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Sucking the blood of popular entertainment
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I The Leech has; been so busy. “(F/Ill” lit-on fired from a day Jot) (illtftillllg I()llllf3[f; to \Johnny Knoxvillo'f; newly rolurhisshod house on tho Ho.al Milo whilo selling thorn a DVD (:opx, of the original Live Aid (tonoort lpirttuiodl, that tho Loooh decided to party. l'ho Ed Ruscha exhibition party vitae billed as; tho shindig of the season: l-iusriha and old mate Janet Street Porter were supposed to he there. along with a how of bikini-clad hoautlot; son/log (Z()(?M£ll|f$ around the pool of tho Scotsman Hotel. [tnthusod tho Leeeh donned the skimpy two-piece and \.'lf3ll(?(i what must he a low point of Edinburgh LA (;ro:;5;o\.'or glamour. Faced With one liaron £l|(i()il()||(3 tree (tooktail. toilets lll tho changing room. a (tordonod oli pool and zero (I(}|(?i)l'|l) count. tho Leech decided to kill off what was left of a social (:lirnhing (tarooi h\ getting ridiculously drunk in a puh, on|\ to wake up prostrate and with onlx a bikini and regret for company
I E\or \.~.~ondered what MSPS do during these short winter days to earn their monm 1‘ Well, they send out eulogies to rooonth deceased Radio DJs. that's ‘.'~.’hat. The last two weeks hax e seen MSPS Colin Fox. Pauline McNeill and Frank McAveety. among others. prais‘ing John Peel in
MSP’
12 THE LIST '5 N‘s—.3 Dec SOC-1
. . s but starve the hairdresser
long, word, digroefuo'ix .'.’illli: eonsudonng .uhothor to support the (flitfl'lf; ol Non'.’ MUSIV in 8 ’« itland iNi-MIS: and hands and supporters from all ouor Scotland to stage \J’Hlll
Pool tuliuto gigis for Children in Need.
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MoAxooty later an‘endod McNeill's; motion by throx'ang hands Jesus and Mary Chain. l)al|l)o{. and Camera Obscura into the ll‘lX 4that's; fi()ll‘(: taste Ill rnusrt: you have there. l'ranki.
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It's; good to know that the real li;f3tl(éi; that affect us; all are being (llStIllSStfti at tho hug house.
Ausayerlia
I Finally, a few of the other non-
stories that limped into the Leech's; Inhox this week. Viagra for girls is (tornsng out soon. Great. now women can JOlll those Saturday night casualty queues after taking t 0 much V:agra and an‘iphetarnines. Then there's Leo Sayer. \‘x’hen need moo. ,ou sta't moaning about the state of the British pop industn, and then piss off to the beating heart of musu: . . Australia. Get oxer yourself and wake us a pie.
In the name of loxe. NUQ. a U2 tribute band who will be playing l" a bathtub-Sized xenue near ‘,.ou soon. have unuzittinglg, ntade histerj. t)". bent: the first to preniexa the new songs of the grOup the; boxer. NU2 ta ta: broke and three U2 LllilCOkallht‘BSr nae bee" don-.rnioading tunes froh‘ Bono and the bo;.'s' new aloun‘ and .‘.tl; be
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YOU’Pé THé FA THéP/
They are gorgeous and they‘re big and strong. Beyonce's thighs gyrating, strutting and slinking are beacons to behold. For women across the world thunder thighs are now something to be proud of, not something to be ashamed of. The schoolgirl look, that dubious fashion for under- developed limbs, slipping into weeny-hips, is as passe as it is unattainable. Love women; love your thighs; love Beyonce.
PREMATURE AUTOBIOGRAPHIES
The whole point of an autobiography is it‘s supposed to tell a LIFE story. So why do publishers insist on foisting books upon us about half- baked celebs who are barely out of short trousers and shoplifting make- up from Boots? What does Paula Radcliffe have to say for herself, eh? She ran a race, she won, she ran a race, she lost, she cried a bit. The End. As for Robbie Williams, now on his second ‘warts and a”' book of revelations, just don’t get us started.