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Jade Fucking Goody

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by discodan, Feb 8, 2009.

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  1. Right I might touch a nerve here and may be banned..

    Anyone with me when I ask... jade goody... you are having chemo-therepy... why have you not lost your eyebrows and eye-lashes?,.,.. when my sister had chemo she lost every hair on her body... sadly a little later she passed away.

    Why does Jade Goody... a fucking wanker of the highest calibre who's only famous because of BB and going on every other available piece of media tatt that will have her.. insist on throwing it up in our faces every bastard day that she has Big C... or not prove me wrong and drop dead... but that aint going to happen she's going to go into remission and make another couple of million quid selling book rights on her struggle against cancer... and how it effected that wanker jack and her troglodites of children..

    FFS get on with it and throw your hand in... I am sick of seeing you every time I open a bastard paper.

    Every day there are people dealing with this plight and you are loving themedia circus that surrounds you.


    rant over
     
  2. Id prefer you went the same way as your sister.
     
  3. BiscuitsAB

    BiscuitsAB LE Moderator

    Kill er, kill er and feed er to the dawgs.
     
  4. Then stop reading the Daily Mail and get yourself the Torygraph like everyone else on here :roll: It'll do you good.
     
  5. this is true lol
     
  6. Yayyy! Another Jade fcukin Goody thread! THAT'S what we need!
     
  7. From The Times

    Jade Goody, a broken toy we made and want no more. By India Knight

    I don’t know which aspect of Jade Goody’s hopeless-seeming battle with cancer is most depressing. The reality television star appeared in the third series of Big Brother, in 2002, and endeared herself to the nation by being big-hearted, guileless and incredibly stupid; fame secured, she then went back onto Celebrity Big Brother in 2007. It all went horribly wrong – she was pilloried as a racist bully who insulted Bollywood actress Shilpa Shetty, caused a national outcry and was sent home in disgrace.

    The giddiness and lack of self-editing, which had seemed so funny and endearing a few years before, now seemed vile. No allowances were made for the fact that Goody, who is mixed race, was the first underclass television celebrity. Her father was an addict and a criminal; he served time for robbery and died of an overdose aged 42. Her mother is a one-armed lesbian who used to be addicted to crack; Jade has spoken about mothering her own mother when she was little.

    Jade’s childhood was tough, let’s say. So her failure to behave as though fresh out of charm school should hardly have come as the world’s greatest surprise. But the tranche of society to which she held up a mirror only wanted to see itself – and its aspirations – reflected positively. Jade Take 1 did this brilliantly: she showed them that anyone could be famous and rich and on telly, regardless of intelligence, opportunity, class, race or background. She was a survivor and she was from a dump. The public loved her for it.

    But when Jade Take 2 came along in 2007 she showed another side, on camera, in real time and live from the dung-heap: prejudice and ignorance, kneejerk name-calling, lumpen gracelessness, inarticulate rage permanently just below the surface. People began to hate her – really hate her. Today, several websites are devoted to her illness and gleefully anticipate her demise; one is called When Will Jade Goody Die? A satirical website wonders whether Goody will be the first “chav saint”.

    The lucrative contracts and television series she had secured fell away; she gave contrite but uncomprehending interviews, weeping face swollen, unable to grasp that we only wanted her to “be herself” up to a particular, manageable, not-revolting point. Her private life was a mess. She separated from the father of her two young sons and took up with Jack Tweedy, a shifty type who didn’t inspire confidence. (Tweedy has recently been let out of jail, having served a sentence for GBH.) And then, hoping to make amends, she agreed to go on India’s version of Big Brother to show that she wasn’t really a racist bully. During filming she was told – on camera, at her insistence – that she had cervical cancer. Goody is so loathed that internet rumours instantly started circulating about how this was a publicity stunt.

    It wasn’t. Following chemotherapy, radiotherapy and a radical hysterectomy, last week Max Clifford, Jade’s publicist, confirmed that the cancer had spread to her liver, bowel and groin. The treatment has left her bald. Her hopes of survival are slight. She remains vocal about the minutiae of her life and keen to express herself via newspaper and television interviews, for which she is paid. These are almost unbearable to watch, read or listen to: whatever you may think of her, the fact remains that Goody is a young woman of 27, with two small children, who probably doesn’t have long to live.

