1: Osama Bin Laden
2: Barack Obama
3: Kylie Minogue
4: John Terry
5: David Cameron
6: Courtney Love
7: Paul McCartney
8: Lewis Hamilton
9: Tiger Woods
10: Cheryl Cole
Showing posts with label Celebrities. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Celebrities. Show all posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Need For Speed
Classy new advert from Vodafone featuring Lewis Hamilton, Heikki Kovalainen and Barry from EastEnders.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
I Have No Shame
Those of you who visit this humble outpost of the worldwide interweb on a regular basis (have you nothing better to do?) may recall that I am no fan of erstwhile Celtic and Wales striker John Hartson.
In this post, I placed him third in my list of most disliked Mhanky Mhob players. And in this one, I compared his dazzling good looks to those of the fatally wounded Darth Vader when he removes his mask at the end of Return Of The Jedi.
But last night, on a night out for Mrs Wife's birthday, we were in the VIP bar at Fat Sam's in Dundee, where our fellow drinkers were Rangers midfielder Charlie Adam and Hartson, the latter presumably in the City of Discovery for punditry duties at today's clash between Dundee United and Rangers.
Anyway, I clearly have no shame, as here I am with Hartson. It's very rare that I'm the thinnest person in any photograph, especially when the other person is a recently retired professional athlete:
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Chess With The Presidents
Jaggy was right - the mystery celebrity in the previous post was Paul "Gazza" Gascoigne.
I've said before that Gazza is amongst my favourite footballers of all time, and that Brian Laudrup is the only player I've seen in a Rangers shirt who would be his equal.
But he's clearly a serious ill man with myriad problems that don't have an easy solution. Problems that have been exacerbated by fame and fortune from a young age and by a series of hangers-on who have indulged his every whim and ridden the gravy train until it was so far off the rails as to be insalvageable.
My favourite part of the article from the previous post is this section:
"I rang my dad and said, "Get your stuff ready. Me and you are going to Madison Square Garden to play chess against President Bush and President Clinton." God knows what I was going on about — I didn't even have a chess board."
Aye Gazza, that was the fatal flaw in your plan to play Presidents Bush and Clinton at chess in Madison Square Garden - the lack of a board....
I've said before that Gazza is amongst my favourite footballers of all time, and that Brian Laudrup is the only player I've seen in a Rangers shirt who would be his equal.
But he's clearly a serious ill man with myriad problems that don't have an easy solution. Problems that have been exacerbated by fame and fortune from a young age and by a series of hangers-on who have indulged his every whim and ridden the gravy train until it was so far off the rails as to be insalvageable.
My favourite part of the article from the previous post is this section:
"I rang my dad and said, "Get your stuff ready. Me and you are going to Madison Square Garden to play chess against President Bush and President Clinton." God knows what I was going on about — I didn't even have a chess board."
Aye Gazza, that was the fatal flaw in your plan to play Presidents Bush and Clinton at chess in Madison Square Garden - the lack of a board....
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Beauty and The Beast
As I write this, Mrs Wife and I are watching Desperate Housewives on Sky+.
At 44, Terri Hatcher looks almost as good as she did at 30. Which must be nice for her.
Unfortunately, many of Hollywood's leading ladies can't say the same.
I'd imagine that for the first four years of his marriage, Guy Ritchie woke up each morning thinking: "Holy shit, that's Madonna".
But towards the end of the eight-year relationship, I'd imagine it was more like: "Holy shit, that's Skeletor".
OK, Terri Hatcher has a six-year advantage over Mrs Ritchie, but still, there's no question as to which would be the better catch, even with Madge's millions.
Desperate Housewives all the way.
At 44, Terri Hatcher looks almost as good as she did at 30. Which must be nice for her.
Unfortunately, many of Hollywood's leading ladies can't say the same.
I'd imagine that for the first four years of his marriage, Guy Ritchie woke up each morning thinking: "Holy shit, that's Madonna".
But towards the end of the eight-year relationship, I'd imagine it was more like: "Holy shit, that's Skeletor".
