To be absolutely honest, I'm not arsed about Cilla in the least, but I've taken on board a few lovely posts from Timbo and Kinki that may have given another side of the story. I have to say though, my ma is from Burly, and lets just say that I'm happy with the principles that she taught me, which are entirely at odds with those I've read about Cilla Black.
What I am fucked off about is this whole Dianafication of Britain with it's almost state funerals for the gossip mag generation that we've sleepwalked into. Oh do us a favour and get ter fuck. Celebrity funerals and accidents are the new celebrity weddings aren't they? I wouldn't be surprised if we saw a picture of fucking Les Dennis and his new squeeze, or Christopher Maloney and his nan, in next month's OK Magazine with their "I was at Cilla's funeral" story. It sticks in my fucking craw that things like this, things like the other gormless c*nt having a new baby (that'll be second to the throne and end up in a life of privilege, dressed like a Nazi and snorting coke off a stripper's arse cheeks) are turned into this whole media and celebrity circus these days. And all because of some bevvied Frenchie wrapping a Merc round a lamp post with some loony toons, conspiracy theorist in the back seat, who couldn't handle not being a real queen so kissed a few babies with Aids to show how "real" she was and how much she cared. Cared my fucking arse. The only thing she cared about was getting dropped out the spotlight like that other toe jobbing fat useless c*nt who divorced Prince Questionable Age.
The country is up the fucking wall, society has gone to shite, the poor, sick and elderly are being treated like an inconvenience. Yet the media, the right wing controlled media no less, who ended up sleepwalking a gang of fucking divvy lemmings of a cliff into the mouths of a Thatcherite worshipping Tory government, feed them the bread and circuses of a celebrity funeral to distract them, while the government rob them of billions with a cheap sell off of RBS shares and refuse to pay for a wonder drug that helps cure Hepatitis C, because, well, who gives a fucking toss whether a few thousand smackheads, brasses, rentboys and alcies die every year? Turning out for the fucking Lord Mayor's Ball, but couldn't be arsed turning out for a general election, and then complaining that society is fucked, family allowance and housing benefit have been slashed and you've got to work 30 hours a week unpaid to claim 50 odd nicker in dole. Priorities are all just fucked up.