There was a thing on the radio today about the Madonna and Guy Ritchie divorce settlement. Ritchie is reportedly getting £50m for his trouble.Which set me to thinking that that's not a bad return for eight years of marriage. I'm such a shallow turd that I think I could put up with a monumental pain in the arse like Madonna for eight years if I knew I was going to come out of it with £50m in the bank. Yeah, I know it's a kind of prostitution, but £50m's £50m after all. You'd be the most expensive prostitute in history - you could even get Norris McWhirter and Roy Castle involved (Yeah, I know they're dead, but can you imagine? "He's a spunk-donating celebrity-shagging bank-account-emptying record breaker!").
You'd have to get used to her of course. I mean all that Kabbalah; being friends with Sting and his missus; adopting children; impregnating her; having to leave the pub because she's bored; having to see her naked (though this leaves very little to the imagination); being enthusiastic about her latest album/tour/film/kiddies' book must get wearing after a time. I could enthuse for England if I knew that there was a cheque for £50m at the end of it. Just think what you could buy: a whole Aston Martin, a season ticket for Forest (Hung Up is used as part of Forest's pre-match build-up music, they'd have to change that), a riverside apartment in Newark, the Genesis 1970-1975 box set, a ticket to see Madonna in concert - oh, hang on...
And with £50m, that's right £50m, in the bank coupled with my sparkling personality, I'd be beating off the tastier chicks with a shitty stick.
So, Madonna, if you're reading this and you find that you're looking for another fair-haired English chap with no discernible talent to speak of to add to your ex-husband collection, drop us a line.
You'd have to get used to her of course. I mean all that Kabbalah; being friends with Sting and his missus; adopting children; impregnating her; having to leave the pub because she's bored; having to see her naked (though this leaves very little to the imagination); being enthusiastic about her latest album/tour/film/kiddies' book must get wearing after a time. I could enthuse for England if I knew that there was a cheque for £50m at the end of it. Just think what you could buy: a whole Aston Martin, a season ticket for Forest (Hung Up is used as part of Forest's pre-match build-up music, they'd have to change that), a riverside apartment in Newark, the Genesis 1970-1975 box set, a ticket to see Madonna in concert - oh, hang on...
And with £50m, that's right £50m, in the bank coupled with my sparkling personality, I'd be beating off the tastier chicks with a shitty stick.
So, Madonna, if you're reading this and you find that you're looking for another fair-haired English chap with no discernible talent to speak of to add to your ex-husband collection, drop us a line.
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