OK, Terri Hatcher has a six-year advantage over Mrs Ritchie, but still, there's no question as to which would be the better catch, even with Madge's millions.
Desperate Housewives all the way.
Friday, February 22, 2008
One Paul Gascoigne
Alastair has posted on the sorry tale of Paul Gascoigne, who was sectioned under the mental health act yesterday, and my post here is a re-hash and embellishment on a comment I made on that post.
Aside from Brian Laudrup, Paul Gascoigne is the most talented player I’ve ever had the pleasure to see in a Rangers shirt. On his day and at the top of his game, he was simply unplayable, and I was fortunate enough to have a pitch-side seat the day he single-handedly destroyed Aberdeen at Ibrox to win the Premier League in 1996.
Unfortunately, he is also one of the most unstable, misguided, naive and easily-led individuals ever to have been sucked into the world of professional football. Hangers-on like Mel Stein, Jimmy Gardner and even fellow celebrities like Chris Evans and Danny Baker were happy to ride Gascoigne’s coat-tails whilst the gravy train was rattling on at a fair pace, but I doubt many will be there to pick up the pieces now.
Mad? Frequently. Bad? Occasionally. Sad? As his life has spiralled downwards in tandem with his prodigious abilities, most definitely.
Had his career blossomed ten years later than it did, Gascoigne would probably have been the world's first £100,000-a-week player, and a superstar on a par with David Beckham. Beckham, talented though he is, doesn't bear comparison with Gascoigne. But Beckham is more able to handle the fame and its associated pressures, and has made far more of his less bountiful gifts.
Gascoigne may have enjoyed his greatest successes and most stable years of his career whilst at Rangers, but the nine-in-a-row dressing room was not the ideal place for an alocholic to spend the peak years of his profession. Alongside fellow party lovers Ally McCoist, Ian Durrant and Andy Goram, Gascoigne was famously part of the "dressing room from hell", not renowned for its sobriety and quiet living. Infamously, all of those players sat out the 1998 World Cup, despite all easily being amongst the most talented players in their respective countries.
Whilst Gascoigne may have been a forerunner of today’s Beckham and Rooney hysteria, unlike Beckham he seemed patently unsuited to life under that kind of media microscope, and unfortunately has been paying the price of that fame since he was only a boy. I, for one, hope he has a speedy and full recovery.
Aside from Brian Laudrup, Paul Gascoigne is the most talented player I’ve ever had the pleasure to see in a Rangers shirt. On his day and at the top of his game, he was simply unplayable, and I was fortunate enough to have a pitch-side seat the day he single-handedly destroyed Aberdeen at Ibrox to win the Premier League in 1996.
Unfortunately, he is also one of the most unstable, misguided, naive and easily-led individuals ever to have been sucked into the world of professional football. Hangers-on like Mel Stein, Jimmy Gardner and even fellow celebrities like Chris Evans and Danny Baker were happy to ride Gascoigne’s coat-tails whilst the gravy train was rattling on at a fair pace, but I doubt many will be there to pick up the pieces now.
Mad? Frequently. Bad? Occasionally. Sad? As his life has spiralled downwards in tandem with his prodigious abilities, most definitely.
Had his career blossomed ten years later than it did, Gascoigne would probably have been the world's first £100,000-a-week player, and a superstar on a par with David Beckham. Beckham, talented though he is, doesn't bear comparison with Gascoigne. But Beckham is more able to handle the fame and its associated pressures, and has made far more of his less bountiful gifts.
Gascoigne may have enjoyed his greatest successes and most stable years of his career whilst at Rangers, but the nine-in-a-row dressing room was not the ideal place for an alocholic to spend the peak years of his profession. Alongside fellow party lovers Ally McCoist, Ian Durrant and Andy Goram, Gascoigne was famously part of the "dressing room from hell", not renowned for its sobriety and quiet living. Infamously, all of those players sat out the 1998 World Cup, despite all easily being amongst the most talented players in their respective countries.
