Madonna’s son Rocco fled the U.S. at the end of last year to be with his dad Guy Ritchie in London because dad didn’t insist he share quarters with three dozen Moroccan boy dancers who smell like liniment and make strange guttural noises in the middle of the night. Madonna filed a series of legal challenges yet to be decided to demand her son back. She’s recently hired a private investigator to trail her son in London. The P.I. reports back to Madonna that Rocco is skipping school, hanging out in skate parks, and smoking cigarettes. Guy Ritchie doesn’t seem to care. Or he’s gay deprogramming his son. Madonna insists her teen son needs the structure only a world tour and seeing your fifty-seven year old mom in just a metal bra splashing olive oil on her vulva in front of 30,000 Slovakians can bring. A court will decide next month which fucked up situation Rocco must endure until he’s eighteen and can start self-medicating with drugs in his own apartment. There’s nothing worse than when Sean Penn shows up to your intervention calling himself your uncle. Fucking drama queen.
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