A return to form...
It's been mentioned before, my little obsession with the wondrously self-deluded god that walks among us - David Hasselhoff.
Since the announcement of his impending divorce, it's been a bit quiet, Hoff-wise. Sure, he's pulled out of panto to judge some ill-advised talent programme-or-other, but that was about it. Until this week, when the weirdness that surrounds the Hoff was turned up to eleven once more.
First came the news that he'd injured his arm in a bizarre chandelier-related accident. He allegedly "hit his head" and shattered one (in a toilet?? Was he pogo-ing?), thus severing a tendon in his arm. However, as luck would have it, the ambulance controller on shift that night has a blog (not linked because he tried to conceal the identity of Big D), and says the incident was reported as a "shaving accident" involving something heavy being dropped on a glass shelf, thus severing said tendon. So far, so mysterious. For a man who famously escaped the Betty Ford Clinic on his first night, and who was subsequently found face-down and unconscious in the remains of a hotel mini-bar (I understand he didn't manage the Toblerone - shame on you, Hoffmeister), it's all looking pretty tame. Considering.
But let us not forget who we are dealing with here. In the last ten days or so, Ol' Chickenlegs has been proclaimed the King of the Internet, generating more traffic than the Iraq war, the poxy, parasitic, irritatingly-named WAGs of the England football team and Jordan's tits put together*. I rather suspect this might have gone to his head, a bit.
And so, today's fabulous article, in which the Hoff's press team vehemently deny that he was thrown out of Wimbledon for being, well, a bit pissed. Apparently he tried to get into the press area without a pass, and was "escorted" from the premises. Fucking brilliant. Far be it from me to revel in another person's problems, but if it puts headlines like "Hassled-Off" on the front pages of the red-top press then more power to his elbow.
All hail the Hoff! We bow before his mighty bouffed hair, his pigeon chest and skinny pipecleaner legs! We didn't really like the picture where he was naked with the puppies though. No. Not so much.
* I know I'm only adding, in my own small way, to his ego. But if he finds this blog and wants to marry me, well then it will all be worth it.