Whilst Gascoigne may have been a forerunner of today’s Beckham and Rooney hysteria, unlike Beckham he seemed patently unsuited to life under that kind of media microscope, and unfortunately has been paying the price of that fame since he was only a boy. I, for one, hope he has a speedy and full recovery.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Beadle's Not About
So Jeremy Beadle has passed on to that great bloopers reel in the sky.
I think the news on Radio 1 summed Beadle up perfectly this morning, when it described him as "famous in the 1980s and early 1990s".
I was never much of a fan of Beadle's About, but was entertained for many years by You've Been Framed, which he presented in its early years as Sunday night prime time fare.
And a quote from the man himself summed up what was probably many a person's view of him - that you imagine he'd be a bit of a dick, but was a likeable enough chap when you met him face to face.
But now he's gone.
Unless this is all a big prank and he's going to leap out of the coffin at his funeral, dressed as a traffic warden....
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Money, It's A Gas
I'm probably risking legal action by posting this, but as it's currently doing the rounds on the worldwide interweb, I thought I'd share it with you strange folks.
Liverpool defender John Arne Riise's pay slip has ended up in the hands of someone who shouldn't have it. And they decided that the best thing to do would be to take a photograph and post it on the net.
So, what do we learn from the document? That Riise earns 120,000 pounds a month - 30,000 a week in popular tabloid terms. That for August 2006, he earned a 250 pound "points bonus" and a tidy 15,000 pound bonus for playing in the Champions League.
We also find out that an average Premiership earner, well below the top dogs like Rooney, Lampard and Gerrard, pays more than 55,000 pounds in tax in an average month. And that, after all deductions, he walks away with more than 82,000 pounds in an average month.
So what do we learn? Absolutely nothing - we already knew that Premiership footballers had far too much money. Nonetheless, Riise and his advisors have launched an investigation to find out how the pay slip became publicly available.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
On The List
Today, to pass a slow afternoon at work, two colleagues and I engaged in a lively debate on Top Five Hottest Female Soap Stars of All Time. (This discourse was similar in structure to our semi-regular debates on the All-Time Best Football XI.)
Anyway, as an overview of the general standard of the discussion, my decision to leave Kylie Minogue and Kimberley Davies out of my list raised some eyebrows, and we stepped off on a lengthy tangent as we debated whether Baywatch was a soap opera or not.
Having exhausted our mental lists of soap actresses, we threw the game wide open and changed it into The Ten Hottest Women In The World Today.
I'll spare you the gory details of the inner mental workings of three bored men in their mid 20s, other than to say that Eva Longoria is one man's pocket-sized Latina sex goddess and another man's irritating midget clothes horse.
But eventually, we reached the defining question of our debate - Britney Spears: Yay or Nay?
Do you shut your eyes and remember the Slave For U years? Or are you mentally scarred at the prospect of making Buckasaurus (the mythical grunting beast with two backs) with a drink and drug-addled, tattooed skinhead thug who's recently had their children taken away?
If I remember the discussion correctly, Mrs Federline received a unanimous thumbs down from the panel. Which, considering she's 26 and should therefore still be at her peak, is a depressing indication of how far she's fallen from grace in the past five years.
And the whole "remember the glory years" debate truly reached its nadir shortly afterwards when, returning to the soap stars theme, one member of the party (who shall remain nameless) uttered the words (electronically at least) Barbara. Windsor. - basing his justification on Carry on Camping.
That, dear readers, is why you should never allow young men to get bored.
Anyway, as an overview of the general standard of the discussion, my decision to leave Kylie Minogue and Kimberley Davies out of my list raised some eyebrows, and we stepped off on a lengthy tangent as we debated whether Baywatch was a soap opera or not.
Having exhausted our mental lists of soap actresses, we threw the game wide open and changed it into The Ten Hottest Women In The World Today.
I'll spare you the gory details of the inner mental workings of three bored men in their mid 20s, other than to say that Eva Longoria is one man's pocket-sized Latina sex goddess and another man's irritating midget clothes horse.
But eventually, we reached the defining question of our debate - Britney Spears: Yay or Nay?
