Groomed For Stardom
‘THAT was the week when marriage made a comeback.
First up was David Cameron. At the start of the week we learnt that Dave was married. We were learning more about Dave all the time. And we listened attentively at the news that Dave had a wife. She had brown hair. She was called Samantha.
This was certainly interesting. But it was just the start. The Telegraph said Samanthas great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother was none other then pretty, witty’ Nell Gwyn, Charles IIs mistress.
If true, Samantha had blood as blue as her husbands Tory credentials. It also meant she was the product, however distant, of a single, unmarried mum.
As was Dave. Cameron was revealed to be Williams IVs great, great, great, great grandson. And whisper it quietly, but this link was rooted in one Elizabeth FitzClarence, the Kings illegitimate daughter, born of Dorothy Jordan, the Kings mistress, and, like Gwyn, an actress.
If Cameron ever gets into No.10, it surely bodes well for the monarchy, the performing arts and single mums.
But marriage was the thing. The Civil Partnership Act came into force. At last, Elton John was free to marry his lover David Furnish.
But where will they do the deed? Of course! There could be only one place. The do would be at Windsor Guildhall – the very venue where Charles made an honest woman of Camilla.
Queens wed at Windsor, said the Sun in shocking pink. It then went on to say that Elton will achieve a notable first when he marries Furnish and so become the first Briton to marry a man having already married a woman he married Renata Blauel in 1984.
Although if you look at Camilla from a certain angle…
A man could form a legal bond with a man. Truly. Paul Gascoigne could marry George Best. Granted, Best would need to be alive to say the necessary vows. But, in a way, though he was no longer among the living, Best wasnt being allowed to pass over.
No Best meant the papers could not rely on tales of the former footballers liver to fill the gaps on slow news days. Best would have to hang around until a successor was found.
And as a guard stood by Bests grave – to keep away souvenir hunters and tabloid hacks looking for his ghost the new Best was discovered and dragged blinking into the limelight.
Who was this slurring figure? Why, it was our old mucker Paul Gazza Gascoigne. Get help now…or end up like Bestie, said the Sun. This was a WARNING TO GAZZA.
It was a similar thing on the cover of the Mirror. There was a looming shot of Paul Gascoigne, newly freed on bail from 14 hours in police custody on an allegation that he assaulted a photographer.
And the headline: IM NO BESTIE. Gazza wasnt wrong. Whereas Best only inflicted damage on his own liver, and latterly one borrowed from a donor, the allegation was that Gazza had wounded the face of one Steve Farrell.
Gazza told the Mirror, Im not like him [Best]. Ive got my alcoholism under control. The Mirror duly employed a sports writer to pen a piece entitled: TRAGIC ECHOES OF SAD GEORGE.
Not only had George Best – four Miss Worlds, lots of gongs and all but a State funeral been dubbed SAD, but hed now been bracketed with Gazza, a man who married someone called Sheryl (whom he allegedly hit), had routinely behaved like a buffoon and once cried on the pitch.
It didnt take Paul Gascoigne too long to start playing catch-up with George Best, said Oliver Holt.
Now, if Gazza can just hook up with Alex Best, win the European Cup and fondle Terry Wogan…’
Posted: 12th, December 2005 | In: Broadsheets Comment | TrackBack | Permalink
