Tag Archives: The Situation

How To Be A Reality Star

Reality television is a very popular format upon which many current stars were born, and with legitimate career opportunities at an all-time low, coupled with the amount of human fuckwits at an all time high, there has never been a better time for people with absolutely no shame to break into the exciting world of reality TV. Here’s how you can do it in five easy steps:

Be The Architect of Your Own Fuckwittery

Unfortunately, they don’t just let anyone star on reality television- you must be exceptional in your field, and should represent yourself as so. Look at reality TV greats of yesteryear: Frankie Cocozza, The Situation, Amy Childs, etc. What do they all have in common? That’s right, they are all cunts.

Therefore, after decking yourself out with a suitably detestable name (e.g The Lord, Shabba or RapeBoi) play about with cunty catchphrases (e.g ‘That’s funkypigeon dot com’, ‘Merp’ or ‘Less of the argy-bargy!’), wanky haircuts, racist tattoos, fake-designer clothing, and perhaps even a signature dance move like the little one from JLS who looks like zombified Michael Jackson in the video for Thriller. He fairly sings for his supper, bless him. In the end, your persona should be attractive enough for teenaged girls to stop picking fudge out of their braces long enough to try to get ‘The Lord is our shepherd, there is nothing I shall want’ trending on Twitter, but not attractive to the point that under-aged fans will be tempted to sell details of sleeping with you to the papers.

Be Fussy

When choosing your fame platform, don’t just sign up to any old show- be fussy and pick ones that will showcase you in the right way. If you have zero talent and are a generally worthless human being, why not sign up to appear on Big Brother, where all you need to get accepted are daddy issues, an eating disorder and a rampant STD (make sure you tick the ‘not fully blown AIDs yet’ box, as then you’ll still be allowed in the hot-tub).

If your talent is being pretty or having ‘swag’, then you could probably make it to the bootcamp stage of X Factor, in which you’ll most likely be lumped into to a band with four other interchangeable versions of yourself as a lifeline. Remember to practise your surprised face for when Simon Cowell announces this development in slow-motion against a soundtrack of Celebration by Kool and the Gang. Finally, if you have a sense of self-worth but are not overly good-looking, you’ll probably not make it in the glamourous world of reality TV. Best dropping out now and leaving it to the pros, hos and schmos, yeah?


Any reality star worth their salt-diluted cocaine knows that one does not merely ‘make it’ in the world of celebrity. Fame costs- and right here is where you start payin’ in the currency of humiliation, parental shame and the threat of going to hell. Believe it or not, some of the most famous reality stars strategised their rise to fame; who knew the participants of Big Brother have a ‘game plan’? Not me! There are many ways to do this but the quickest route is ‘Sleep with a co-star, fake a pregnancy scare, don’t take a pregnancy test straight away because you’re ‘trying to figure out how you feel’, tell the potential father, potential father asks ‘Is it mine?’, you run away crying, potential father comes after you to apologise and say he’ll do his best to raise the baby, you and potential father make a go of it for a day, take a pregnancy test, pregnancy test negative, break up a week later, selling story to Daily Star entitled ‘My pregnancy scare hell with Zippy from Big Brother 17- How A Lucky Escape Saved Me and My Unborn Non-Child’. Popty ping- instant fame.

Partner Up With A Mate

When acquired, the best way to heighten your fame is to pool it with another mediocre reality star and ponce about town together, getting ‘papped’ doing futile things like shopping for your worthless selves and generally being a posterchild for capital punishment. Partnering up has many other advantages, such as throwing a spanner in the works to prolong being ‘outed’ by the press (Kanye West and Kim Kardashian), providing a ruse against the universal suspicion that you are asexual (Kanye West and Kim Kardashian) and facilitating some much needed company at night when you would have otherwise just spent your time alone, at home, ugly-crying and tweeting pictures of yourself in your sunglasses and underwear to your fans (Kanye West and Kim Kardashian).

Of course, you can also increase your headlines three-fold by deciding to have a child with your fellow reality star, perhaps snagging you a maternity line for Argos and an exclusive feature in OK! magazine when the poor bastard is born. However, it is important to note that, unlike in mathematics, two negatives do not make a positive; your child is likely to be a clinically-diagnosed imbecile. But hey, that just means you’ll be nominated for Wink Bingo’s Parent of the Year. Score!

