One woman's week, with Karen Fenessey
I was disgusted by Cher Lloyd’s denunciation of her pop mentor, Cheryl Cole this week. I have always been the world’s greatest champion of younger women and, like Cheryl, have also suffered the inevitable betrayal.
Without wanting to name and shame my protege, let’s just say she’s ginger and appears on Eastenders (for the sake of argument, we’ll call her ‘Spatsy’). I had such big plans for her but instead of being a real woman, Spatsy ran off to have a string of babies and marry the father. She held a christening to which I wasn’t invited. In my rage, I showed up unexpectedly in a dazzling black and purple cloak, hexed the crib and then did my throaty laugh until everyone had gone home.
Under my tactical tutelage, it would have been Spatsy who lovingly carried Kate’s train up the aisle last summer, instead of some Avon lady off the street. But my efforts were thrown back in my face and frankly the whole event was shambolic.
I’m in awe of countries like Africa, who have a policy of not wasting education on buffoons like Spatsy and Cher. This is strategic planning of the kind that our own government woefully lacks – they insist on throwing literacy and numeracy at any old pondlife that wanders into a primary school. It’s a waste of my tax, your tax and Cheryl’s tax. Teaching Spatsy to read was about as useful as these D&G leatherette bed socks I bought last month for my close friend, Whitney.
Cheryl hit the nail right on the head when she tweeted “Be careful who you kick on the way up, they kick you twice as hard on your way back down”. She truly has a way with words and I commend the former Girl Aloud for dreaming up this particularly menacing threat . Physical violence would be totally justified given Cher’s recent allusion to Cheryl’s use of autotune when performing live and we can only hope the teenager is now living in constant fear for her safety.
Bullies like Cher Lloyd should always be kicked. I was so inspired after reading Cheryl’s tweet, I ran down to Albert Square and launched myself at Spatsy, only desisting after my Louboutin heel snapped off in her chin strap. I have never felt so alive.
So go on, girls, kick an eighteen year old today. Because you’re worth it.