these two gimps as they act out the sort of on-again off-again relationship that would have Katie Price saying, ‘Enough is enough. This bullshit isn’t worth the coverage in Heat magazine’.

Gary’s wingman is Jay, the perfect posterchild for a campaign to adopt capital punishment in the UK, with the slogan, ‘Who cares if a few innocent men are convicted wrongly and die? It’ll be alreet, pet.’ 

On the outskirts of this nonce-fest is Sophie, a lesser wanker than the others, but a wanker none-the-less. Sophie has left behind boyfriend Joel, basically an uglier-faced Ken doll with a very prominent steroid-addiction, to go to Cancun. Lucky her.

But sadly, these four are the most likable of the cast. My least favourite is James– a poor man’s Anthony Hutton who makes me want to invent a time machine just so I can go back to the time of his conception and stop his mother from downing those rohypnol-laced lagers and beg his father to stop raping women in the back alley of the pub. His treatment of Holly, a girl with daddy issues so severe, the entire live-in community of the Playboy mansion is currently sending her a ‘Thinking of You During this Difficult Time’ card, is abysmal, but hey- that’s just the power of the combover. Holly is best friends by default with Rebecca, Newcastle’s answer to Olive Oyl from Popeye, if Olive Oyl was a massive tart.

In the midst of this pack of abysmal cunts is Ricci and Vicky, Newcastle’s equivalent to a more-unlikable Fred and Rost West. Both are underlying serial killers- Vicky’s uncontrollable rage, egoism and relentless bullying simmering at the edges, coupled with Ricci’s arrogant bastardism, coloured Ray-Ban favouring and general drunk dickheadness make for the sort of concoction that would make the majority of the general public turn a blind eye if a terrorist attack occurred in the Newcastle Upon Tyne area.

So now the ‘gang’ are in Cancun, ready to slime around the place, spreading AIDs all over everything in Mexico and getting on it like a car bonnet. Mexico is famed for being the murder capital of the world, but it is assured that Cancun is a very safe place for tourists to holiday with absolutely no threat of murder. Pity that.

Geordie Shore– fuck you.

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