Diversify Your Brand

Sadly, your five minutes must come to an end at some stage- but you can diversify your brand to prolong your fame and refresh your current image. If you’ve followed the above steps and your show was cancelled, you’ve had the baby and you’ve broke up with your partner, now is the time to diversify into new markets, such as taking loads of drugs in a seedy nightclub, becoming gay, getting diabetes or being ‘horrified’ by a ‘leaked’ sex tape. You could also take it one step further and die, as there are many new, untouched opportunities in this industry for reality stars, such as coffin-endorsements, memorial plates and then, of course, a reality show that writes itself as you star in your own journey to the afterlife.

And finally, shine on, stars of tomorrow!

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Snooki Pregnant- What’s Next For The Jersey Whore?

Glamorous and not-at-all insulting to femalekind pickle-enthusiast, Nicole Polizzi, a.k.a. Snooki, is knocked up. Sorry, ‘pregnant’. I keep forgetting that she’s a human being with feelings. Maybe.

It has been reported that Snooki is ecstatic to be ‘with child’ and if a girl, she will be named ‘Absynthia‘. If she is carrying a boy, Snooki hopes to call it ‘The Contraception’. While this name appears to pay homage to fellow Jersey Shore misfit and future rehab roomie, The Situation, Snooki has confirmed that it is actually an acronym, compiled with the initial letter of each potential father.

Snooki hopes that the baby is a boy, due to future career opportunities available, in which she and The Contraception can tour America’s country clubs together. She and The Contraception (who is an adult as this stage…. probably. But possibly not.) can pretend to be embroiled in a torrid cougar-style love affair while scamming bored housewives out of their money.

But that’s not to say Snooki wouldn’t be delighted if she had a daughter. Not only does Snooki yearn for an heir to inherit her array of $5 crotchless dresses, fuckload of neon flip flops and plentiful collection of grafitti-print lesbian-style trucker hats, she also dreams of the day she gets to teach her child how to pole dance for the MTV cameras.

And how will the young (in mental age) mother cope balancing a busy career of drinking until she pukes while putting on a whiny baby voice and hitting Pauly D with various inflatables and being a mother (theoretically)? Simple- little Abcynthia/The Contraception has already signed a contract for the next series of Jersey Shore, named ‘Jersey Shore- Whoops I Forgot To Take My Pill’. MTV producers are very excited about up-and-coming storylines, including an episode in which the baby wins fourteen consecutive games of Scrabble against the rest of the cast, the baby stays sober to look after the rest of the cast on a night out, and The Situation gets stabbed right in his stupid-steroidy face. Which has nothing to do with the baby, but wouldn’t it be nice?

Here’s wishing mother-to-be, Snooki, the best of luck in her journey. And more so to her baby, who should be quaking in age-inappropriate boots. Fist pump!

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Being a Himbo- Tips for the Modern Man

In an attempt to abolish the idea that this website is written exclusively for women who need to be put in their place, by women who need to be put in their place, I think it’s time to address the male readers of this blog and give them a few tips to enrich their lives. So, thank you for reading, boys, and this blog goes out to the three of you.

Let me start by clarifying that I never meant to alienate you with the pretty pink backdrop you are currently staring at.  This is a frequent misconception about my blog, and it would like me to point out that it isn’t pink, it’s merely blushing at how paltry and forced the jokes are.

Anyway, the Feminist Rights Movement called for the abolition of gender inequality, in the hope that, one day, men and women would be viewed as equal on all platforms. One would expect that this movement would propel the human race to disregard the objectification of women, and allow women the freedom to think and be heard, to be educated and to have the right to the same opportunities as men. In short, to remove the idea from society that women are just mothers, housewives and sexual playthings.

That’s the ideal. Many women still choose to tart themselves up, hoist up the cleave and call it ‘entrepreneurial’. ‘Beauty is power!’ they cry to shitty tabloid papers, whilst having little else to say because being smart isn’t attractive, and that elaborating means they have to use their words. Nonetheless, the Feminist Rights Movement and evolution itself has facilitated a change in attitude that promotes equality among the two sexes- but, while many women have enjoyed this progression, many men are choosing to devolve to nothing more than posing, pretty boys. Welcome to the age of the Himbo.

