The Pitts’ Split

‘HAVING spent most of the past four years predicting the break-up of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston’s marriage, the National Enquirer has spectacularly missed the last rites.

Aniston…and on…and on?

Indeed, while everyone else is writing obituaries, it is confidently predicting this week that not only is the marriage back on track, but the couple are talking babies.

A magazine of thinner skin might be a bit embarrassed to find itself swimming against the tide in such a dramatic fashion, but not America’s hottest weekly.

It has impeccable sources on the Caribbean island of Anguilla who witnessed Brad and Jen enjoying a New Year’s holiday and it knows a couple in love when it sees one.

“Jen looks amazing in a bikini,” one of its sources reports, “and when Brad didn’t have an ear-to-ear grin on his face, he was dragging her off to their room for some ‘quality’ time.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they make a baby announcement in the next few months.”

Not content with that, the magazine pooh-poohs the “gossip-driven British bookies” who had slashed the odds on the couple breaking up from 5-1 to 2-1.

“Intimate new photos of Brad and Jen,” it says, “revealed the glam couple is now dead-set on proving the rumours of their rift incorrect.”

And what better way to do that than formally to announce your separation just a couple of days after the pictures are published?’

Posted: 18th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | Comment

Heiress On A Shoestring

‘IF you can’t rely on a Hollywood marriage to last, what can you rely on?

”What do you mean no discernible talent?”

Nothing, it seems – with reports in the Enquirer that even Anorak’s favourite hotel heiress’s time in the sun may be over.

The magazine polls its readers to decide whether Paris Hilton is yesterday’s news after a New York gossip columnist banned all mention of her from his column.

Daily News scribe Lloyd Grove complained that the 23-year-old lacked “discernible talent, education, scruples, manners, modesty or underpants”.

All of which may be true, but surely that only goes to prove that she has all the qualities (and lack of lingerie) needed to endear her to gossip columnists.

Certainly, the Enquirer would be in trouble if a similar ban were implemented by its columnists.

This week, for instance, we learn that Paris and sister Nicky have splurged $25,000 on a tanning bed for their West Hollywood pad, that Paris’s New Year’s resolution has been to put on weight and that Paris and Christina Aguilera were once spotted making out at Miami’s Raleigh Hotel.

And that’s before we even get started on her dog…’

Posted: 18th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Friends Of Dorothy

‘THE existence of a video tape showing Paris Hilton in sexual congress with former boyfriend Rick Salomon would, you might think, have suggested that the heiress is no friend of Dorothy.

And both on their second husband

She’s no friend of Rick either – but it takes more than a steamy sex tape to convince the Enquirer that a woman does not feel best in comfortable shoes.

This week, it promises to reveal who is gay and who is not among Hollywood’s vixens.

And even marriage is no defence against the Sappho-spotters at Enquirer.

Sex And The City maneater Kim Cattrall has three marriages behind her and even wrote a (heterosexual) how-to sex book with her most recent husband Mark Levinson.

But all that rather fades into insignificance compared with a paparazzi picture taken in July 2003 showed her sunbathing topless with a girlfriend in the Hamptons.

Cindy Crawford may be on her second marriage, but what was that next to porn star Jenna Jameson’s claim that the supermodel came onto her.

So, do you really think that the small matter of a sex tape is going to count for anything when the Enquirer actually has a picture of Paris Hilton kissing Carmen Electra?

She may lack discernible talent, education, scruples, manners, modesty or underpants, but she knows how to get a bunch of men talking…’

Posted: 18th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Grave Concerns

‘IT takes a special kind of person to invite Hello! to photograph them visiting their mother’s grave.

”Mum’s always there for me”

But Sarah Ferguson has never wanted to be seen as ordinary.

Operating like some Geri Halliwell/Victoria Beckham chimera, Fergie crouches down and reaches out a hand to touch the simple wooden headstone that marks the spot where her mother, Susan Barrantes, lays buried.

Billed on the magazine’s vaunted front page as “an emotional visit to her mother’s grave”, we who are invited to appreciate Fergie’s grief look on in a state of hushed and bemused wonderment.

But while we fidget and stare at our shoes in an embarrassed silence, Sarah speaks to herself and to her audience.

“I wonder whether I ever really grieved for my mother until I came back her to Argentina,” she says. “It has been one of the most emotional trips of my life.”

And for us, too. For it is a hard heart that fails to be touched by Fergie’s grief, a pain that has given her a rare sense of poignancy.

“When someone dies,” says Fergie, now grasping the stinging nettle that is death, “it is so final.”

Yes, it is. It is terminal. It’s the end of the line. It is a dead end.

“This has been my chance to thank the Argentinean people for everything they gave my mother and to give something back.”

And what better way to say “thanks” to a nation than by way of an eight-page photo spread in Hello! magazine?

Why, by way of polo match, naturally.

