Jumbo norked Kerry Katona is an enigma. Heralding from scrubber prole ‘girl band’ Atomic Kitten (in which, according to her, she didn’t sing a single note) - possibly the most physically repugnant grouping of ‘musical’ people since The Flying Pickets - Kerry went on to… well, I don’t know what. I do know she’s in possession of humongous mummy-cushions, that she’s not fussy about cock and is capable of being pregnant about four times at once. Katona also likes to take drugs and go on TV and she fucking loves a good hiding from her fella. Her latest squeeze looks like a shell-suited Artful Dodger without the top hat.
But somehow Kerry has managed to maintain some sort of career in the public eye. And here is the enigma. How, what, why? She’s clearly very talented at getting sperms all up her clout but what else? The answer is nothing whatsoever, save one. Iceland has concluded she’s an excellent vehicle for their showcase of comestible horrors. In this instance Kerry makes sense.
By mugging at the camera like a nightmare of a ventriloquist’s dummy coming to life but with larger hooters, she’s now associated with selling the cheapest possible frozen food to the lowest echelons of society. Now that it’s Christmas, Iceland have decided to throw in a giant hirsute Nolan sister to help Katona reach out to the families of illegal minicab drivers and ticket touts up and down the whole of Albion, mainly the north part. And Croydon.
Featuring tables and tables groaning with inedible foodstuffs that you’d turn down in favour of chewing off your own calf - 400 duck parcels for 8p, 1,600 mini hot dogs for tuppence, mini-jam pignuts, breaded-prawn diarrhea-skewers, chicken-vomit filo-warts, jitler-coated ambulance-diallers - Kerry manages to mug so gratuitously it’s a wonder her fucking skull doesn’t actually fall out of her mouth. Whilst Nolan maintains the aura of greedy dim-witted bear, Katona (clearly bonked out of her face on git-powder) literally zooms in and out of shot bearing an expression of such obsequious falsity and psychotic enthusiasm it’s only possible to be viewed through a mesh of trembling fingers whimpering in the corner of your sofa. I’ve no idea what she’s saying, nor do I wish to know in case it harms me.
That’s why mum, so ineffably useless her poor wee rugrats would do better off being raised by donkeys (and if it weren’t for Kerry’s gargantuan curd beanbags, I’d call the fucking police) goes to Iceland.
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62 Comments
If Iceland offered you a cool half mill to sell frozen scrapings from their factory floor on the telly, you’d suck their cock for the opportunity, you fucking slob.
Thats just what Kerry’s down and out pimp said to her before they gave her a ring
…Then he beat the shit out of her for a laugh
You slobby bastard SNOB.
I presume you meant ’snob’ from the outset…
Nevermind.
*whistles*
I didn’t actually. You’re a snob and a slob. And a twat, n’all.
Kerry’s worth ten of you, TEN.
Obviously this’ll open the floodgates, but I thoroughly enjoy Iceland’s peppered grillsteaks. Obviously, they ain’t Matthews standard (what is?), but they’re pretty nice with peas ‘n’ chips. And mushrooms.
They’d probably be even better served on one of Kerry’s gigantic mudder-budders.
I’ve not tried them, but I shall now. Peppered steaks, you say - if there’s one thing I like more than a steak, it’s a peppered steak. Deep frozen for safety and hygiene reasons, of course.
Even better if the steak has been expertly mashed up and reformed into steak shapes. And contains chicken.
Filled with a garlic butter sauce perhaps.
i never understand why they try and make it seem like that nolan sister is her mum and that other chap is her bloke, when they clearly call her colleen (or whichever one she is), thus shattering all pretense. so what *is* coleen (or whichever one she is) nolan and some random bloke doing round katona’s gaff, eating her posh prawns and chinese rolls? all very didge if you ask me…
Wishful thinking, I’m afraid. Unless those guardians of quality food at Iceland can take their expertise in the world of steak and fuse it with Matthews’ mastery of the kiev. A man can dream.
This post of Piqued’s is racist, by the way.
‘didge’
is that a subtle Jason Donovan reference, Badger?
i meant dodge… ooops.
PLUS coleen (or whichever one she is) exhibits clear anti-foreign qualities because she’d rather have ‘traditional’ (for traditional, see middle-england, mail on sunday) xmas food and not chinese rolls or polish chicken. or whatever.
bad coleen (or whichever one she is).
