Thursday, 24 March 2016

DAVID LETTERMAN IS THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES

I HAVE A VERY VIVID RECURRING NIGHTMARE 
in which a man who looks exactly like this chases all of my children into a hole and eats them. 
The Daily Mail
We are mere hours away from the holiest day of the Catholic year, so naturally my thoughts turn to the fact that I have mere hours left to say and do all the things I will soon have to beg our lord Christ's forgiveness for. (I think he appreciates that I keep him busy. You always love your bad kids the most!) Which brings us neatly to the fact that A) I have no intention of eating stinky fish on Good Friday and B) speaking of stinky fish, could you ever in a million years guess who this pervy bearded codger is? Yeah don't hurt your brain, I'll give you a hint: IT'S DAVID FREAKIN LETTERMAN. 

That's right, David Letterman, 68 going on a hundred and eleventy, getting his fitness on in St. Bart's. Although one wonders why he even bothers because clearly this bizarre reverse-Benjamin-Button death race his body is taking him on will see him rigor-mortised by Sunday. One scarcely knows which part of this visual terrorism to look away from first: the teeth the colour of opium addiction, the beard that reeks of child molester, the wrinkled knees that scream "prison bitch" ... it's like the universe took one look at him and said: "Top 10 reasons why retirement is a bad idea: Go!"

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and hide chocolate eggs all over Rob Ford's body in case he rises from the dead on Easter Monday. Just like Jesus did. *makes the sign of the cross, dodges bolt of lightning* What? He loved chocolate!!!