“It would be the fulfilment of a dream,” says Fergie. “It is now time for me to spend more time here and make it happen.”

Or die trying…’

Posted: 14th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Gush And Run

‘ANORAK tips for staying friends with friends No. 19807b: “Even if their child is as ugly as sin, just smile and say the words: ‘Oh, she/he/it is gorgeous’.”

Just look at that bone structure

Of course it is a lie. That is as plain as the child. Little Jake has grabbed every one of his gushing parents’ worst features in his sticky hands and stuck them onto his Mr Potato-like, livid red and oddly spotted head.

Just say the words…like you mean them.

So come with us now as we meet some of Hello!’s dearest showbiz pals who are keen to display their new children.

Look, there’s Charlie Brooks with fiancé Tony Trueman and their little baby Kiki. Isn’t baby Kiki gorgeous? Positively angelic.

Could you not just eat her? Sure, it looks like Charlie already has, but don’t say it. Resist the urge. Coo. Smile. Then retreat.

And don’t worry if you can’t even see baby’s lovely face and the photo in Hello! only shows the pram, just say little Kiki is fab-u-lous. She is amazing! You, Charlie Brooks, have a super baby. You clever, clever thing!

Now turn the page and take a gander at the back of Suzanne Shaw and Darren Day’s baby son, Corey.

Don’t worry that you can’t see his face, because here’s Darren to tell us what he looks like. And if you can’t trust Darren to be honest, then whom can you trust?

“Corey’s just so gorgeous and has got Suzanne’s nose and eyes,” says Darren.

Let’s hope he has those features in miniature or else the little boy will look like a cross between a young Groucho Marx and Christopher Biggins.

But we leave Darren to stare at his bundle of joy, for one page away we’ve spotted Liv Tyler and her husband Royston Langdon’s newborn baby son, Milo William.

And we even get to see his face. Well, the side of it, which looks much like any other small baby’s profile – one ear, one eye, one nostril.

And that’s good – although Liv thinks it’s a lot better than that.

“He’s so handsome I can’t stand it,” says she. And nor can we – but we’ll have to while she tells us about his full lips and how he’s “beautiful”.

And priceless, like his mum and so many others like her…’

Posted: 14th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Hal’s About That!

‘M‘LUDS, lay-dees and gentleman, all please be upstanding for His Highness Prince Harry of Cherry Burn, quick change artist extraordinaire.

Special thanks to Princess Michael of Kent for the use of her father’s wardrobe

Prepare to be amazed, astounded and aghast as the young, ginger royal changes before your very eyes.

You’ve seen him in the British Army uniform. You’ve looked on in awe as he retuned to his heritage with a German Swastika on his arms. You’ve seen him attack a photographer while dressed in jeans and jumper.

Now look into the pages of Hello! and see Harry in a football kit, the top of which is deigned to remember the union flag of this fair land.

And then – Poof! – he is gone. Where will this real-life Mr Benn go next? What outfit will we see him in?

Will it be the Taliban’s demented chef’s hat and burkah? The simple monochrome suit of the Khmer Rouge, with optional garden hoe?

Or what about the grand outfit of a pogrom-loving Cossack?

All are possible with this talented, artistic cove. Look on and wonder…’

Posted: 14th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

The Fame Game

‘BECOMING a celebrity is easy; remaining a celebrity, however, is an altogether trickier proposition.

A star is born

It takes the kind of talent, willpower and thirst for publicity that is denied to most of us mere mortals.

Take Jade Goody, for instance, the kebab-guzzling, breast-baring, PJ-BJ star of Big Brother 3.

We look on in amazement as Jade again graces the cover of OK! magazine to share with us the exclusive details of her ”amazing two-stone weight loss”.

And we ask ourselves the question: how does she do it?

No, not how a girl with such a tenuous grasp of geography manages to find herself centre stage, while the likes of Posh & Becks and Brad & Jen kick their heels in the wings.

That’s nothing that a new baby, a new boyfriend or even a new hairstyle couldn’t do.

The question is how Jade manages to lose two stone every other month without fading away completely.

True, she was quite a bulky lass when she first filled our TV screens, but by our calculations the combined weight loss of her various appearances on the cover of Britain’s favourite celebrity magazine means she should now weigh MINUS 12 stone.

So, what’s her secret?

Well, such is Jade’s desire to remain on top of the celebrity tree that in between OK! shoots she will fly herself off to Japan where she is trained by an okayata in the art of eating like a sumo wrestler.

For seven weeks at a time, Jade will eat upwards of 8,000 calories a day, during which period her weight balloons to Feltzian proportions.

She then returns to England, skips breakfast for a couple of days and – hey presto! – an amazing two-stone weight loss and another OK! cover story.

But 11-stone Jade’s not finished there.

”I’d really like to try colonic irrigation,” she says, ”because someone told me that you can drop a stone in one go. If you can lose a stone at a time, I’m going to have one every day.”

