Tom Cruise – The Man Behind The Man.
Tom Cruise, best known for humping chair legs and kidnapping Katie Holmes, was murdered today when a reanimated L. Ron Hubbard tracked him down and bashed the star repeatedly with a replica Oscar. Ironically this fake award had been fashioned by Cruise himself from Holmes’s spare bra wires. Hubbard justified his actions by suggesting that death
would help Cruise become a Christ-like figure, but sources close to Hubbard contradicted this claim,
saying he would often complain via telepathy and Ouija boards that Cruise was twisting Scientology’s
teachings, turning it into some kind of secret club for repressed homosexuals who want their dates
assassinated then disposed of after coitus.
One source recalls Hubbard communicating from the other side like so:
“Jesus, is it cold in here or is that the cryogenic freezing? Whatever, I’m gonna kill Cruise…Hey, has
Burger King still got that ridiculous offer on? Are they beyond inflation or just savvy advertisers?” The
séance then ended and L.Ron’s ghostly presence evaporated.
The reincarnated Hubbard is now rumoured to be hiding out, having burrowed a hole in the H of the
Hollywood sign to meditate at length on his next thousand-page opus: ‘If I Did It – How I Would Have
Come Back From The Dead And Killed Tom Cruise If That Had Been Me.’
During Cruise’s highly successful and intensely disturbing life, he had what doctors call ‘a poor rate of impregnation’, failing to knock up either waif-like poodle Nicole Kidman or horse / broken-English enthusiast Penelope Cruz. Fortunately
for Tom, and for the rest of Hollywood, the third world was well known for the importation of physically
healthy babies of a somewhat darker, but still sociably acceptable, hue.
Indeed, a scheme has since been set up to return the favour through the grimy underworld of poor people,
with the moneyed classes sending their deformed or disabled babies back the other way. A spokesman
for this widely acclaimed system said: ‘Yeah, we get healthy black babies and they get white kids in
return. The status cancels out their disability. It’s all on my flip chart - look.’
Some have condemned these imported human products as symbols of prestige, to be discarded in later life like
puppies after Christmas or Michael Owen. In truth, a legally-binding contract is made via the baby’s new
Hollywood parent which states that, when the import comes of age, he or she can become a runner for
lightweight art-house movies starring Steve Buscemi (left). But as these children grow out of being all ‘cute and
cwuddly’ they tend to blend in with the deprived immigrants who cook and clean their parents’ houses. Rumour
has it Angelina Jolie believes her eldest once went to wash up a cup and never returned.
A happy showbiz ending looked assured when Cruise finally figured out how to spread his seed. He realised
punching his partner in the belly was counter-productive and decided instead to let his co-star from highly
problematic rom-com Rain Man ‘have a go.’ First time out the bag Dustin Hoffman delivered a massive load,
and within a week Katie Holmes was hurling a strangely business-like baby into the swimming pool of her
next-door neighbours (Angelina Jolie - right, suckling - and Brad Pitt). At that moment Jolie is said to have
imagined God was now delivering babies to her door, only to recognise her mistake after noticing said child
was a little too Caucasian and ‘carrying a briefcase.’
Of course, it would be wrong to write an obituary of Tom Cruise and not mention his movie career.
Towards the end of his short and unfulfilled life Cruise became a controversial spokesman for Scientology, publicly stating that most regular hospitals were made of wood and penicillin was evil because it 'turns people black'. As a direct consequence of this
statement thousands of people in the central and southern U.S. states died, while a surprising number of
white liberals in Manhattan passed away from guilt by proxy.
Cruise’s major legacy will be the development of a whole new method of acting, recognisable by his
trademark moves ‘chew gum’ and ‘open eyes’. Tom will forever be remembered for his many strange
peccadilloes and tendency to employ a vast range of cobblers.
Celine Dion - If She Were On The Ice Instead of Winslet, Leonardo
Might Have Been Able To Fit
Celine Dion, the rotting baby tree-shaped Canadian singer who inflicted much happiness on an ignorant nation,
has died. She expired, not on stage, but while riding a small boat and trying to recreate the famous titanic scene
where Leonardo Di Caprio wraps his arms around a hungry Kate Winslet. Beanpole Dion was in the midst of a
hug from her morbidly chubby manager when their dinghy tragically capsized. She was subsequently caught
up in a violent undertow that dragged the singer deeper and deeper, into the darkness and rotten cold, a place
where sharks and piranhas seek out a decent meal but end up disappointed. Dion then quickly dissolved into a vague, flower-scented effulgence, entirely devoid of artistic substance or relevance.
The gruesome matchstick’s manager, Danny ‘Dapper’ Doppel, survived this terrible ordeal and is now
working on a new Dion album that samples vocals taped from their love-making. While she was alive Dion
would spontaneously burp her trademark songs of remarkable commercial quality while maintaining the
signature Scorched Earth sound. Doppel has been working around some of their remaining recordings
as she shouts “Deeper!” and ‘Not there - only at weekends!” Yet rumours persist Doppel plans to make a
sexually explicit ‘Booty Bounce’ rap album by extracting the sticky offal from Dion’s sex tapes with a
host of rappers primed to collaborate. One, a 'Mr Mouse the Torturer', is quoted as saying: “I’ve always
wanted to split that shiny pencil in two, knowwhatimsaying yo? This feels as close as I’m going to get
Dion was famous for jerking across the stage as if she were on stilts and warbling inane sentiments about 17th century literature. Crowds went wild, hysterically throwing money at her, notes that were often paper-clipped to the brochures of affordable yet well-respected L.A. plastic surgeons. But during her life Celine never took the hint, and we can only speculate what might have happened if she ever cleaned up her face and put on a few pounds. This reporter suggests grieving fans should Photoshop pictures of her giant nose and weighty over-hanging brow that seemed to be making a run for it into something less Dickensian in her memory.
For some reason Dion’s songs were highly successful. Scientists have carried out many tests on her music and
discovered the sonic resonances contributed horribly to global warming. But we should remember she wasn’t
simply a terrible person; Dion’s overwhelming evil infected society in unseen ways. I will just mention cancer, AIDS
and genocide here.
So how should the world remember this rat-faced pygmy? Well, the truth is that history remains an
ever-changing, ungraspable hologram, the viewer distorting events simply by looking at them. They say history
is written by the victors. If that is true then who will speak up for the oppressed masses? Who can capture a
personality, a soul even? Life is a mirage, a mirror, a cruel joke. Ultimately, however, I think the most apt way
to describe Dion is that she was awful. Just awful.
