I WANTED RUSSELL GRANT… NOT THAT C** T!
JOYCE Piggott can’t leave the house each day without first checking her horoscope.
The 75- year- old widowed gran is a slave to the wholly- bogus philosophy that events here on earth are dictated by the heavenly bodies.
Over the years, she has racked up phone bills running into thousands of pounds, calling premium rate numbers to check what “the stars” may have in store for her.
And though she respects the work of astrologers such as Jonathan Cainer and Justin Toper, for Joyce, there is only one stargazer worth his salt: camp, jumper- wearing Russell Grant.
Devotion
To cement her devotion to the former breakfast telly soothsayer, Joyce decided to have a tattoo in his honour. But when the retired dinner lady went to a parlour near her home in Birmingham, there was a mix- up.
Because instead of inking the face of Russell Grant on her upper arm, the tattooist left the image of wonky- eyed comic Russell HOWARD!
Joyce spat last night: “As you can imagine, the air was f** king blue!
“I told ’ em, ‘ I wanted Russell Grant, not that f** king c** t, you cloth- eared little twat!’
“The tattooist said he’d never heard of Russell Grant and that Russell Howard was the closest he could find.
“For f** k’s sake! We let these daft c** ts loose with needles! Can you f** king believe it?!”
Joyce says she may now sue the tattooist for the price of a tattoo removal.
She added: “I can’t go around with this on my arm.
“People will think I like Russell Howard, when I can’t even stand the insipid little shithouse.”