Do you shut your eyes and remember the Slave For U years? Or are you mentally scarred at the prospect of making Buckasaurus (the mythical grunting beast with two backs) with a drink and drug-addled, tattooed skinhead thug who's recently had their children taken away?
If I remember the discussion correctly, Mrs Federline received a unanimous thumbs down from the panel. Which, considering she's 26 and should therefore still be at her peak, is a depressing indication of how far she's fallen from grace in the past five years.
And the whole "remember the glory years" debate truly reached its nadir shortly afterwards when, returning to the soap stars theme, one member of the party (who shall remain nameless) uttered the words (electronically at least) Barbara. Windsor. - basing his justification on Carry on Camping.
That, dear readers, is why you should never allow young men to get bored.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Golden Balls Will Burst
I've never hidden the fact that I think David Beckham is a bit of a fud.
Admittedly, he's a very well-paid fud who has made the most of his limited footballing abilities, honing them so that, at his peak, he was the best right-footed dead ball specialist in the world.
On his day, such as when Beckham booked England's place at the 2002 World Cup with a last minute free kick - to draw with footballing leviathans Greece - he was immense, covering every inch of the pitch and pressing his team mates forwards.
But he's never going to feature in anyone's All-Time World XI.
If the truth be told, I don't actually mind the on-pitch Beckham too much. Despite an irrational hatred of Manchester United (Cristiano Ronaldo and Darren Fletcher excepted) and the deep joy I take from each defeat bestowed upon England's national side, I don't feel the same loathing for Beckham that I do for some other professional footballers (the names Lennon, Bellamy, Thompson and Sutton spring to mind).
It's Beckham's off-field activities that irritate me. For years, he and his real-life, 3D Photoshopped wife have uttered vacuous desires "to break America". Why? Why must they inflict themselves on another country - in fact, another continent? Would it not make more sense for them to continue working in the UK after Golden Balls hangs up his boots, but to live in comparative anonymity in Hollywood?
The simple answer (can there be any other type when it comes to the gruesome twosome?) is no - they cannot rest until everyone on the planet owns a product touched by the hand of one of the Beckhams. Whether a Spice Girls concert ticket, an LA Galaxy shirt or a pair of Police sunglasses, everyone must buy into Brand Beckham.
But before this rant descends any further, the purpose of this post was actually to show some sympathy to David Beckham.
Much has been made of his new trans-Atlantic lifestyle now that he is plying his domestic trade in the United States whilst attempting to recreate his international glories on the battlefields of Europe.
Boo-hoo. Beckham knew what he was doing when he signed his 250 million dollar Galaxy contract.
But when you see the extent of his travelling laid out in front of you, it is pretty formidable. Between September 8 and October 18, Beckham's schedule (presuming he were fit enough to play in all matches, and selected for the relevant squads) is as follows:
Saturday September 8: London
Wednesday September 12: London
Thursday September 13: Los Angeles
Sunday September 16: Los Angeles
Wednesday September 19: Utah
Sunday September 23: Los Angeles
Thursday September 27: Kansas
Sunday September 30: Ohio
Wednesday October 3: Vancouver
Sunday October 7: Houston
Wednesday October 10: Minnesota
Saturday October 13: London
Wednesday October 17: Moscow
Thirteen matches in 40 days, in four countries. For a fully fit professional athlete at the top of his game and his physical peak, that would be a punishing schedule. For a 32-year-old who, after finishing a punishing season in Spain's top flight, travelled straight to America to play for LA Galaxy, whilst also resurrecting his international career, it's impossible. And that's without mentioning the fact that Beckham isn't even really fit enough to finish ONE match, let alone 13. Or the fact that he'd also have training between those matches - ideally at least, although travelling across America, over the Atlantic and around Europe will have a huge impact on that. And on top of all that, he's probably also signed up for countless days of promotional work and advertising campaigns.
For once, I feel sorry for David Beckham.
Admittedly, he's a very well-paid fud who has made the most of his limited footballing abilities, honing them so that, at his peak, he was the best right-footed dead ball specialist in the world.
