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| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
Don't Cry for Me, Argentina - 24 October 2008
Guy is in tears over his son dressed in a T-shirt referencing Madonna’s lover, A-Rod. (Does Guy
want one as well?)
Madonna is in uncontrollable tears over the failure of her marriage. (After not speaking to each
other for the last 18-24 months?)
Guy doesn’t want a single pound: he has his own wealth. (Is that from his parents?)
Madonna is seeking Kabbalah anger management to deal with her rage over Guy’s incredible
demands for part of her vast fortune. (No share and share alike?)
Guy was cold and controlling and critical. (The three Cs? Or is there a fourth?)
Madonna was cold and controlling and critical. (The three Cs? Or is there a fourth?)
Guy’s team: his parents
Madonna’s team: Gwyneth (Has this mother of 2, wife of ? seen a red carpet, a camera, a
microphone, a pair of 7” stilettos she doesn’t like?)
Time to pick your side for the great divide. Do you want to fantasize about your new best friends
Vinnie Jones, Brad Pitt - or Stella McCartney, Rupert Everett and “I’m standing by my friend,
Madonna, ‘til I die” Gwyneth?
My head is spinning from the hysteria of this PR-led battle. I am now willing to give up my own
cult, steamed fish and seasonal veggies prepared by dwarfs, all forms of exercise and the
obligatory fit and sweaty personal trainers, scheduled sex between push ups, expensive pots of
anti-ageing creams made by Tibetan Kabbalah virgins, writhing in an overt sexual manner in
revealing pants with male specimens young enough to be my grandsons, plastic body suits
keeping any wobbly bits from exposure, red thread - and taking up - twenty-four hour television
featuring crap American shows, taping all of Mr Madge’s homage films to the Eastend, drink
several pints for breakfast because I can, allow sunlight in regardless of my vampire tendencies
and air-conditioning/heat despite my irrational fear of wrinkles, take notice of my children
particularly the ones I’ve adopted 20 minutes earlier.
Guy has ‘a lot on Madonna’ and Mrs Richie is considering paying for his silence. No. No. We
want to know and things are getting messy enough that we may. Oh. Perhaps the other ‘C’ word
is calculating…perhaps not. Clearly they deserve each other.
Guy is in tears over his son dressed in a T-shirt referencing Madonna’s lover, A-Rod. (Does Guy
want one as well?)
Madonna is in uncontrollable tears over the failure of her marriage. (After not speaking to each
other for the last 18-24 months?)
Guy doesn’t want a single pound: he has his own wealth. (Is that from his parents?)
Madonna is seeking Kabbalah anger management to deal with her rage over Guy’s incredible
demands for part of her vast fortune. (No share and share alike?)
Guy was cold and controlling and critical. (The three Cs? Or is there a fourth?)
Madonna was cold and controlling and critical. (The three Cs? Or is there a fourth?)
Guy’s team: his parents
Madonna’s team: Gwyneth (Has this mother of 2, wife of ? seen a red carpet, a camera, a
microphone, a pair of 7” stilettos she doesn’t like?)
Time to pick your side for the great divide. Do you want to fantasize about your new best friends
Vinnie Jones, Brad Pitt - or Stella McCartney, Rupert Everett and “I’m standing by my friend,
Madonna, ‘til I die” Gwyneth?
My head is spinning from the hysteria of this PR-led battle. I am now willing to give up my own
cult, steamed fish and seasonal veggies prepared by dwarfs, all forms of exercise and the
obligatory fit and sweaty personal trainers, scheduled sex between push ups, expensive pots of
anti-ageing creams made by Tibetan Kabbalah virgins, writhing in an overt sexual manner in
revealing pants with male specimens young enough to be my grandsons, plastic body suits
keeping any wobbly bits from exposure, red thread - and taking up - twenty-four hour television
featuring crap American shows, taping all of Mr Madge’s homage films to the Eastend, drink
several pints for breakfast because I can, allow sunlight in regardless of my vampire tendencies
and air-conditioning/heat despite my irrational fear of wrinkles, take notice of my children
particularly the ones I’ve adopted 20 minutes earlier.
Guy has ‘a lot on Madonna’ and Mrs Richie is considering paying for his silence. No. No. We
want to know and things are getting messy enough that we may. Oh. Perhaps the other ‘C’ word
is calculating…perhaps not. Clearly they deserve each other.
