The Daily Mail Sidebar of Shame

That reality star with those plasticky whoppers
She lies down on the beach, they stick up like space hoppers
In the picture she’s stumbling out of a nightclub – again
And guess what – she’s a mum – how dare she have fun.
On the Daily Mail sidebar of shame.

Jen’s blowdried and glossy but spinstery sad.
Our body language expert says she’s thinking of Brad
Jen can’t be a spinster and happy, that’s not playing the game
She’s got bad movies she’s got bling but every woman wants a ring
On the Daily Mail sidebar of shame.

We click through the daily Kardashian booty
Or the twelve year old girl, called a long legged beauty
Endless fat shaming and paedophile naming, not news but journalistic crack cocaining
She’s got a trout pout and her tits have gone south
On the Daily Mail sidebar of shame

No one wears clothes, they flaunt curves in a dress
Or parade their trim frame, bottom lift or new breasts
Click on death and disasters and orange peel arses, as grey matter drips out of my brain
Who is she snogging and he’s been caught dogging?
On the Daily Mail sidebar of shame

Must click off now then we see a celeb
She’s walked out on her husband her marriage is dead
She’s not red carpet perfect she must be distraught
They have crisis talks celebrities do
Not a chat or a row like me and you
And we click and we follow these strangers we don’t know but blame
It’s addictive it’s grating – and all woman hating
On the Daily Mail sidebar of shame

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