On his day, such as when Beckham booked England's place at the 2002 World Cup with a last minute free kick - to draw with footballing leviathans Greece - he was immense, covering every inch of the pitch and pressing his team mates forwards.
But he's never going to feature in anyone's All-Time World XI.
If the truth be told, I don't actually mind the on-pitch Beckham too much. Despite an irrational hatred of Manchester United (Cristiano Ronaldo and Darren Fletcher excepted) and the deep joy I take from each defeat bestowed upon England's national side, I don't feel the same loathing for Beckham that I do for some other professional footballers (the names Lennon, Bellamy, Thompson and Sutton spring to mind).
It's Beckham's off-field activities that irritate me. For years, he and his real-life, 3D Photoshopped wife have uttered vacuous desires "to break America". Why? Why must they inflict themselves on another country - in fact, another continent? Would it not make more sense for them to continue working in the UK after Golden Balls hangs up his boots, but to live in comparative anonymity in Hollywood?
The simple answer (can there be any other type when it comes to the gruesome twosome?) is no - they cannot rest until everyone on the planet owns a product touched by the hand of one of the Beckhams. Whether a Spice Girls concert ticket, an LA Galaxy shirt or a pair of Police sunglasses, everyone must buy into Brand Beckham.
But before this rant descends any further, the purpose of this post was actually to show some sympathy to David Beckham.
Much has been made of his new trans-Atlantic lifestyle now that he is plying his domestic trade in the United States whilst attempting to recreate his international glories on the battlefields of Europe.
Boo-hoo. Beckham knew what he was doing when he signed his 250 million dollar Galaxy contract.
But when you see the extent of his travelling laid out in front of you, it is pretty formidable. Between September 8 and October 18, Beckham's schedule (presuming he were fit enough to play in all matches, and selected for the relevant squads) is as follows:
Saturday September 8: London
Wednesday September 12: London
Thursday September 13: Los Angeles
Sunday September 16: Los Angeles
Wednesday September 19: Utah
Sunday September 23: Los Angeles
Thursday September 27: Kansas
Sunday September 30: Ohio
Wednesday October 3: Vancouver
Sunday October 7: Houston
Wednesday October 10: Minnesota
Saturday October 13: London
Wednesday October 17: Moscow
Thirteen matches in 40 days, in four countries. For a fully fit professional athlete at the top of his game and his physical peak, that would be a punishing schedule. For a 32-year-old who, after finishing a punishing season in Spain's top flight, travelled straight to America to play for LA Galaxy, whilst also resurrecting his international career, it's impossible. And that's without mentioning the fact that Beckham isn't even really fit enough to finish ONE match, let alone 13. Or the fact that he'd also have training between those matches - ideally at least, although travelling across America, over the Atlantic and around Europe will have a huge impact on that. And on top of all that, he's probably also signed up for countless days of promotional work and advertising campaigns.
For once, I feel sorry for David Beckham.
Friday, August 03, 2007
The No-Longer Missing Links
Today, I'm going to take the opportunity to help you strange people of the worldwide interweb steer your browsers in the direction of a couple of sites that I heartily recommend.
First up, and most important of all, is People Who Don't Blog...But Should. As the name suggests, the site manages to track down blogs by those people who don't actually blog. It's quite a feat, I'm sure you'll all agree.
The reason I'm bigging up PWDB...BS is because I have become a contributor, so that those of you who don't get enough of my crap at this site can find some more to wallow in over there. It's the brainchild of Misssy Martin of the Misssy M Misssives, whose site I stumbled upon recently via Aberdeen Blogs (who, as yet, haven't added me to their list). I'd heartily recommend that you take a look at the Misssives as well.
PWDB...BS will probably get us all sued (the URL isn't Celebrity Litigation for nothing) but hey, it's better to die in poverty after being sued by the Beckhams than it is to....emmm.....do something else.
Next up is The Dangerous and Daring Blog For Boys and Girls, as recommended by Elisson. It helps those who are growing up in the age of cartoon channels and electronic toys to find worthwhile things to make and do themselves, without resorting to what the Britney clones on MTV are telling them to do.
