Saturday, 14 June 2008

Nouvelle Star - c'est fini



I have been very remiss about updating you on Le Grand Final. Not that I feel you need to know about the ins and outs of Amandine vs Benjamin. They were both disappointingly competent. Amandine won. I approved because apparently Benjamin has already started proceedings against Voici magazine for invading his private life (a French sleb rite of passage), which I felt was a little presumptous. The upstart!



But. Andre. Gave us this gem to Amandine:



"You remind me of a Romanian folk legend about a goddess who turns the milky way into cheese and then divided it into four parts"


Ah, André. I will really really really miss you. I will have to watch more 'TV Brussels' to find a similar level of surreality and erudite nonsense.



Sinclair, you are a short arse but an attractive one. However on Wednesday you were wearing so much foundation that I was repeatedly distracted by the idea of scratching it off gently with my fingernails in a semi-erotic fashion. Also, the footwear (big fat white spongy hi-tops)? No. You are 37, not 12.


I wonder if Cedric is back on his boat yet. I suspect not. For his semi-final elimination, he had at least acquired one of the trappings of micro-celebrity in the form of a vacant blonde WAG style girlfriend. Six months or so of appearances in the party pages of Public and Voici seem inevitable before he sinks into alcoholism and depression, and then, finally, inevitably, turns back to the welcoming embrace of the sea. Surely?

5 comments:

Mya said...

Nevermind.

Did you ever watch that cringeworthy TV programme on Sunday lunchtimes - a kind of talent show with a really creepy presenter/svengali/probable arse-groper, who, incidentally, has died recently.I'm guessing they won't be having another series. I used to watch it for the accordion players and their unnaturally fixed grins. And the ballroom dancers. Oh, and the ancient grannies and grandpas they used to wheel out, who clearly (unbelievably) had some kind of a career still going in musical variety - perhaps in Maisons de Retraite. Unfortunately, can't remember the name of the show.

Mya x

Jaywalker said...

Hey Mya
I do remember it, from Sunday lunches with the CFO's granny. So many flammable fabrics in a confined space! Was it not La Chance aux Chansons? Am going to check with the CFO and revert on name. My personal room 101 is those things with Patrick Sebastien on Saturday nights on France 2 where he gets to wear false breasts and everyone sings rugby songs and cross dresses and there are accordeons. Even a nanosecond is enough to give me nightmares.

I have just double checked with the CFO (he was in the shower at the time, but these things are too important to wait). Yes, la Chance aux Chansons. Pascal Sevran.

Mya said...

That is he! Thank you.

Patrick Sebastien...don't get me started on HIM. Oh my word. Even Spouse won't watch it...despite the dead certs of bare breasts and trapeze swinging contortionists. My personal pet hates (I'll only allow myself this one, or I'll be here all day) - are Shirley and Dino, regulars on P Sebastien. I'd really like to think I'm missing the point - but, sadly, I don't think there is one.

Mya x

Jaywalker said...

The only point is heinous medieval punishment for being in on a Saturday night. Like you didn't feel like a loser enough already.

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