Beyonce. When I say her name (say her name) I get a spike in traffic



I would like to thank all of you, friends, commenters and other remorseless sluts for your contributions to my blog post, my story and, subsequently, my paycheck. I am truly grateful for the outpouring of immoral ideas that have come from my last post in which I asked the question: When do you think it is okay to betray the trust of your loved ones?

A lot of responses indicated that the drop of a hat was sufficient reason.

You have given me more than I could have asked for. I am going to write my article and drown in praise and admiration. I might be the next up for a prestigious journalism award like the ones Shifa Mwesigye of the Observer bes nominated for .

And I will remember to mention you in my speech. After making it seem like I really did do all the work, of course.

The ceremony is going to be awesome. Hugh Jackman and Beyonce will be there. 

Beyonce will say, “Ah take great pleasure in announcing this nex’ award. Cos this journalis’ righ’ here? He make meh wanna shoop, baby, you knowwham’sayin’? Sho’ nuff! I read that there ar’cle he wrote and ooh, baby chile, I just couln’t help mahself. I just lawst it! You hear me grrrrls? Canna git an ameeean?”

Then Hugh Jackman will nudge her, eyes full of nuggu, and say, “Git ta da award, ya bonkers Sheila! Roit!”

(“Roit” is how Australians say “Right”. Except Detamble. She speaks English.)

So Beyonce will recover her composure and straighten her dress. It’s the one she wore in that other video. You know the one, yeah? 

“Ah’m sawry. Ah do nat know wha’ came over me. I musta bin trippin’. Ah do declare.”

And then because we are tired of her wasting our time swooning over me, she will hand me the award for kickass newspaper articles and leave.

Now, if you want to know, if you care about my opinion on what is cheating and what isn’t, there you go: I am so sprung on one woman that even when I fantasise about Beyonce, she just hands me a journalism award and then leaves the room.


No thank you, Jezebel
No thank you, Jezebel




No, thank you, you Jezebel.





    Please don’t do this to me, Baz. PWEEEEEEZE!

    She’s the only thing I’m left with.

  2. I cant comment now because you started a tpain song in my head, and that is so wrong, in so many ways. But now I have to let it play.
    and I emailed that 25 crap btw.

  3. Nothing new here always have been a remorseless slut but even then i hope wolverines’ claws find their way to your pulmonary artery at the ceremony.

  4. Baz admits sprung-ness, not for the first time, I better start paying particular attention to the Saturday Vision weddings pix pages, and Record TV Abagole….

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