Included is a step-by-step guide to making a rocket. Which may be an activity that I can engage myself in this weekend.
Don't say I'm not good to you....
First up, and most important of all, is People Who Don't Blog...But Should. As the name suggests, the site manages to track down blogs by those people who don't actually blog. It's quite a feat, I'm sure you'll all agree.
The reason I'm bigging up PWDB...BS is because I have become a contributor, so that those of you who don't get enough of my crap at this site can find some more to wallow in over there. It's the brainchild of Misssy Martin of the Misssy M Misssives, whose site I stumbled upon recently via Aberdeen Blogs (who, as yet, haven't added me to their list). I'd heartily recommend that you take a look at the Misssives as well.
PWDB...BS will probably get us all sued (the URL isn't Celebrity Litigation for nothing) but hey, it's better to die in poverty after being sued by the Beckhams than it is to....emmm.....do something else.
Next up is The Dangerous and Daring Blog For Boys and Girls, as recommended by Elisson. It helps those who are growing up in the age of cartoon channels and electronic toys to find worthwhile things to make and do themselves, without resorting to what the Britney clones on MTV are telling them to do.
Included is a step-by-step guide to making a rocket. Which may be an activity that I can engage myself in this weekend.
Don't say I'm not good to you....
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Smeatonmania - "We'll set about ye"
Things have gone a bit crazy here at Groanin' Jock over the past 24 hours - with more than 200 visitors dropping by to read about John Smeaton's heroics.
So I thought that it was only right to share the video of the great man giving his TV interview.
So I thought that it was only right to share the video of the great man giving his TV interview.
Friday, June 29, 2007
The Years Haven't Been Kind...
...To the Spice Girls.
As seen at Agent Bedhead
Is anyone else alarmed that Victoria Beckham's breasts are larger than her head? Or that Geri Halliwell has turned up for the biggest press conference of her life wearing her Granny's curtains?
As seen at Agent Bedhead
Is anyone else alarmed that Victoria Beckham's breasts are larger than her head? Or that Geri Halliwell has turned up for the biggest press conference of her life wearing her Granny's curtains?
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
All wight?
In very poor taste, but funny nonetheless.
Those of you who don't know who Michael Barrymore is, type the name into Google alongside "murder" and "pool" and you'll find out soon enough.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Arresting Behaviour
Worrying news from the Police State of Aberdeen.
A male stripogram is to be charged for dressing as a police officer for his routine.
I realise that impersonating a police officer is a criminal offence, but it's not as if the guy was planning on arresting anyone or issuing speeding tickets. One big giveaway is that instead of saying 'Police' on his back, it says 'Stripper'.
In fact, the uniform he was wearing wasn't even going to stay on terribly long - such a short space of time that the real police officers were happy to watch the show.
What a complete waste of time, public money and police resources.
Unlike in India, where a warrant has been issued for the arrest of Richard Gere.
That sounds like a far better cause for the law enforcement agencies to pursue. While they're at it, the Indian authorities can also take steps to punish Gere's frequent crimes against humanity such as An Officer and A Gentleman, Pretty Woman and Unfaithful. And having him in court will give everyone another opportunity to have a little chuckle at the gerbilling story/urban legend.
A male stripogram is to be charged for dressing as a police officer for his routine.
I realise that impersonating a police officer is a criminal offence, but it's not as if the guy was planning on arresting anyone or issuing speeding tickets. One big giveaway is that instead of saying 'Police' on his back, it says 'Stripper'.
In fact, the uniform he was wearing wasn't even going to stay on terribly long - such a short space of time that the real police officers were happy to watch the show.
What a complete waste of time, public money and police resources.
Unlike in India, where a warrant has been issued for the arrest of Richard Gere.
That sounds like a far better cause for the law enforcement agencies to pursue. While they're at it, the Indian authorities can also take steps to punish Gere's frequent crimes against humanity such as An Officer and A Gentleman, Pretty Woman and Unfaithful. And having him in court will give everyone another opportunity to have a little chuckle at the gerbilling story/urban legend.
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