You boys really know your food don’t you
I mean whenever I go to an Argentinean steakhouse I always opt for a peppered steak (like you get in Ginsters pasties) I mean sod the cuts of Filet Mignon and Chateaubriand, fucking frozen stiff peppered one does me
and ALSO what is katona doing turning up to a fancy celebrity bash with donovan when they didn’t even star in i’m a celeb together? or are they having a secret affair behind random-bloke-who’s-not-katona’s-bloke’s back?
(can you tell i was going to blog about this but didn’t get round to it?)
Racist NC, prithee?
Glad you agree. Mind you, you should consider going to Iceland for your peppered steaks. They do four for £2. God alone knows what an Argentinian place would charge … and there’s no gaurantee your steak will be chopped and reformed, or frozen for that matter. Stick to Iceland, Piqued.
‘You boys really know your food don’t you’
I know I wouldn’t eat ‘breakfast-in-a-can’, no matter which middle-class arse-festival I was attending.
snob
Spelt ‘guarantee’ wrong there.
Anyway. Your post isn’t really racist in the correct sense of the word. It just feels racist. There’s a definite whiff of racism about it … even though there actually isn’t. You racist.
slob
I can’t believe you spelt ‘guarantee’ wrong, NP, you’re worse than Fred West
Breakfast in a can? Sounds horrible. ‘Specially when you consider what Iceland has on offer for breakfast. Frozen sausages, packs of bacon, loaves of bread, fresh mushrooms, peppered steaks, Bernard Matthews Turkey Twizzlers … why would you want breakfast in a can when you’ve a feast waiting for you in Iceland? And at such reasonable prices? God bless Kerry Katona.
I’m actually worse than Rose West. Even I draw the line at Fred’s level of barbarity. I’ll swim through blood before I build a fucking patio at four in the morning.
I know you’re worse than Rose, which is why I called you Fred?
No. I’m in that middle ground between Rose and Fred. Where the likes of Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, and that one who dressed up like a clown with loads of bones under his house are. That bit.
Obviously, I’ll never reach the dizzy heights of that Russian bastard they shot up in the back of his head, or Britain’s very own Herr Doktor Harold Shipmanship. Ivory tower-livin’, serial killin’ swine. There’s always a bigger fish.
Rose directed Fred’s actions, like a latterday Lady Macbeth on an exercise bike with a Razzle addiction. So who is worse? She wjo paid the piper, perhaps? Who is more the fool? The fool or the fool who follows the fool?
It’s me, isn’t it?
But is it really me?
Yes - ‘wjo’.
You know, thinking about these Iceland adverts, a thought has struck me: If they could drag Nigella away from that rotten rubbish she serves up to those Guardian readers on her show, and get her to advertise Iceland stuff, you’d have a MILF-off of epic proportions. Nigella shoving frozen sausages into her gob, Kerry’s drunken knockers flapping about all over the shop, whatever bloody Nolan that is running her wrinkly hands all over the peppered steaks. Christ Almighty. You’d explode. And imagine if they were invited to service Bernard Matthews one after another? Bernard with kievs bound to the side of his head?
No doubt you could give it the authentic feel of a proper German bluey by installing Ramsay on a 70s sofa in the background, tugging away whilst shouting fevered abuse.
It wouldn’t be authentic German filth unless someone goes tinkle for no reason
How about Gary Rhodes in Rachel Allens mouth?
I’d eat nothing but Iceland food for the rest of my life if they did this. Throw Joan Collins into the mix and that life wouldn’t be very long - I’d wank m’self to death.
That’d be terrible, you’d come back as a jizz-spattered spectre.
Is Joan still alive? Wouldn’t really matter anyway to be honest
Rhodes loves a good piss. I imagine.
Rachael Allen is always going on about things ‘dat letteratly melcht en der mouwt’
A steaming hot jet of Rhodes would
Joan’s alive and raring to go, as far as I’m aware. Have you seen ‘The Bitch’? She’s a fucking bitch in that film, is Joan. Still, I’d do ‘er. And she must be pushing Thora Hird age by now. Tits aren’t quite as magnificent as Thora’s were at the end, mind. Like ancient zeppelins heading gracefully back to earth as the hydrogen slowly leaks out the top.