From Geordie Shore to, well, Jersey Shore, Himbos are out en masse, and if you don’t like it, well- you were a slag anyway. Next! At least that’s what they’d say. Himbos are very visual and like to keep women ‘on their game’ by telling them how ugly, fat and interchangeable they are. This is the first rule of being a Himbo- treat ’em mean, keep ’em lean.

Speaking of being lean- as an aspiring Himbo, disguise the fact that you are a vain motherfucker with no personality by being in great shape. This can be achieved by spending your whole day pumping iron at the gym and taking a fuckload of steroids. Don’t forget that diet of Lucozade, cigarettes, protein shakes and self-loathing! Fist pump!

Enhance your chiselled son-of-a-bitch self with a leathery, dehydrated tan and the latest fashion pour hommes. Every Himbo worth his salt knows that a pair of jeans that don’t cover your arse and are hanging low at the crotch are a fashion must, the more flourescent the better. These are extremely versatile and show off your cunty cartoon briefs that aren’t cool and make you look mentally disabled. Said jeans can be dressed up or down as required, for example, when you tire of working as a ‘model’ in Hollister and fruitlessly visit your local jobcentre, team your fuckwitted jeans with an annoying 80’s throwback t-shirt and American Apparel hoodie. You douche.

When heading for a Himbo night out the town in search of slags and chlamydia, complete your outfit with a wife-beater style top that barely covers your nipples. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go to Topman and just look at the very first garment as you walk in the door- it’ll be the top I’m referring to. Choosing an appropriate top is easy- just look for something that suggests, ‘I’m sorry I raped you, but my friends and I were having a competition to see who was the best sociopath. LOL.’ Infact, Topman may have this very slogan in store. Fortunately, such slogans supply you with a much needed personality, and may make it easier to break the ice when trying to approach a lady who you’d like to date and later mentally abuse.

House of Himbo Spring/Summer 2012 Collection Bestseller

Which brings me to my next subject: companionship. Much like the outdated tradition in which a bride is ‘given away’ by her father to her new husband like a ritualistic ‘fuck you’ to feminism, Himbos are nurtured by controlling and subservient mothers whose doting is so intense, no woman will ever be enough for him. Reluctantly, the right to iron his clothes, cook for him and generally be a slave are passed on nonetheless. When you finally decide to stop drinking in the type of shitholes where your flourescent Converse stick to the carpeted dancefloor when you are trying to dance to LMFAO’s ‘I’m Sexy and I Know It’, you will need a Bimbo with whom you can settle down and kill time until death by defining yourself by the car you own. You must choose a partner who matches you in vanity, intellect and ability to fight and cheat relentlessly. It’s probably that whore over there with the face piercings. No, not the goth- the slag over there doing the Slut Drop.

Make your Bimbo feel loved and cherished by telling her how much you love her via Facebook and other public domains. Conversing face to face just means no-one can see how much better and happier you two are than the rest of us, whereas putting private and intimate information on Facebook is more attention-seeking and dick-bagged. Respect.

The love between Himbo and Bimbo is sacred and built on a long tradition of doing a poor man’s version of whatever the Beckhams are currently doing smugly and publicly. The Beckhams’ latest self-marketing ploy is to be perceived as demure and private, all the while living in L.A. and actually doing the opposite of being demure and private. Adopt this strategy by structuring your sentences as follows: ‘Not to brag, but (insert bragging bullshit that no-one gives a fuck about here)‘.  When in the company of other couples, bore everybody shitless by whittering on about your dull and unremarkable life. People love hearing about your lives because you’re so glamorous. And remember to name drop as much as possible so as to impress everybody else that you know someone rich, which makes you better by association.

And finally, whether your hobnobbing with others and getting your ‘brand‘ out there, or just chilling with your friends that you call ‘homies’ or some other outdated word- remember to talk like an absolute cunt. Make sure to overuse the words ‘Awesome’, ‘Rock’ (as a verb), ‘Super’, ‘Dude’ and ‘Epic’, it’s really original and not hilarious in a laughing-at-you way at all. Justin Bieber would be proud, dude.

Oh, and before I forget, invest in a tennis racket to bat back all of the offers from MTV to star in their new reality show, seeing as you are ideal.

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