Even better – we at Anorak will pay for the first, say, 11…’

Posted: 12th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Body Work

‘HOW do you get a sexy celebrity body like Jennifer Ellison or Kelly Brook?

Mrs Beryl Greenacre, 63, of Oldham

One way is to spend a few hours rifling through the bins of a Hollywood plastic surgeon.

Another is to book an appointment for colonic irrigation after Jade Goody – and turn the dial from ‘suck’ to ‘blow’.

And yet another is to buy a copy of this week’s OK!

You’re sure to shed two pounds, that being the cover price of this esteemed organ – and that’s before you’ve even looked at its five-page guide to bodies beautiful.

”From cracking curves to trim tummies,” it says, ”the world’s sexiest stars reveal all about their superstar bods.”

So, if you look in the mirror and don’t see Angelina Jolie staring back at you, here’s what to do.

You can do as Britney Spears does as spend £4,500 a week on personal training sessions with Bobby Strum.

You can do as Jordan has done and have enough silicon pumped into your chest to run every computer in the world.

Or you can follow Sienna Miller’s lead and use body make-up.

”They spray you all over with foundation so they get rid of every little lump and bump,” she explains, ”and then highlight you with a bit of shimmer to make your boobs look bigger and your bum look better.”

The only problem, however, is ”it does take four hours”.

And that’s to do Sienna’s body. The mind boggles at how long it would take to spray the whole of an average OK! reader’s body…’

Posted: 12th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Chair Today, Gone Tomorrow

‘HE’S a pint-sized singer who appeared on I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here! to try to revive his stalled music career. She’s got big tits.

Emma DD

It could only be Pe…er…Brian Harvey and Emma B.

How anyone could compare the former East 17 singer and his busty model girlfriend with Peter Andre and Jordan is way beyond us.

And it’s beyond Brian and Emma too.

”Obviously they’re together and in love,” Emma tells OK! when it dares suggest a similarity, ”but we’re different.

”We met in private circumstances and we’re generally more private. We like to do stuff on our own without making a big show of it.”

And what could more private than lounging around their luxury Buckinghamshire mansion with only an OK! photographer for company?

But – alas! – there is trouble in celebrity paradise. Brian, it seems, is skint…and ”I’ve got not problem admitting it to people”.

The record contract that Brian hoped would follow his appearance in the Australian jungle hasn’t materialised.

And nor did the hoped-for role as a munchkin in a remake of the Wizard Of Oz.

Indeed, so down on his luck is Brian that this must be the first time where OK! has supplied not only the clothes for the photo shoot but the furniture as well.

Now, we know you’ve all probably given everything you have to give to the Asian tsunami appeal but, if you do have got any old tables or chairs or beds lying around, please spare a thought for this down-on-his-luck popstar.

Donations should be sent to the Brian Harvey Appeal at the usual address.’

Posted: 12th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | Comment

A $1m Gerbil

‘WHILE the stars of yesterday undergo surgery to look like they did back when they were famous and the stars of today backcomb their eyebrows, we wonder who we will worship at fame’s altar in time to come.

”Okay, act like you really like me”

Olivia Newton-John’s daughter Chloe seems a nice enough kind of girl. She’s signed a recording contract and plans to become America’s next pop princess.

But who will be her prince? Why, it’s none other than Kevin Federline, Mr Britney Spears and the next hot new thing on the stage.

So desperate is Britney to make her husband’s dream of stardom a reality, the Enquirer says she’s willing to splash out $1m on singing, acting and dancing classes for him.

Then, when he’s been given the works, Kev and Brit will tour the globe performing as a husband and wife double act, a kind of Richard & Judy in boob tubes and thongs.

”Britney knows it’s a desperate gamble,” says an unnamed pal of the singer, ”but she’ll do most anything to make him a success.”

The pal goes on: ”He cast a spell over Britney that not even Justin Timberlake could rival. In fact, this guy’s driven out all memories of Justin.”

And that would indeed be the same Justin that ”love psychic” Jill Dahne says will get back with Britney two years after the birth of her and Kevin’s first child – which is gonna be a girl.

”They’re soulmates,” says the ”psychic-to-the-stars”.

And what’s more, being already able to sing and dance, Justin looks like something of a cheap date…’

Posted: 10th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Heiress And Graces

‘TALKING of cheap dates, the Enquirer has a few stills of what Paris Hilton has been up to recently.

Disgusting filth!

In CCTV footage taken from a Hollywood newsstand, the story of what the stall’s worker claims to have been nothing less than criminal unfolds.

Lights! Camera! Action!

Scene 1: Paris stops at the newsstand to peruse some showbiz mags.

Scene 2: Paris picks out a couple of august organs and appears to talk on her mobile phone.

