The tale of the actress
Posted in Blog, de-punz by Twenty Major on July 11th, 2007
The young actress had just begun to make it big. Years of scratching around in episodes of increasingly lame cop shows, no matter how much she put herself out there, had been a toil. But then came a lucky break.
The brother of a big star was the baddie and he told his super-hot, super-famous, super-influential sister this chick was smokin’ and could go places. A small part in sister’s next movie got her some good press and enough to get a part in a summer blockbuster as the aging star’s ditzy and completely accidental partner. She played it for laughs and despite the script being looser than a priest’s gown in a room full of orphans she had fun with it and the public liked her for it.
Now she had a real agent, and a PR person, and a stylist, and a hairdresser and real estate advisors and accountants and a manager, of course. It was all so much so quickly but she took it in her stride and in the next movie she fell in love with the leading man. And what a leading man. Only the hottest thing in Hollywood since the Scientology centre burned to the ground that fateful night. With all the Scientologists in it. Shame.
Combined income. Double the star power. Magazine covers. Talk shows. Press. Radio. Internet. Paparazzi. Dlisted. It just never stopped. House in the Hollywood Hills. Apartment in New York overlooking central park. More movies lined up. Starring roles. More money. More fame.
She was getting her hair done the first time she saw him. Thought it was odd the way he was staring but put it down to her FHM shoot that had just hit the news-stands. Didn’t think about it until she saw him again shopping in Chanel. Outside the window looking in. Nerves then. Something setting off alarm bells in the back of her head. Then nothing for weeks. She’d almost forgotten when doing a TV interview with the funny guy who makes political jokes he’s there. Somehow he’s backstage.
She freaks. Tells the producers. Her people. Nobody sees. At home she weeps alone. Boyfriend is shooting far away from home. The next day he’s at the gym. She completely flips. Rings her manager and orders security, bodyguards. Whatever it takes. She decides to get out of town. Do some mountain biking. The second day she climbs a hill and he’s there. Just staring. The bodyguard, out of shape and some way behind, sees nothing. She goes back home. Her head is melted like ice-cream on a haemorrhoid.
She needs peace and quiet. Tells them to patrol the perimeter. Leave her in the house. She’ll call if she needs them. Has a bath. Soaks herself, dries off, goes to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Sees something from the corner of her eye. Knows it must be him. He’s there. At the window. She pulls down the blind. Moves to the next one. He’s already there. Looking. She knows there’s no point calling the guards, just knows.
She checks the locks, grabs the phone and runs to the bedroom. Locks that door. Pulls down the blinds. Has dialled 911 on the way up and now speaks to the dispatcher.
“Yes, I need police right away. I’m at 3235 La Bamba Heights. There’s someone out there trying to get in.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“All I know is that he’s been following me for weeks.”
“Calm down, ma’am. There’s a car on the way.”
“Thank you.”
“What does he look like ma’am? I have to tell the unit.”
“Well, he’s white, about four feet tall and he stands on one leg.”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“He also has a powerful beak.”
“Ma’am?”
“And his wingspan is very, very large.”
“Erm…”
“Didn’t I just tell you? I have a storker.”
groan. grone, even.
July 11th, 2007 at 12:20 am
Flann O’Brien must be spinning in his grave - or maybe he would have liked it..
July 11th, 2007 at 12:42 am
1
She’s better be more circumspect from heron in. Those LA cops won’t stand for a lot of whiny pigeon and complainin’.
“script being looser than a priest’s gown in a room full of orphans” Ha!
July 11th, 2007 at 12:49 am
2
I just wasted five minutes reading that (sorry, a CBS education, you see) and I’ll never get them back, ya outrageous bollix. Thank Christ I’m at work and not wasting me own time…
July 11th, 2007 at 1:32 am
3
my brain hurts
July 11th, 2007 at 2:09 am
4
ouch that one hurts
July 11th, 2007 at 5:07 am
5
nice bird
July 11th, 2007 at 8:03 am
6
what a crock of absolutue shite.
July 11th, 2007 at 8:19 am
7
I mean it when I say…groooooooan.
July 11th, 2007 at 8:44 am
8
Really thats just too much for me to take this morning ……….
July 11th, 2007 at 9:02 am
9
your all mean and going to hell, leave poor twenty alone, he just had a bad morning.
July 11th, 2007 at 10:09 am
10
margerine
July 11th, 2007 at 10:17 am
11
Now I feel empty and mislead.
July 11th, 2007 at 10:24 am
12
worth it for the haemorroid line alone
July 11th, 2007 at 10:35 am
13
Ice-cream on a bunch of grapes thats a new one, does it work, I find hot chilli sauce gets rid of the itching.
