A poem by Kit Buchan
Fifty Stars Without Make-Up
being an ekphrasis to accompany the article ’50 Stars without make-up!’ in Heat magazine UK, issue no. 666, 11-17 February 2012
Amanda Seyfried looks like a prototype weeping machine invented by puritans.
Jennifer Aniston looks like a seasoned terrorist keeping a straight face while executing hostages by drowning them in bags of gravy.
Sam Faiers looks like the Statue of Liberty, wincing at the arrival of a boatload of Armenians.
Paris Hilton looks like a fatigued cyclist, too lazy to dismount, looking for a sturdy wall to scrape up against for a snooze.
Rihanna looks like a salmon farm seen from above, with clumps of food buzzing on the surface.
Victoria Beckham looks like the man in the moon masturbating in the cinema.
Mischa Barton looks like a drawing of Satan by a Satanist martyr anticipating regular sex with Satan in hell.
Madonna looks like a graffito on Hadrian’s Wall warning the Picts that Pict-bollocks are Hadrian’s favourite supper.
Tulisa looks like an aviator who flew so far away from the sun that she drowned anyway.
Mollie King looks like good salty feta kept fresh in a flooded washing machine full of leisurewear.
Kelly Rowland looks like the feeling you get when a timid colleague tells you he feels you have insulted him.
Kate Hudson looks like the lord God: benevolent, abstinent, fat.
Alexandra Burke looks like the groom at your only daughter’s fancy-dress wedding dressed as Philip Larkin dressed as Nina Simone.
Pixie Lott looks like a bowling alley known to locals as ‘The Way of All Flesh’.
Leighton Meester looks like a four-mile stretch of the US-Mexican border: vigilant and inviting; gargling with blood.
Lauren Goodger looks like the billowing mainsail of a ghost-ship that’s tacking through your pantry at dusk.
Tyra Banks looks like the scallop ejected from its shell that Venus might be born there.
Rochelle Wiseman looks like Mt Everest as seen by the other Himalayas.
Lady Gaga looks like the back end of an omnibus edition of the works of Jeffrey Archer with a photograph of the author on the back cover.
Kylie Minogue looks like the delicate workings of a medieval barometer.
Kourtney Kardashian looks like the onslaught of science into daily life.
Eva Longoria looks like collectible gallows.
Kristen Stewart looks like the monsoon Susan.
Jessie J looks like the sword of Damocles.
Cameron Diaz looks like Rosie fingering Dawn.
Cheryl Cole looks like this beautiful woman in the slightest.
Kelly Clarkson looks like the coveted laptop hired out to dyslexic children during GCSE season.
Vanessa Hudgens looks like a snow-covered mosque.
Kelly Osbourne looks like the Roman soldier who won the smallest segment of Jesus’ cloak.
Reese Witherspoon looks like Ophelia with an aqualung, escaping into the Baltic sea to mate.
Pamela Anderson looks like a particularly tumultuous shipping news bulletin.
Adele looks like the sudden interest in genealogy acquired by the expecting father.
Katie Holmes looks like a coat of arms.
Megan Fox looks like the decline in popularity of the jellied eel.
Jennifer Lopez looks like a gigantic exclamation mark erected to remind people that they are in America.
Natalie Cassidy looks like one of Father Mackenzie’s socks.
Eva Mendes looks like the bone handle of a forgotten letterknife.
Kim Kardashian looks like a mixture of terror and rumour i.e like the yeti.
Alesha Dixon looks like the methylated spirit of the Blitz.
Annalynne McCord looks like the trigger-finger of a Chechen insurgent.
January Jones looks like Western academia: the womb of homosexuality.
Alexa Chung looks like butter wouldn’t boil in her nostrils.
Jessica Biel looks like the missing fragments of the decorative burial helmet from Sutton Hoo.
Pixie Geldof looks like the improvements to St Basil’s Cathedral envisioned by the Third Reich.
Leann Rimes looks like a sceptical icecap.
Danni Minogue looks like the taste of biscuits in the mouth of a jolly lad.
Heidi Klum looks like a secret erection in the chinos of a widower.
Naomi Watts looks like the more exhausting and invasive ways to skin a cat.
Michelle Keegan looks like the choking forgiveness of the internet.
Beyoncé looks just about acceptable, but is wearing foundation and lipgloss at the very least.
Kit Buchan lives in London. His poetry has appeared in The White Review, and he has written for the Guardian and the Observer.