Posts Tagged ‘Soaps’

The above footage, filmed secretly by Melinda Slap-Dash pinpoints the beginning of the end of The Murdoch Empire in the UK.

It reveals the moment when Rebekah “Decker” Brooks,  clobbers her then husband Ross “Tiffany!” Kemp.

Brooks at the time was editor of The Sun newspaper, the most popular daily paper in the country, whilst Kemp revelled in the title as the hardest bloke in British soaps through his portrayal as  wobbly headed, swivel eyed “Natter” Grant Mitchell.

Grant would sleep with his wife, her mother, then his sister, then his mother before running over the wife and subsequently blame a fat bird who happened to be in the vicinity at the time. Each week. Every week.

Brooks recently gave “evidence” to the Leveson Enquiry. Here is a transcript of some of her “evidence”.

“As a child, I was bullied.“Gingernut, Carrot Top, Copperknob,” I was called and much worse too.  I still bare the mental scars. But I soon learned an important lesson from these bullies. Become one yourself, it is so much more fun!

Tony and Me At A T’Pau Gig

As I said to my former husband, Grant Mitchell when I decked him, “Stay down you fuck or I will publish the photos of you and the pickled onion.” Needless to say the hardest man on British Soaps did the decent thing. We are still good friends. The photos and texts make sure of that.

I have decided to pursue another long held ambition. To play in a T’Pau tribute band. T’POW. We have a show tonight at the War Graves Commission annual hop (well I know a thing or two about dancing on the graves of the dead) in Grimsby. Come along Me Lord! 

Doors open at 8. There’s a hog roast too.

Can’t wait to belt out China in Your Hand.  Carol Decker is so talented (sorry about that story a few years ago Carol – but your pubic hair was a matter of public interest).

Talking of monkey love, Rupert saw nothing wrong in it. Whoops, mustn’t stray too far from the gagging clause! But safe to say old Digger liked a bit of gibbon action now and again.

I am entirely innocent. At the time of the indiscretions I had a terrible cold. This manifested itself into a deep-seated cough. One day I said to Andy Coulson, “Andy I have a terrible hacking cough. Could you call my doctor and ask what he recommends for a hacking cough?” Coulson must have got the wrong end of the stick. Not the brightest lad Andy. I thought he was perfect for the Tories.

But I do have some lovely framed photos of Mr Cameron, indulging himself in monkey love. When I was in Chequers recently I asked if we could watch The Wire on Sky for a couple of hours.

PM And Yours Truly Backstage At A T’POW Gig

Whether the PM thought the photos and the programme were linked to our planned purchase of Sky, you will have to ask him. He’s not speaking to me. Only texting, Indirectly.

I published crap, peddled lies and exploited the weak to titillate. So that you proles would watch Rupert’s TV station and then buy Rupert’s papers to allow me to push more cynical, manipulative messages of trivia, intolerance and ignorance. Like feeding shit to a corpse. I loved it!

I did it for you people of Britain. Everything was for you. I know you blame yourselves for what happened to me. Please don’t. In time I will forgive you. Commissioner, saddle me horse!”

As she left the witness box, Ms Brooks headbutted Lord Leveson and shouted “Stitch that, sunshine!”


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