Scene 3: Paris goes to the till to pay. Paris spots a poster advertising a disgusting film called ”One Night in Paris”, in which a socialite hotel heiress has sex with her then boyfriend.

Scene 4: Paris is outraged and disgusted. As stall worker Jerry Castro reports, she screamed: ”What the (bleep) are you selling this for? My young fans come by here!”

Scene 5: Paris allegedly tears poster out of plastic wipe-clean wrap, rips it in half and crumbles it up.

Scene 6: Still raging against how such depravity and how low some people will sink, Paris pays for her magazine, and reaches out across the counter and snatches a DVD of said filth.

Says Castro: ”She stuffed it into her purse and declared, ‘I’m taking this and I’m not paying for it!’ she then threw 80 cents change at me and stormed off.”

Scene 7: Now naked and filled with something that looks in the dim camera light like righteous indignation, Paris lies back on a bed and…

Well, let’s just wait and see what happened next in Another Night In Paris, the sequel to that infamous movie…’

Posted: 10th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Pen Friend

‘WANNA lose some weight? Then best lose your liberty first.

Martha denies she is receiving special treatment

Yes, folks, the best place to shed those pounds is in the state penitentiary, where the only things frying are the most feared villains and the meat comes as grilled as your cell window.

And don’t just take our word for it. No less a person than Martha Stewart just swears by the prison regime that has seen her shed 15 lbs in the space of a few months.

But what’s this? Put that gun down, don’t file that fraudulent tax return form, say ”no” to dealing those drugs, because Martha will share her secrets with you in her TV show.

The new programme, which will be released just as soon as Martha is, will feature a live audience, a few celebrity guests and top tips on how to live the Martha Stewart dream.

And if you can’t wait for that, go ahead and mug that little old lady. Your family might disown you, but you’ll look a whole lot thinner in your prison issue denim…’

Posted: 10th, January 2005 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Win Some, Loos Some

‘ONE-NIL! Rebecca Loos, the 26-year-old PA, went on the record to say that she and Dave had had it off.

‘Hands up who hasn’t slept with Day-vid!’

TWO-NIL! A redhead called Helia went on Spanish TV to claim that Becks had three sexual encounters with a short blonde girl in the toilets of Café Buddha.

THREE-NIL! Madrid party girl Nuria Bermudez (nicknamed Muchas Tetas because of her ample curves) claimed she had sex with Dave in his hotel room and how he’d sent her sexy texts.

FOUR-NIL! Sarah Marbeck said she too had slept with Dave.

But what to believe? Dave, dad of the year, Gay Icon of The Year, man of the year, black man of the year, or a bunch of slappers who’d dare sleep with a married man?

Before things got too out of hand, Anorak went on the record to state that we have never had a sexual encounter of any kind with David Beckham.

In the melee of continued media speculation and salacious suggestions to the contrary, we felt our position was such that the record must be set right.

And where we led, others followed – soon David and Victoria issued their own statement.

‘This weekend a series of even more absurd and unsubstantiated claims have been published about David and Victoria Beckham,’ it said.

‘The couple continue to dismiss these stories and they will not be commenting upon them further at this time. Lawyers have been instructed by David and Victoria concerning these matters.’

They were instructed – and that instruction seems to have been to do nothing.

And while the lawyers shuffled papers and exchanged pouts – and Victoria Beckham put on the big sunglasses and looked less like a wronged wife and more like the product of a bluebottle’s short romance with a garden rake – Ms Loos told all.

Having heard David Beckham speak, we were none to surprised that, when it came to phone sex, Rebecca Loos had preferred to communicate with her lover by text message.

One word from Dave and her ardour would have deflated like a pricked helium balloon.

And so it was we were treated to what Dave said, with asterisks employed much in the same fashion pot plants were used to obscure the juicy bits in 1980s porn.

We had no idea what the “sleazy senorita”, the posher-than-Posh daughter of Dutch diplomat, meant to say. But we have it on the record.

And it’s a better record than Posh’s, whose pursuit of that solo No. 1 escaped her once again.

But was her ardent desire to be thought a singer to blame for Dave’s alleged indiscretion(s)?

Elton John thought so, as did most of the distaff side of Fleet Street, for whom Becks had achieved a sudden accessibility.

‘I just think that things went wrong when he went to Madrid. I would have thought the best idea would have been for Victoria to go with him,’ said Elts.

‘If you live six months in a hotel room in Madrid – or anywhere – it’s going to drive you crazy.”

At least Posh got to see her man on Mark Hom’s Beckham portrait that went on display at the Royal Academy.

(It was vandalized – over the black-and-white shot of Dave, some mindless oik has written the words in red ink: “You Loosers [sic].”)

And at the National Portrait Gallery, there was a video portrait of the England football captain by Sam Taylor-Wood. It was called simply David.

Although not the greatest art, it nonetheless showed Dave asleep for 67 minutes – so giving him an alibi for part of the time he had spent away from his wife.

