The food of the devil

Having volunteered at a substance abuse charity before (and having lived in Teesside for all my life), I am well aware of the savage effects of drug and alcohol addiction on people. Often, it's a curiosity that turns into a habit, before snowballing out of control. 

So you can imagine my concern when I saw this article on the 'sidebar of shame' on the Daily Fail website:

NOOO DON'T DO IT HARRY!

Asparagus!! It's evil, man! The devil's food! You'll get sucked in and never come out the other side, Harry! 

No-one should ever feel so desperate that they should resort to asparagus, of all things. The amount of times I've seen someone drowning in a sea of despair whilst gripped on asparagus addiction... I cannot tell you. And all because they feel self-conscious and lack the confidence to accept their thinning manes. The more hair they lose in the shower, the more they cry whilst diving into the asparagus section in Asda... It's a vicious circle.

Since everyone seems to be into these open letter things nowadays, I have a short one for Harry:

Dear Your Royal Highness (or may I call you Hazza?), 

I know you may feel frustrated right now, it must be hard to accept that the red hair that made you the most endearing young Royal may be no more, but please do not resort to asparagus. You may want to take matters into your own hands but you don't have to go this far!

We all adore you as you are - we loved that you got little Harry out during a wild drinking game, we loved that you openly tried to pull the bridesmaid at your brother's wedding in front of a worldwide audience, we love that you dressed up as a Nazi for a somewhat misjudged fancy dress party.

All in all, despite the mistakes, you seem like good fun and a great night out pal! So don't stoop as low as asparagus - it'll only sap any likeable quality out of you, and we can't have you hanging about in a grotty asparagus den with the likes of Pete Doherty (it's what got him into crack, y'know). 

Plus, you're probably better off sticking to weed.

Yours sincerely,

Mrs SHOTP x

The bi-annual flood blame game

It's the question on everybody's lips, if it isn't the fault of homosexuals, then who is to blame for the floods??

Is it God?
No, because the guy probably doesn't exist. Even if he did, he's probably got better things to think about. Like completing Angry Birds.

How about Eric Pickles?
He wasn't exactly known for being into rain dances, or indeed any dancing at all, so no.

What about immigrants/foreigners?
No, the Daily Mail fucking wish they did though. Otherwise their sorry paper wouldn't exist.

Are you sure it isn't the gays?
I obviously must've missed the bit where Stephen Fry, Graham Norton, Alan Carr, Louis Spence, and Clare Balding all joined forces to create an unfavourable weather front.

After much pondering, I think I have the answer. I know what is to blame for flooding.

RAIN.

Louboutins - more important than staying alive.

The cheapest pair of Louboutins are £400, and there are only 52 weeks in a year. Therefore it'll take you about 7-8 years to save up for a pair, and that isn't including the inflation that'll inevitably happen. 

It's much quicker to steal them, Rosie.

How to get your own haunted photos

As it's Halloween, it's only right that we have a spooky-themed article to frighten us to buggery.

Hanging around in graveyards is just soooo 90's now, you have to get in on the action, as these brave heroes did:

If you're unable to purchase your own haunted B&B, there's another way you can authentically make your house haunted for the purpose of selling pics to the press. Here are my top tips:

1. Smudge your camera lens with your non-clean fingers.

2. Snap away.

3. Sell your ghostly snaps to The Sun, or any other newspaper that is gullible. Bask in the glory of your massively interesting life.

32 pages of rainforest, put into bloody good use

Step 1) Heat the fruit with an equal weight of sugar in a saucepan for ages, until jam-like.

Step 2) Pour into a jam jar.

PAGE 3 - LOOKING A BIT WOOF

When you think of page 3 in newspapers, you automatically associate it with topless models. Carli, 21, from Romford will usually give her opinion on a light hearted subject she is absolutely qualified to discuss, such as which taxation methods the Greeks should use to avoid further economic ruin. Then she follows it up with a quote from Dante's Inferno or similar.

Even if you're not reading the faux-feminist fodder of The Sun or The Star (liberating women's bodies for the eyes of sex-hungry men with single braincells? One of Germaine Greer's less celebrated theories), 'family friendly' tabloids such as The Mirror or The Daily Fail usually possess a shot of a famous lady clothed, but only barely so, and sometimes doing silly things while on holiday. For example; Rihanna in a bikini, using the space where Chris Brown's brain should be as a hash pipe/bong. That sort of thing.

Imagine my surprise when Mr SHOTP brought home a copy of The Metro; so how have they dealt with the page 3 issue?:

It's only a freaking dog balancing shit on its head!!

Look, he can do a can of Pringles! A whole plate!! A frigging glass of water!!! TWO BLOODY ORANGES!!

I hear you sceptics mumbling: "As if people are impressed with this shit nowadays... next thing we'll know, a bloody dog will end up winning Britain's Got Talent! Ridic... OH. FUCK."