Apparently, the poor pudding claims to suffer recurring dreams about bread. What’s that, Sigmund? A deep seated anxiety that those bedazzled by her inestimable talents will one day think ‘what the Dickens?’ and stop chucking dough at the infant phenomenon? Could she still count on ‘tight a***, Irish potato famine miser’ Sir Daddy to finance any mammoth hotel bill not written off for a mention in her magnificent media outpourings? Milk it while you can, missy, reprising your gig as pants model for Michelle Mone who regards you as epitomising Miss Ultimo; i.e. ‘everything a young woman should be.’ Well, who wouldn’t want their tackily tattooed teen bride/divorcée daughter to star in a drugs deal video or come across - as in a recent cringeworthy Fearne Cotton-wooly interview - as a precocious vacuum who - were her folks not famous - might be hard pushed to get a gig demonstrating Hoovers? Stylish? Sure! If junior Scientologist (was Kabbalah, ‘like’, too last year?) got up as something even the cat wouldn’t drag in floats your boat. if there's a less worthwhile 'celeb' clogging up our mags, I'm yet to discover them. What is the point of the Geldof brat? Somebody, can Peaches! Pretty, please?
Image: ' Sliced Peaches' (the author does not condone knife crime!) webrestaurantstore.com
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