I have seen The Bitch yes. I recall she dresses like a right bloody harridan in it, prancing bout in her pants and suchlike
Rachael Allen - is she the lady off of Saturday morning telly? I always fall asleep when her monotone rubbish comes on. Cover her in Rhode’s-water and it might jazz things up a bit.
I think it’s that one where she’s on a swing over a pool with her spaniel’s ears flabbing about. Unless that’s ‘The Stud’ or ‘The Slut’ or whatever it was called.
Who’s Rachael Allen?
http://www.rachelallen.co.uk/
she has TV show after saturday kitchen on BBC1 at lunchtime
Saturday kitchen? Is that where you learnt to ruin sausages with broccolli? Do they cook proper food on that show?
Speaking of Saturday Kitchen - what about that asian chef they keep inviting on the ITV version with Anthony Thompson, who keeps trying his damndest to get inside her pantalons?
Hot damn, she a little firecracker, and no mistaking.
Does she have tits down to her knees and a hairy top lip?
NC, no, Piqued’s classic ‘gourmet sausage and luxury broc ‘n sauce indulgence’ is a dish that only those TV chefs can dream of.
Yes SH, I’ve seen her, I couldn’t care if she couldn’t boil water either.
http://www.chinghe.com/da/62654
Ker-Ching!
Hmmm. She could do with being maybe fifty years older. Wearing a raincoat.
I am not sure what you are implying with Argentinean beef. It is very, very good and is my choice. Really!
Though I would agree with the general sentiment regarding Icelands own brands, they are rather good pricewise for baked beans, teabags, chocolate biscuits all “name ” brands. 4 tins of baked beans for a pound!
As for Kerry, I did see her in a program (reality tv) where she was to attend if i remember correctly an Austrian aristocratic occasion. I thought she was quite sweet in that.
Mikey and Kerry Katona, up a tree…
Nope, doesn’t scan.
Mikey’s wrong about Argentina, but right about Iceland. The best place to get steak is in the freezer cabinet at Iceland - not in a restaurant run by one of the UK’s most insidious enemies.
Kerry was also on that revolting ‘Loose Women’ show. She was one of the regular coven of gossiping fishwives who should, if there’d been any bloody justice in this world, have all been subjected to the ducking stool.
Mikey, read the Argentinean beef comment again. It really is very simple
I buy my Argentinean meat in the supermarket. Restaurants are always pricey in UK and the Argentinean restaurants no different.
Anyway this is not about Argentina, it is about Iceland and Kerry.
Iceland Ok for dry goods. Kerry and I not up a tree, but in this the beginning of the festive season i would give her a peck under the mistletoe!
Probably would prefer a Christmas cuddle with Kerry rather than this websites favorite female “express” chef!
Easy Mikey, Piqued and Napoleon might favour the retro rapido weeble, but my chef of choice is Ching Huang, goddamit.
Kerry couldn’t hold a candle to Nigella, Mikey. Nigella would wipe her arse with the likes of Katona or whatever that Nolan is … cor, that’s a bloody thought.
I’m afraid, Mikey, I’m forced to agree with NC… putting aside any other aspects of the Katona/Lawson debate, you could fit both of Kerry’s fuck udders into one of Nigella’s giant teat churns, and on the strength of that alone, Nigella wins norks down
Obviously I’d never be as crass as Piqued, but I’d agree with him that both of Kerry’s not insubstantial baby feeders would snugly fit inside one of the magnificent Nigella’s bingo dabbers with room to squeeze the arse of that Nolan in there too. Imagine, if you will, what an exotic cocktail of conflicting flavours THAT combination would produce from the teat of Her MILFesty.
Mmm NC, you seem to be bordering on the tit equivalent of a multibird roast
http://shop.rivercottage.net/recipes/recipe.jsp?ref=recipes.200512062531
Dear Watch With Mothers
Is there anywhere on the internet I can find footage of Katie Melua being torn apart by lions? Other forms of porn just aren’t cutting the mustard for me any more.
Yours,
Benny (age 32)
Great post! Couldn’t agree more! And if, like me, you’ve had it up to here with the EEC barking orders at you about what you can and cannot do to our nearest and dearest’s private parts, then join the thunderous clamour for justice at http://thebloodyeec.blogspot.com/ - the internet’s no.1 site when it comes to keeping an eye on the Belgians and their axis of Britain-hating Euro wallah friends. The first blast of the trumpet against the monstrous regiment of busybodies has sounded, ladies and gentlemen! Let battle commence!