Mills spills mills as judge doesn’t screw Hey Jude dude
Words Lionel Cake
So what more do we know from the McCartney vs. McCartney case that we didn’t already know about the head aristocrat of British pop and his Geordie ex-missus? Apparently Sir Paul is half as rich as everyone thought and Heather Mills McCartney still has one leg and is a bit of a cunt. The sorry saga probably won’t sit too well with Beatrice when she’s old enough to check out her folks on Google, which she won’t be able to do when she’s flying in economy class.
Mr Justice Bennett said Heather was a “kindly person and devoted to her charitable causes” and that she “conducted her own case before me with steely, yet courteous, determination”. Mills struck out for all women everywhere by defending herself, and lost roughly a hundred million quid in the process. But then nobody was ever going to fuck a Beatle over unless they had a gun.
Mr Justice was kind to Macca: “[He] expressed himself moderately, though at times with justifiable irritation, if not anger.” Well, who wouldn’t if they were only worth £400m and had to give a chunk of it away to a trout-lipped uni-ped with a messiah complex?
Paul was only too happy to have the details of the case published, something Heather attempted to block. Clearly Macca repudiated the charges and the possible tarnishing of his reputation with such conviction that he was happy to forego the possible upset it might cause his daughter in consequent years.
It’s certainly no fault of Macca’s, and very much something ‘Mucca’ has exacerbated, but was there ever a chance this case would ever go against the remaining genius behind The Fab Four? John and Paul were taken to the breast of the nation and given license to lick and suck at will. If Britain could physically have children, they’d be Lennon and McCartney; no matter how good their potential WAGs, nobody is enough for our boys. Linda was only accepted once she wriggled off her mortal coil and Yoko was treated with the sort of prejudice, racism and irrational hatred that’s difficult to sit comfortably with if you’re British.
He doesn’t need Fiona Shackleton to tell him that next time he might want to sort himself out a pre-nup.
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