Punch a Z-Lister Today (Part Three)
It occurred to me the other day that perhaps I was wrong about the reason for Nick Knowles' appearance on my street the other week. Perhaps he wasn't the buyer of one those houses on my terrace, maybe he was looking for me. Is it possible that he'd read what I'd written about him in Going Ape? Could he have followed the example of the heroes of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and obtained the IP addresses of everyone who has ever insulted him online? If so, what frightened him off? Could it be that, seeing me in the flesh, he realised that there was no way he could take a finely tuned fighting slob like myself? Actually, that seems unlikely, as he wouldn't know what I look like, I've ensured that there are no photos of me online. Alain Delon stands in for me usually. Come to think of it, I did hear somewhere that someone had tried to give him a kicking in Paris the other day...
Getting back to Fucking Nick Knowles (not many people realise that's his full name), he could, of course, have been responding to a DIY SOS on my street. Although, if this was the case, I would have expected to see TV cameras, lights, vans and the rest of the DIY SOS team. Then again, maybe when the series isn't on, he just wanders the streets of Britain at random, knocking on doors and offering to put up shelves. Indeed, the weekend after my Knowles sighting there was a lot of banging and thumping coming from next door. Could he have forced his way in and proceeded to knock holes in their walls and take up the floor boards, whilst they fought to throw him out? Then again, my neighbours might just have been having sex in a wardrobe. That sort of thing happens quite a lot, so I'm told. Furniture fetishism is big business, just put 'Welsh dresser' and 'sex' into Google and you'll find yourself faced with several pictures of naked blokes whacking off into the drawers of their kitchen fittings. But I've digressed again. Whatever was going on, the fact remains that there have been no further sightings of Knowles, thank God.
Getting back to Fucking Nick Knowles (not many people realise that's his full name), he could, of course, have been responding to a DIY SOS on my street. Although, if this was the case, I would have expected to see TV cameras, lights, vans and the rest of the DIY SOS team. Then again, maybe when the series isn't on, he just wanders the streets of Britain at random, knocking on doors and offering to put up shelves. Indeed, the weekend after my Knowles sighting there was a lot of banging and thumping coming from next door. Could he have forced his way in and proceeded to knock holes in their walls and take up the floor boards, whilst they fought to throw him out? Then again, my neighbours might just have been having sex in a wardrobe. That sort of thing happens quite a lot, so I'm told. Furniture fetishism is big business, just put 'Welsh dresser' and 'sex' into Google and you'll find yourself faced with several pictures of naked blokes whacking off into the drawers of their kitchen fittings. But I've digressed again. Whatever was going on, the fact remains that there have been no further sightings of Knowles, thank God.
Labels: Celebrity Cretins
posted by Doc Sleaze at
8:28 pm
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