Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Two of Three

Now. I was trying ignore Natasha Bedingfield. I'm sure you're all aware of my feelings on her dopey brother, the over-stuffed love-mattress for sexually starved housewives across the country. A mite suspicious then, that as soon as Daniel is, um, 'taken out of action' in a car crash, another one pops up.

Like dandelions. Or warts.

For your information, I can indeed account for my whereabouts when Daniel smashed his neck in. I happened to have been at a party. A fabulous party. And it was a pure coincidence that there was a storey-high picture at the back of the shindig of someone's scrappy bearded mug, and the legend 'Daniel Bedingfield 1979-2004' beneath it. Or that the coasters had ' Gotta Get Thru This' on them.

Anyway. As I say, I was trying to ignore his stripling sister, but as my hunt through the video channels for Girls Aloud's 'The Show' is becoming almost a 24-hour quest, I can't help but find her thwarting my every turn with her annoyingly infectious blandity. Every other flick, and I come across her.

Oh, man alive - that sounds terrible.

And if my theory that the charts of the new millennium can only survive with a Bedingfield at their core, I know for a fact that if I get rid of Natasha Bedingfield, the only one left is their octogenarian gran who has a liking for drum and base. One simply has to lard the top step of her nursing home and set off the fire alarm. A squawk, a crunch, and a blissful empty silence in which to enjoy The Show.

I'm doing you all a favour, you know.

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