Posh also got to see his tattoos – as did we all, especially that revolting one on the back of his neck.

When a man gets tattooed on his neck or face, it is usually his way of signalling that he plans to (a) have a mental breakdown, or (b) start a new life wandering the streets staring into the middle-distance or c) sitting on park benches drinking carrier-bagfuls of super-strength lager.

But when that man is David Beckham, it signifies nothing of the sort, of course.

It is a statement, to be pondered and interpreted by all the world as though it were an ancient rune.

Posh, however, had a clear idea of her view on the topic.

Said a source, reported to be close to the couple: “She hates his looks, hates the tattoos all over his body and hates the way he swears and rants all the time.”

My, you should see his text messages…’

Posted: 24th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

A New Diana

‘POSH had woken up to realise that she had married a yob.

‘And still she hasn’t got a No.1’

But she couldn’t tell him to his face because she had woken up somewhere else, and she was in Peru experiencing poverty through the eyes of a child.

Posh was in South America for the charity Sport Relief. And it was a time that she will long remember.

‘I’ve never experienced anything like it,’ said she. ‘The poverty is unbelievable.’ And we got to see how unbelievable things got on a TV programme of the Posh adventure called A Mile In Their Shoes.

Or A Few Yards In A Pair Of Heels, as it’s known in TV circles.

It was invaluable stuff that got gilt-edged as Posh told us how ‘the kids in Peru have nothing…I’ll see families who have absolutely nothing’.

No, not nothing Posh, crayons. And darn fine, non-drying out ones that Posh had given them as tokens of their shared pain.

But don’t worry about Posh falling into a state of despair and losing sleep because she has reached the comforting conclusion that ‘despite the poverty here, I do get a sense that people are having a go and are happy’.

And why would they not be? They’ve just met with a Spice Girl, a member of the world’s biggest act. And if that wasn’t wonderful enough, they’ve got crayons…

But, wonderfully, the pair did reunite for a few trips away. Recently, they’ve been in Venice, but before that they went to Courchevel and to Morroco, where Dave wore – to avoid being recognised as he stepped from a limo into the souk – a jellaba.

The long white garment, which covered everything but his eyes – which he only had for Posh, of course – meant he was completely incognito as he walked round the shops, blending in seamlessly with the Moroccan men dressed in traditional jeans and T-shirt.

And was it there or was it somewhere else that the pair made love and so too a new bay-bee?

Posh was pregnant. It would be boy – they’d like a girl, but it’s to be a boy. (Had it been a girl, Posh liked the name Luna – or Loos for short).

“Everyone always asks,” the former artist formerly known as Posh replied to a question as to the next sprog’s name. “Brooklyn and Romeo really aren’t weird names.

“When you’ve got people like Gwyneth Paltrow calling their baby Apple, how does that make Romeo odd? It’s a very old-fashioned name. In Italy, Romeo is like John in London.”

Er, no. We think you’ll find that in Italy Giovanni (or Gianni) is like John in London, but carry on…

“I might just shock you all and call it Juan and be done with it,” she continues. “Juan Beckham…”

Or Romeo Beckham, as they say in Italy.

Elsewhere, the future might bring with it a move to America, where Becks will either become rapper 50 Pence – P Diddy likes his style – or embark on a career in films.

And for Posh, there was talk of a magazine called Liberty, a career in fashion and a trip to the hairdressers.

But whatever it is, you can be sure the cameras and scribes will be on hand to record ever breathless second…’

Posted: 24th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Better Than Sex?

‘“I’M often asked whether scoring a goal is better than sex. For me there’s no contest.”

‘I’d say you were a two-yard tap-in’

The words of David Beckham, footballer, father and thong-wearing accessory and celebrity stepladder to the tick-like Victoria.

But why is it no contest? In the spirit of research, we have taken a good hard look at Victoria and then, with her image fixed upon our mind’s eye, taken a ball to our local park.

Fashioning a goalpost from Dolce & Gabbana’s forthcoming range of jumpers and tracksuit tops, we took the ball and lashed it into the makeshift net, all the while imagining Victoria naked and in the very throes of passion.

And the result is that we concur with Day-vid’s opinion that it is “no contest”: scoring a goal is far more fun and rewarding then playing with La Posh.

And before you say that we don’t really know because we never actually got to bed the former Spice Girl, we point out that neither did we get to score a goal for England in Euro 2004. We only imagined.

But we could have seen what might have been ours had the cameraman who spotted Vicky in the back of the couple’s Bentley unbuckling her husband’s belt and apparently grabbing hold of his manhood only lingered a while longer.

You can tell it was Posh’s hand and not someone else because Dave would never let another women, pig or man touch his golden member, and because it was heavily tanned.

And Posh loves to go brown in town. In “POSH FAKE TAN HORROR” earlier this year we read in slack-jawed terror that Posh had been involved in a truly terrible incident.

