Hugh's Sorry Now

It's such a shame! Bean-flinging dandy Hugh Grant just hasn't met the right woman yet. The floppy-haired wooden twat is bemoaning the fact that he hasn't yet managed to settle down and find that special woman, ideally one whose hobbies include French polishing.

I am currently haemorrhaging sympathy for the man. How awful it must have been to be intimately involved with Liz Hurley for those startlingly few years when she was attractive (before he fucked it up by nearly having oral pleasure from a woman who looked like something that lived in a dustbin on 'Sesame Street')?

"Each birthday is an almost unpleasant date," bleated Grant. "I told myself that being single in your thirties is fine. But at 46 it's a bit worrying."

Yes Hugh, that is a bit worrying.

Some might say that you're a miserable twat who shies away from commitment and is permanently damaged by an overpowering ego, meaning no partner will ever come up to scratch. Me? I just think you're a posh dick who should be smothered.