Georgina Littlejohn: Journo Extraordinaire by shoutingatco.ws
It must be tough to get a reporting job at the Daily Mail. You’d have to study as a serious journalist for years, while simultaneously learning to cope with the old racist idiots that’ll read your words. Honestly, while we take the piss out of the Mail for being, let’s say, a little bit right wing and a little bit out of touch with reality, it must be a great line on anyone’s CV to have worked for a national newspaper.
Especially now, with the recession and job cuts and all that carry on, journos are being made redundant all over the bloody shop. So to even get your foot in the door for an interview must be next to impossible.
So we can only assume that this journalist’s CV is impeccable. Y’know, at the level of uncovering Watergate or getting Blair to tell them to fuck off, on camera.
Step forward Georgina Littlejohn.
Crotchspawn of King of the Bigots himself, Richard. Yup, somehow she’s worked her way up through the ranks at the Mail, with absolutely no question that he had a hand in it. The Mail would be a poorer place without her.
With articles like this, it’s hard to see what they’d do without her:
Amy Winehouse! You know, the druggie one!
The singer showed signs of overindulgence as she – quite literally – hung out by her hotel pool in Rio de Janeiro yesterday, her pot belly sticking out over her denim shorts.
Quite literally! Because she’s fat! Despite actually looking malnourished!
Make-up free Lucy Davis looks tired and fed up as she flies back home to Los Angeles after Christmas in London
Boo, hiss, Davis. How dare you not wear make up on an 11 hour flight? You’ve been on TV, so you have a fucking duty. You’ve let yourself down, you’ve let your fans down, and you’ve let Georgina down.
Jesus, these headlines are massive. Honestly, this article references her “impressive bottom”. It’s like that bit from Father bloody Ted. Only she’s serious.
Can you imagine a world without stories about Matt Le Blanc being older than he used to be? Or Victoria Beckham not showing her face? Or Amanda Holden not wearing make-up? Or Amy Winehouse’s bruise? Or Kate Moss being older than she used to be?
Here’s one that’s tasteless and difficult to comprehend!
Princess Beatrice and Zoe Salmon arrive at Help For Haiti fundraiser in matching outfits
It’s always embarrassing turning up to an event wearing the same dress as someone else.
Princess Beatrice and former Blue Peter presenter Zoe Salmon faced that dilemma at a Haiti fundraiser last night, but thankfully they had opted for different colours.
Her Royal Highness – in black – and the Northern Ireland-born TV host, who was a vision in hot pink, both attended the Help For Haiti fundraiser at London restaurant Circus last night.
They. Look. Completely. Fucking. Different.
And also, it’s a fundraiser for sodding charity.
To prove that she’s not just about bullying celebrities and giggling at bottoms, Littlejohn even branches out into film reviews. Go and read it (but not at work, there’s pictures of boobies and things.) It’s like something out of Zoo Magazine. All it’s missing is a “phwoar” and an arm-pumping gesture.
She’s also an expert on the nipples of a 17 year old.
So well done Georgina, truly a pioneer of journalism. We salute you.
On the other hand, at least she’s only pretending to be a slebrity journalist, and not a political one, like daddy. Richard genuinely asked the other day:
In what way was he obstructing the police, other than preventing them nicking people?
Yeah, Richard. In what was was he murdering people, other than smashing them over the head with a fucking pickaxe? Which, incidentally, is the best way to get your intelligence down to a level to appreciate the Littlejohns.
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Excellent post. I have always enjoyed the depths to which this little hackette eagerly plunges.
What you forgot to mention is her appalling grasp of the English language. I can spot one of her articles a mile away.
“The singer got annoyed by the woman’s presence and looked upset as she walked up to her and got into a heated conversation before the woman stopped filming and walked away.”
…
“Although it could have been her fantastic metallic, multi-tone corset-style dress taking the inches off, which she accessorised with a clutch bag and Mary Jane shoes.”
Yes, the Littlecock dynasty looks like ensuring that the gutter press will forever remain in the gutter. Also, as an aside…is it just me or would those two lassies pictured above look less out of place at Crufts? I know beauty’s in the eye of the beholder and all that but FFS….
Jan Moir, Georgina Littlejohn and Liz Jones all writing for the Mail’s lifestyle department.
I don’t think that’s what Emily Pankhurst had in mind.
Coming from an American nation that plagues itself with useless news of famous idiots I can understand your argument. My question is, do you truly believe you can judge a journalist on what subject matter they chose to write about? What if I were to judge a McDonald’s employee for what position they hold on the line? Oh hey mate, you put the cheese on the meat patties? go fuck yourself. No, that’s not the way it works. You can’t blame a journalist for writing about something people read, you blame the reader, or a society that finds it necessary to be anorexic and 30 pounds under weight to be accepted by the people of our modern day fucked up world. Blame the actors and entertainers that make our children and teenagers believe they have to wear high end clothing to be something in this world. Blame the publicist telling the talent the only way to make it in the industry is to eat lettuce and wear a dress made of meat. As I said earlier, I understand where you are coming from, but its about time to start looking at the wolf and stop blaming the sheep.
Don Dula makes a point. It’d be a good one too, if I hadn’t spent two years reading the Metro on the way to work and swinging, pendulum-like, between thinking Ms Littlejohn was either the single most retarded, incompetent journalist in the history of the written word, or else some kind of stooge in the pay of the major (paid for) newspapers, single-handedly forcing anyone with half a brain to stump up a quid to buy a paper with, y’know, sentences, that made like, sense and stuff.
Jesus, the Metro used to let her write about anything. Sport, Technology, Current Affairs. Fuck. Spelling, grammar, syntax: it was all there to be stretched and manipulated until it read like some reactionary rightwing pisshead had dictated it at four in the morning down a walkie-talkie to a half-deaf halfwit with only the most rudimentary grasp of the English language. Seriously. I have a genuine dislike for this woman. The simple fact that she couldn’t, say, become a tv presenter or something just stinks of an incredible lack of imagination.
I spose it’s not her fault though, really. I blame the parents.