12 May, 2008

Party On

With the curtain finally falling on yet another Premier League season, it is well and truly party time for those hard-working players who must now suffer through ten weeks of holiday trying as hard as possible to spend their millions. Unburdened by the inconvenience of a summer international tournament, England’s nearly-men wanted to set the tone of the coming months early, and hit newest London hot-spot Movida last night for champagne-covered merriment and presumably their first kebab since August 2007. Now Movida is, like, so the new Chinawhite don’t you know, but located just behind Oxford Circus tube, isn’t quite secluded enough to keep out all the riff-raff. A quick google search of a London nightlife guide brought this comment: “(it) is not the place to relax, it is a place for nouveau rich, for people no class and bad attitude.” So it’s basically perfect then.

Anyway, of course all the coolest cats were down there, with STT favourite Jermain Defoe leading the pride and copping off with some absolute hound that presumably just agreed to whatever niche role-play Jermain was in the mood for this week. According to onlookers their eyes met across an empty dancefloor, and as the strains of R. Kelly’s definitely-not-paedophilic anthem Trapped in the Closet oozed out of the speakers, she went weak at the knees. In a downward spiral that has seen him go from Charlotte Mears to Danielle Lloyd, and then way down to Sarah Giggle, Defoe seems incapable of attracting anything but ropey mouth-breathers these days. Still, one imagines the routine back at his tastefully decorated bachelor pad was the same as usual; nose-bleedingly fast garage on the stereo, all the mirrors in the house set up around the bed, couple of bottles of Lambrini, and then just as she’s starting to convulse from the cheap booze and bpm of the music, he strips down to just a leopard-skin vest and jumps her bones while panting like an over-excited puppy.

Elsewhere in Movida, Jermaine Jenas had apparently just finished shooting a Wham! reunion video, sharply dressed in a jacket that 1980s tennis players would be embarrassed by, and topped with the standard sunglasses-at-night look which only really works if you’re Johnny Depp or have had your eyeballs carved out by Triads. Anton Ferdinand was also up in effect at Movida, looking almost as handsome as his brother for once; don’t tell Rio I said that though, he prides himself on being the hottest Ferdinand. Anton reportedly spent the whole night staring at girls’ cans until they left the club out of fear, and telling anyone who’d listen that he could’ve been a superstar DJ, but was begged by the football gods to not waste his prodigious gift.

The real highlight of the evening though was the appearance of a certain ex-Big Brother contestant with a mouth like a waste disposal unit, Charley something-or-other. She’s the cousin of Kieran Richardson (that’s pedigree for you) and shot to fame last year for simply being the most irritating and objectionable excuse for a woman that most of us on this fine isle have ever had to endure. How do these girls actually find out where the footballers will be on any given night? Is there a bat-symbol or something that goes up over London that only kiss-and-tell sluts can see? Having failed to make a sex-tape with a footballer to kick-start an ‘acting’ or ‘modeling’ career for herself though, it seems Charley has just resorted to prostitution, hanging about outside Movida with her skirt up in the hope that someone famous might get drunk enough to fall in her. At least she’s realized her natural position in life, but come on love, have a little shame. STT is considering broadening its horizons over the summer to get into pimping, so if you’re reading Charley (unlikely I know) and want to be our first official ‘ho,’ drop us a line at the usual address and we’ll talk about a business plan. You’ll get a nice basement to sleep in, plenty of pretty new clothes and enough meth to sink Britney Spears.

UPDATE - Thanks to the wonderful hombres at The Spoiler for not kicking our teeth in after robbing their pics.

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