While spraying on the fake tan in her Hertfordshire home, Posh had become light-headed from the fumes and passed out on her kitchen floor into a pile of dirty newspapers.

And while a half–coated Posh flayed in the mire, she might have caught sight of tanning engineer Dannielle Heath, saying how she and Day-vid had examined each other’s tan lines.

‘I had been flown out to apply a fake tan and we ended up sunbathing by the pool,’ claimed Dannielle.

‘He complimented me on my figure and I told him I wanted to lose about half a stone. David told me ‘Don’t – you’re perfect as you are.’

‘I was really flattered. He rubbed some cream on my body and started to get aroused. He asked me to go inside to his bedroom and lie down next to him.’

And… And nothing. This story never got any further. In any case, we’d heard it all before. Allegations were that Dave was scoring in Madrid like, well, a footballer.’

Posted: 24th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Mark Of Failure

‘GIVEN the history of Mark Durden-Smith’s career to date, we already fear for his latest adventure – his marriage.

‘I will RI:SE again’

Mark’s CV includes the fact that he is Judith Chalmers’s son and has hosted such forgettable TV tripe as RI:SE, Surprise Wedding, Design Wars and Drop The Celebrity.

He is also known to the literally tens of people who watch ITV2 as the behind-the-scenes face of the reality TV shows Hell’s Kitchen and I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here!

If his track record is anything to go by, Mark’s marriage to Rachel Morse will last ten weeks, after which time he will be voted off.

He will then tell us all about it via the tabloid press before recording a duet with Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, which will lead to a passionless on-screen affair between the pair and, ultimately, an appearance on RI:SE reunited.

Wish him well…’

Posted: 23rd, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

From Brad To Worse

‘THOSE folks at the National Enquirer are nothing if not thorough – and, when they suspect a celebrity couple are growing apart, they want to know how far.

Splitometer reading: 0

That is why they have fitted both Brad Pitt and his wife Jennifer Aniston with a GPS system to keep track of the distance between them at all times.

And that is how they can tell us that when Jen was partying in London recently, she was precisely 5,458 miles away from her husband.

You don’t need a Hollywood relationship expert to tell you that that is way over the recommended maximum of 2,750 miles and puts the Pitts right in divorce territory.

Not content with that devastating evidence, however, the Enquirer has once again been employing its wristwatch to good effect and can inform us that, while in London, Jen was out partying one night until 5am.

That, of course, is GMT and equates only to midnight in New York and 9pm in Los Angeles – but it’s enough to raise an eyebrow or two at the Enquirer.

As we reported two weeks ago, the Enquirer only recently spotted Jen out and about past 11pm in Los Angeles, thus fuelling rumours about the state of her marriage.

So what was the ex-Friends star up to in Blighty?

Again the Enquirer is on the case and can tell us that on one night out she ‘drank four glasses of champagne and was downing the energy drink Red Bull’.

Meanwhile, we are told, 5,458 miles away Brad was ‘crying his heart out’ to Diane Sawyer on a Primetime Live interview to promote his new film Ocean’s Twelve.

When asked where he saw himself in three years’ time, he replied: ‘God, I’m going to say it: kids. Family. I’m thinking family. I got family on my mind.’

And this is yet more evidence, in the Enquirer’s mind, that all is not well with Hollywood’s golden couple.

While Brad, 40, has not hidden his desire to have kids, it says, ‘Jen, 35, hasn’t been so gung-ho about creating a gaggle of tiny Brads’.

Which is strange because it wasn’t so long ago that we were reading that the marriage was in trouble because Jen was so desperate to have kids.

In the Enquirer…’

Posted: 23rd, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Puppy Love

‘YOU might have thought that having a weasel for a husband would be enough for Britney Spears, but it appears not.

‘No, I’m not going to breastfeed you!’

She is just one of a number of celebs to have followed Madonna’s lead and got themselves a Chihuahua.

The Enquirer has a picture of Rod Stewart’s daughter Kimberley emerging from the sea with the pocket pooch in hand, while Scarlett Johansson, Adrien Brody and someone called Kylie Bax have all been seen out with one.

Of course, this could be one and the same dog being passed among Hollywood’s elite – but we think not.

For elsewhere The Enquirer tells us that Britney is practising her maternal skills on the $1,600 mutt.

They say she has transferred her attentions to the dog after a possible recent miscarriage.

Rumours that the pop princess was pregnant have been scotched by sightings of her ‘puffing away on cigarettes, slurping wine, gulping caffeine-laden Red Bull and chowing down on junk food’.

And the Enquirer says that after a recent appearance at the Billboard Music Awards, at which Britney wore a see-through lace outfit and displayed a firmer than usual stomach, sources fear ‘something terrible must have happened’.

