All the money in the world.
Jewellers scrambling over their mountains of precious stones to offer up priceless baubles for the glitteratti to hing round their toned, honed and fully made-up necks. On that basis perfection is what the baying public expect so what happened to this lot? It’s nae a hoe down at Caesars Palace, Hawick you know. Here’s Sandra, a close personal friend, dear dear Sandy as I call her, clearly she has a great sense of humour and she scrubbed up well in this lush frock but the old Bullock Blowhole or as we Aberdonians call it the fish wifies gub destroyed the vision and returned her in our eyes to mere mortal.
Now this next piece – a hair piece if you like – not in the wig sense of the word but in the ‘lordy as soon as a geezer feels happy and content in the arms of a gorgeous Italian supermodel he neglects his crowning glory and starts to turn from George Clooney wanton sex object into George Hamilton V’. Sob. Check out the Long, lifeless hair – no not her! Him! Our George (or Dod as I like to call him) has brushed his hair 100 times before bed like his Mum told him too and then swept it to the side. Now with the help of state-of-the art technology
Now dry your eyes and let’s try to move on as happily there were other distractions there to keep our minds off the fact George is almost definately off the market – not cos of the new bird – but enough is enough we have standards you know.
J-Lo always looks fabulous and it is a well known fact that in the past she has spent many hours concealing her quite chunky extra leg. However last night she received a rapturous round of applause when for the first time she publically acknowledged it citing the fact her twins were aware of it and didn’t bat an eyelid when she wandered around in her bra and pants so it seemed the opportune moment to stop the pretence of being a bi-ped and just get on with it. Well good On you Jen! Opening the floodgates for all other Hollywood Leg Ends to stand up and be counted we hope.
So you’re blonde, gorgeous, floating into the Oscars in a beautiful gown. You’re line free, cellulite is something you’ve heard of but aren’t sure if it’s a face cream or a urinary infection. You have legs up to your neck, they are honed and firm, you have not a trace of facial hair or hormonal inbalance so why may I ask do you look so ******** miserable? If Alison’s Diary had been young, firm, rich and lucky enough to there it would have filled it’s handbag with freebies, half the buffet and gone round getting it’s photograph taken with every star in the place (except George’s hair I’m afraid) whilst necking a bottle of champagne. So ! This little madam needs a reality check. Come to Govan for an afternoon dear then tell me you don’t live in a fantasy bubble of marvellousness. Can’t be doing with that.
Many people wonder who the Oscar was made in the image of, well the answer was in 1972 when David Niven introduced live on stage during the ceremony the actual model for the statue, a Dundonian jute baron called Bill Gordon. As you can see a lively individual and worthy of such an accolade I am sure you will agree.
Though on reflection he looks very like David Wilkie the Olympic swimmer and another well known Scot but not, as far as I am aware, a Jute Baron of note.
It was a joy to see her relatively small budget film (though I hear it is turgid) kick his squillion dollar epic in the nads.