    The survivor has finally turned into a victim and it’s making everyone uncomfortable. Lacking the articulacy of writers such as Oscar Moore, who chronicled his dying of Aids in a newspaper column, or of John Diamond or Ruth Picardie, who wrote about dying of cancer, Goody’s pronouncements have a traumatic artlessness about them: she’s frightened and in pain and she loves her kids and she doesn’t want to die. “I’m in a nightmare,” she told The Sun, crying throughout the interview – and we’re not talking pretty, lace handkerchief crying, but great racking sobs.

    The general feeling is that Goody has said enough, shown enough, exposed enough – both about herself and about the society we live in – and the seemly thing to do would be to go away and die quietly somewhere where there are no microphones and no cameras. But seemliness is the one thing Goody was never about. It is impossible to will her away: you can’t gorge on chocolate and then become outraged when you have a stomach ache.

    The Jade phenomenon exists because we created it – because we found it interesting and mad and sort of hilarious: ha ha, thick fat bird from Bermondsey, ha ha, showbiz folly, ha ha, isn’t it gruesomely fascinating and what can it possibly mean?

    Goody isn’t rich or famous because she won the lottery: she’s rich and famous because we bought all those papers and magazines and ghosted books with her on the cover, because we watched her television series, because we cheered when she was good and booed when she was bad, because we sat around discussing her over lunch. Now she’s dying, she’s making us all feel bad so we want her to go away, like a broken toy that’s stopped being fun.

    Goody’s treatment is, inevitably, being filmed, in a sort of postBig Brother take on the snuff movie. “People will say I’m doing this for money,” she said last week. “And they’re right, I am. But it’s not to buy flash cars or big houses – it’s for my sons’ future if I’m not here. I don’t want my kids to have the same miserable, drug-blighted, poverty-stricken childhood I did. If cancer has taught me anything it’s that big houses aren’t important, being rich isn’t important. It’s my sons who are important – it’s being alive that's important.”

    I think sticking by her is important, too. She’s right about wanting to accumulate money: what else is she supposed to do and in what other way? It’s not just that you don’t call a dying person names, but also that she is society’s creature as much, if not more, than she is her own. The idea that she is so stupid that we should protect her from herself is kind and compassionate and humane – it’s just a shame that nobody had it seven years ago.

    It’s too late now. We’re stuck with her and she is stuck with us, careering wildly down the hill waiting for the crash.
     
  8. Command_doh

    Command_doh LE Book Reviewer

    Goody must be raking in a fecking fortune from all these massive spreads in the rags, with Hello and Okay and readers wives ( fnnarr) no doubt next on the list. Pop star/Footballer wages from all this 'oh woe me boll0cks'.

    Max Clifford has a lot to answer for. The Smug fcuker. Wonder how much dosh will go to MacMillan or the other relevant charities...?

    Most of us here can't stand the sight of the dozy bint, but she is in real danger of alienating the general pulblic with this incessant grief overload. Christ, the way she is going there will be a funeral at Westminster Abbey with Wills and Harry sombrely following behind.
     
  9. BiscuitsAB

    BiscuitsAB LE Moderator

    except you can forget the gun carriage it will need a drops.
     
  10. Close the thread for now and re open it when the Bermondsey Fat Bassa is a cadaver.
     
  11. Someone you don't know and have never met, but have taken offence to is dying of cancer and you find that funny? Josy, with a bit of luck, you're liver will pack up, you gin soaked waste of skin.
     
  12. Oh,

    Mister touchy for a change.

    My father died of cancer and he was the biggest bxstard you could ever meet. Beat my mother to pieces on a regular basis. I was with him when he died and when he was rubbing his cancer filled guts I kept telling him to go, go. go. go.

    He was a bully and so is she, proved it on TV I believe.
     
  13. I did wonder about her eye brows and eye lashes actually, when my missus had chemo she lost hers, yet Miss Goody seems to have kept them. Hmm...
     
  14. Bothered? The burning question though is how much meths have you already supped tonight?
     
  15. My ex GF lost hers with the first course of chemo, though she did not with the second, some do some don't.