Like the Enquirer getting its facts wrong…’

Posted: 23rd, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Lo-han Calorie

‘IF we took of evidence that Britney was pregnancy the fact that she was a little bit porky and had bad spots, we would conclude that she’s been up the duff for the last three years.

‘Look! Nothing…’

We would also conclude that Lindsay Lohan has herself had a miscarriage, seeing how the Mean Girls actress has lost a huge amount of weight in the past couple of months.

However, the Enquirer says exercise is responsible for her new svelte figure.

Apparently she started to shape up after seeing a picture of herself in a magazine filming a scene for her new movie Herbie: Fully Loaded.

‘She said she saw the picture and thought her legs looked huge,’ a source says. ‘It looks like she went on a crash diet after that.’

And it’s worked – she’s not only lost pounds, says the magazine, but she has been cosying up to Clarence Fuller, a 26-year-old model.

Now all she needs is to get pregnant and she can pile all the weight back on again…’

Posted: 23rd, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

The Day Of Parting Nell

‘POOR Dale Winton! How much it must pain him to see the woman he once took as his lovely bride tying the knot with another in romantic Dubai.

Oh, happy day!

It was spring 2003 when we were there to witness Dale marry his sweetheart, Nell McAndrew.

Back then the whole thing was like an identikit C-list do – except that the bride and groom had been accidentally drawn from the same box.

As for the guests, they had all been picked at random from Les Dennis’s address book.

In attendance were the likes of Kym Marsh and her beau Jack Ryder, Blue’s Antony Costa, Toby Anstis, Mystic Meg, Gina G, Esther Rantzen, David Seaman, Nicholas Parsons, Tony Blackburn…

Dale’s best man was footballer Graeme Souness, while his best woman was Cilla Black. Nell, meanwhile, was given away by TV home improvements expert Phil Turner.

But now all Nell has to remind her of that happy day is a nasty orange smudge on her hand and a few old photos. This time when she married it would be different, and it was.

For starters, it was ‘intimate’ – Nell only allowed one celebrity magazine to follow her down the aisle and seems to have just invited a mere handful of guests, or ‘friends’ as we know them to be.

And then there’s the man in her life. Dale must be gnawing on his tanned and manicured fist as he sees Paul Hardcastle, a property developer with a shaven head.

He’s the lucky swine who swept dear Nell off her feet – and then, judging by his broad shoulders and exposed muscular torso, bench-pressed her into the small hours.

We do not wish for Dale to suffer any more than he already has and will keep the interview down to its bare essentials.

For the record that plays in a tortuous loop inside Dale’s head, Paul met Nell six years ago.

But, not to worry, because he only proposed last summer, a good few weeks after Dale had plighted his troth.

‘He gave me glass of champagne and had cooked an amazing dinner,’ says Nell, remembering that magical proposal. ‘Then he got done on one knee and gave me a little box.’

And how romantic is that? But after the feisty foreplay, she accepted.

What happened next is there for all to see in a Hello! photo spread, and on Dale’s tear-stained pillow…’

Posted: 23rd, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Silent Sean

‘WHILE Paul Hardcastle gets our vote to be the next James Bond, one of the old stagers to have played 007 shows us what you get for doing the job.

‘I’ll take this dressing gown to my grave’

And very nice the pay-off is too. There’s a decent sized flat in ‘spacious’ Manhattan, a blonde wife called Micheline and an autobiography in which you get to talk about what it’s like being the world’s most famous secret agent.

And what can we expect to learn from this confessional?

‘I know everyone’s expecting me to list all the women in my life and make torrid revelations about them,’ says Sean Connery, for it is he.

‘But I never will. I’ll take those secrets to the grave.’

Shame! But although we’ll never know if there’s any truth in the rumours about Sean and Kimberly Quinn, we will, nonetheless, get to hear about his education in ‘the great school of life’.

Which seems to have taught him that the best way to conduct an interview in Hello! is to do so while wearing a range of martial arts-style kimonos.

The dark grey number with the black dots he’s wearing to kick off with is intriguing, but the one that really sticks in the mind is the yellow and white flowered outfit he changes into.

Why he does this, we may never know. Perhaps when we come to study his autobiography we may find a reason.

But for now let’s just look at Sean and enjoy him for what he is – whatever that may be…’

Posted: 23rd, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Putting On A Brave Front

‘NO-ONE could accuse Kerry McPadding of having anything other than a fascinating life – so we’re happy to indulge her while she gives us a first-hand account of her recent ‘car crash drama’.

‘And this is the library…’

‘Last week, I was involved in an accident in my new car,’ the woman who comes fitted with twin airbags tells the readers of her OK! column.

‘I wasn’t driving at the time, but we were just 17 miles outside Warrington when it happened. It was nobody’s fault.

‘I had Molly in the car, so it gave me a bit of a shake. Thankfully, everybody was fine and there wasn’t a scratch on my car. I’m glad everyone was okay.’