July 11th, 2007 at 10:41 am
14
Good Jesus that’s awful. After this and the donkey one from last week, I’m waiting for you to post that one about the “mild, green hairy lipped squid” any day now…
July 11th, 2007 at 11:04 am
15
Her head is melted like ice-cream on a haemorrhoid.
How could you possibly know what thats like unless you’ve tried it, you sick man!
July 11th, 2007 at 11:04 am
16
I have very bad dose of piles, I applied a liberal coating of stork to the affected area, that was week ago, and still, “I Can’t Believe Its Not Better”.
July 11th, 2007 at 11:09 am
17
She had just gotten out of the bath,
so did she have blue tits aswell as a storker… boom boom
July 11th, 2007 at 11:24 am
18
I knew of an actress who once had a storker.
She was a Blackbird with Great Tits. One night she was Swanning around in her kitchen with a tub of yogurt (she had a nasty case of Thrush at the time) when she heard a noise in the hallway and thought someone was Robin the house. Swift as an Eagle she Ducked down near the phone and began to call the police. But she had to Swallow with dread when she heard someone enter the kitchen and turned to see a masked man standing there with his Woodcock out. Not to worry though, all he did was Goose her in the tail and then run home to Crow about it to his friends. The worst was when she explained what happened to the cops, they thought she was a Raven’ Coot!
July 11th, 2007 at 11:39 am
19
Take a bow Lung! That was brilliant!! (You must be a member of BirdWatch Ireland)
July 11th, 2007 at 11:44 am
20
Ah dude, when I get to the pearly gates and they try and push me in, i’ll be telling them that you owe me 5 mins of my life!
although the writing was v good - very suspenseful (if that is such a word).
July 11th, 2007 at 12:10 pm
21
Oh sweet jesus…someone please help us. Is that what can be expected in the book?
July 11th, 2007 at 12:19 pm
22
I scrolled to the end.
My hatred for you grows.
July 11th, 2007 at 12:48 pm
23
You’re getting on my Boobies this week Twenty(and yes Boobies are birds too) between this shite and the Traveller rants - bring back Blogorrah because your blog is suffering since they vanished….or maybe it’s the book…. now fuck off and get back to the good stuff and by the way you resemble a Kakapo** bird in so many ways - “the world’s rarest and strangest parrot”
**Kakapos live in New Zealand, an island country which had virtually no mammals living on it for millions of years. It was a place inhabited by birds and reptiles. The only types of mammal were two species of bats. The Kakapo did not learn the defense mechanisms to combat or escape mammalian predators. This made the parrot very vulnerable when new animals started showing up.
July 11th, 2007 at 1:24 pm
24
Dear Samantha,
shove it up your hole.
cheers
Twenty
July 11th, 2007 at 1:58 pm
25
Sorry to say this Twenty as I’m a fan of your ‘Blog’…but today’s effort was shite of the first order. As my old form teacher used to write on the bottom of my workbook “Must try harder”.
July 11th, 2007 at 3:07 pm
26
Genius post by Lung the Younger. Will he be doing your blog while you are on holidays Twenty, like all those other media stars who have stand ins when they fuck off on holidays for three months?
July 11th, 2007 at 3:25 pm
27
Fuckin brilliant Twenty - great punch line!!!
July 11th, 2007 at 3:40 pm
28
I can’t believe you went to effort of writing all that down!
July 11th, 2007 at 4:18 pm
29
Oh yeah! I just know that you’re crowing over that one!
July 11th, 2007 at 4:53 pm
30
Twenty, you’re a fecking eejit. For the second time in a week you’ve conned me into reading a shiteful joke not worthy of a Christmas cracker. I can’t believe you’re doing this -you can’t be short of copy material. How about a post on something interesting like Damien Rice, Terry Wogan or brucellosis in Irish farming communities…
July 11th, 2007 at 5:18 pm
31
Is it Sienna Miller ? Apparently she has a boring life according to herself. Maybe a storker would liven things up for her. Or do I give a toss. Who knows.
July 11th, 2007 at 5:51 pm
32
Maybe you should give the whining fucking maggots their money back?
July 11th, 2007 at 6:34 pm
33
Are sure yourself an Ms Ahern aren’t related - uncanny.
July 11th, 2007 at 11:23 pm
34
When you die (which could be soon if you tell another joke like that) you will be remembered for the “melted like ice-cream on a haemorrhoid.” line rather than yer feces collection, well done. Oh I quite liked the dragon shaped one.
July 12th, 2007 at 8:56 am
35
Mad dog: brucellosis is no laughing matter….nor is sycoptic (sic) mangemite
July 14th, 2007 at 12:39 am
36