Sex, lies and a breakdown – starring Ashley Cole

by Claire Tully

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010
 

There are times in life when it seems like the whole world is against you and everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.

Like when your entire family dies in a freak hurricane, leaving you with no arms or legs having to eat your way through faeces and severed limbs for survival. Or when you lose your job, your house goes on fire and you find out you are penniless AND have terminal cancer all on the same day.

Then you might just about be able to muster up the words “Nice one, God!”

Earning an eye-watering £82K a week, having FHM’s sexiest woman in the world as your wife whilst steadily shagging your way through an intercontinental list of totty doesn’t quite make the list of “Shit Things That Could Happen to You!”

Unless of course, you are professional shag-lete Ashley Cole.

Following the demise of his marriage Mr Cole spent a week or so holed away in a state of the art Sports Clinic in France lamenting the path his penile compass took him and complaining to people (assumedly between massages) that his life had been “ruined”.

R.U.I.N.E.D.

God, don’t the people of Haiti know what real suffering is?

Having a conscience on par with Jordans he then blamed his serial bedding on none other than his mother-in-law. Not because she pimped him out but because she happened to live somewhere in the grounds of his £3.5 MILLION mansion. And in doing so allegedly affected his sex life.

Now, hands up those of you like me who still live at home and have somehow managed to get on with having a sex life? Granted it may not be one that involves doing the backwards cowgirl on the kitchen table (difficult to explain should your parents come in to make tea or something) but we manage to do things like keep the volume level down or afford a hotel room now and again  – even on our meagre wages.

And it’s reasonable to assume anyone who vomits on someone during sex and then has the audacity to tell them to be grateful for it (before passing out) isn’t likely to care if someone’s Ma is in the next room or not. With a track record like that and the fact he has been so prolific at shagging I could probably count on one hand the numbers of girls he hasn’t actually bedded, I’m not really buying Ashley’s in-law excuse.

And him growing a face rug the size of a small dog while pining away smelling Cheryl’s old pillow and listening to Girls Aloud isn’t going to change that.

Of course I’m writing this on a football blog when it all has absolutely no relevance to football except the spate of slimy spouses making up the English football team has even made aul Fabs eyes water.

Is this the year England will win the World Cup – maybe not, but it is the year of the love rat.
Ashley, having the morals of a horny prostitute with AIDs, has been back partying  (seemingly part of the moving on process) after his “brief” misery.

Probably in the same briefs. Some things never change.

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  • dexylongshot

    Little sh*t, poor old Cheryl, i hope she makes him pay.

  • Dave

    I cant even get a girlfriend so people like Cashley make me sick, he had it all and wanted more.

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