Apart from postal strikes (The Word is now two weeks late), one thing guaranteed to make my blood boil is the woman formerly known as Jordan.
In order to get the press spotlight back on herself she's revealed she was raped, apparently by a celebrity. Is there nothing this woman won't do to gain attention? This ghastly piece of vitriol wrapped in plastic can't stand it that estranged husband Peter Andre is getting not only the sympathy but all the good press. For a woman who spills her guts every time someone opens a fridge door anywhere in the world, this won't do at all.
So despite there not being anything that could be dredged up from her past that we don't know about, she's revealed this innermost secret, surely something most women would not want broadcast. But not her, she'll stop at nothing. It's all over the papers today of course, and she'll be sitting at home basking in the glory. Any sympathy evaporated long ago, not only from me but from the public at large. I may sound harsh. Rape is a terrible thing, but with Jordan it's merely another weapon in her armoury in the war for publicity.
We know about her other rapes, her miscarriages, her sexual shenanigans and the colour of her horsebox. Nothing is off limits, though she doesn't want to talk about it. Oh alright then, if it means she's back in the tabloids. I once almost thought she was okay, a canny businesswoman and good mother who built up the Jordan brand, milked it for all it was worth while she could and made a load of cash out of it. That she did, but she's revealed herself to be an absolute monster. I bet Peter couldn't get out fast enough. Now she's dragging round that doltish porn star. If he doesn't have a brain (which is likely), then that's probably okay with her.
She's ghastly, shallow, fake, graceless, hard-nosed and mean, and a bad mother. Don't be fooled.
