This Brand thing’s got me twisted up like a gut full of bad wires. I’ve met the bastard—greasy clown with a motor mouth—and heard his side, all that self-righteous drivel he spews to paint himself saintly. I was around back when these so-called ‘allegations’ were supposed to have gone down, too. And yeah, I know about some of the quiet good he’s done—shit like that little hole-in-the-wall spot in Burton On Trent, no name, no fanfare, just a place he’s crashed through a few times to help some poor sods. Not for claps, mind you, ‘cause no fucker’s even supposed to know. But then there’s this—accusations older than the dirt under my boots.
What the hell’s happening here? Did these women all climb into their dusty lofts, root through stacks of old VHS porn, and suddenly strike gold with some grainy ‘gotcha’ tape? What’s new after 20-plus years to make this worth dragging him through the mud now? Too early to scream ‘guilty, grab the pitchforks’ or play white knight when all we’ve got is a pile of claims and no meat on the bone. Back then, this guy was a walking pharmacy—shoving more illegal shit up his nose and veins than you’ve even got names for, flying higher than a kite in a hurricane, living the dream ‘til it turned nightmare. Sex addict? No kidding—listen to his old comedy bits, it’s practically a neon sign blinking ‘I’m a horny fuck-up.’
But here’s the kicker: back in the day, famous pricks like him were rockstars. Just roll up, flash a grin, and women flung themselves at ‘em like moths to a blowtorch. So what is this—20 years on, a bad case of buyer’s remorse from these chicks? Or did his drugged-out, sex-crazed ass just stomp over the line one too many times? No clue, and I’m not holding my breath for answers when the whole thing stinks like yesterday’s garbage.
Anyone with half a brain and a working eye who slogged through that documentary ( https://www.channel4.com/programmes/russell-brand-in-plain-sight-dispatches ) knows it’s a vague, steaming pile of nothing. Proves fuck-all—one way or the other. Yeah, sure, the guy’s head’s a twisted mess, a goddamn carnival of screwed-up wiring, but does that mean he forced anything? Consent’s a blurry line when you’re that far gone, but the film doesn’t even try to draw it. Just flings accusations like cheap confetti and calls it a day. No proof, no meat, no guts—just a hit job with all the subtlety of a brick through a window. Might as well have been scripted by some sleazy tabloid hack with a grudge and a hard-on for ratings. It’s all noise, no signal—doesn’t even pretend to dig for the truth. Typical lazy bullshit masquerading as revelation.
Do they even have a shred of fucking evidence? Or is this just another pig-squealing hit job by the cops, like every loudmouth with a keyboard keeps shrieking? If it is, what’s the goddamn point? He’s a nobody now, some washed-up relic skulking around the USA, sporting one of those idiotic ‘I’m a cunt’ red hats, playing born-again Christian blogger like it’s a salvation racket. Why the hell would they bother? There’s no juice left to squeeze out of him—unless they’re just flexing their jackboots for kicks. I’m kicking conspiracy theories to the curb before they even start stinking up the room. Whole thing smells like bullshit anyway.
The CPS reckon they’ve got some shiny nugget up their sleeve—fine, let’s choke back the judgment ‘til they slap it on the table. This whole Brand mess? Could be gospel, could be a steaming heap of bullshit shovelled fresh from the rumour mill. It’s a coin toss, and I’m not betting either way yet. He was a drugged up sex pest, but that doesn’t mean these girls didn’t say yes. It also doesn’t mean they didn’t say no. Only thing waving a big red flag in my face is the timing—20 fucking years later? That math’s screwy as hell. Doesn’t add up, doesn’t even pretend to. Smells like someone’s got an agenda or a grudge, and I’m not swallowing it ‘til the stink clears.
So here we are, knee-deep in the muck, no answers, just questions and a bad taste. Stay tuned, you filthy bastards—I’ll keep digging ‘til something bleeds truth or the whole thing collapses under its own weight.
+ There are no comments
Add yours