And so are we, not least because once she has recovered from the shock we can see Kerry turning this riveting real-life drama into the plot of a Hollywood blockbuster.

Certainly, our heroine has her sights set on Tinseltown.

‘If I got an offer to go, I would,’ she says – a declaration that will no doubt have Hollywood’s top agents falling over themselves to sign her up.

‘I’m not going to have anything holding me back anymore.’

Had it not been for her multi-millionaire pop star husband, her blonde hair and huge boobs, who knows what Kerry might have achieved by now…

After all, having blonde hair and huge boobs has proved a real drag on Jennifer Ellison’s career.

The 21-year-old Liverpool lovely is certainly at pains to keep her chest under wraps as she invites OK! into the ‘swish’ London pad she shares with fiancé Tony Richardson.

Indeed, it’s only when she gets to the bathroom that Jen suddenly feels the need to tear her clothes off and slip into a pretty pink bikini she carries around for such occasions.

Not that the bathroom is a stranger to such attire – its previous occupant would often be seen splashing around in the Jacuzzi wearing only a pair of red swimming trunks.

‘It was the flat where David Hasselhoff stayed while he was playing Billy Flynn in Chicago,’ Jen reveals.

But presumably not the flat where The Hoff practised his singing. After all, the walls all appear to be still standing…’

Posted: 20th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Hot Property

‘LOS Angeles airport might think of installing a revolving door to accommodate the C-list celebs from Britain seeking fame and fortune and a I’ve Been To Hollywood T-shirt.

Gary has turned his back on Hollywood

It is now part of every minor soap actor or failed pop star’s education to follow in Martine McCutcheon’s footsteps and make the trip to conquer Tinseltown.

There, they meet with a couple of agents (drink in the same bar as a couple of agents), do a screen test (take a studio tour) and are hailed as ‘Britain’s answer to J-Lo’ (by their publicist back in Blighty).

Two weeks later, with Hollywood on its knees begging them to stay, a mixture of homesickness and disillusionment with the superficiality of the movie business forces them to return home and send their CV off to the producers of Heartbeat.

Former Footballers’ Wives star Gary Lucy is just one of many who have already walked where Kerry McPudding no longer fears to tread.

OK! catches up with Gary at his 21st birthday party, which appears to be about as well-attended as a Mike Read musical or an evening with Les Dennis.

And it informs us that, after a couple of trips over to America for auditions, the ex-Hollyoaks star ‘is now devoting his time to his property portfolio’.

That may be the C-list equivalent of the politician spending more time with his family, but fans of Gary should know that he is busy with other things as well.

He is planning to go on a skiing holiday next year…’

Posted: 20th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Confidence Trick

‘WHILE Gary Lucy can still get Abi Titmuss to turn up at his birthday party, he knows that there is still some life still left in his celebrity career.

‘The one thing I have confidence in is my talent as an author…’

Only when Abi finds herself washing her hair should he cut his losses and apply for a job as the estate agent he was always destined to be.

And maybe then he can sell a house to an unemployed fashion designer called Victoria Beckham.

The artist formerly known as Posh may thankfully have called time on her music career, but she’s not ready yet to devote herself to her property portfolio.

She is busy laying the foundations of a career in an industry even more vacuous than music.

‘I’m liking taking a back seat and being less of a celebrity and more of a brain,’ she says.

‘Fashion is the one thing I feel confident about because I probably know more about it than anything else.’

The one thing you feel confident about, Victoria?

We thought you were also confident that husband David never had an affair with his pig-pleasuring PA, Rebecca Loos…’

Posted: 20th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Shane On You

‘IF they don’t call their sons Jake, Max or Oscar, the next most imaginative thing a celebrity can do is to name future stage school protégés after themselves.

‘And the winner of Best Audition Not To Be Given A Role is…’

And here is Shane Jr, named after his famous dad, Shane Richie, sitting with his brother Jake on a rug before the roaring fire at dad’s five-bedroom house in the Buckinghamshire countryside.

Completing this scene of domestic bliss is 25-year-old Christie. She’s not mum to the wee scamps – that honour goes to Coleen Nolan, Shane’s first wife. No, she’s better than that – she’s their mate.

‘Shane and I get the best bits,’ says Christie, a former dancer, no less.

‘Coleen and Ray [her husband with whom the former Nolan Sister lives in Blackpool] have to make sure they go to bed early, but they come here in their holidays so we stay up until 3am watching films and eating pizzas.’

And Christie is not only a great pal but a budding actress to boot.

She has ‘followed Shane into acting’, a comment that suggests Christie was not into acting when she met actor Shane and then moved into his home within two weeks of that magic moment.

We’ll move onto Shane in a moment, but first let it be known that Christie has appeared in the straight-to-Channel-Five blockbuster American Daylight and only just missed out on a regular part in the ITV drama Bad Girls. She was down to the last two!

Oh, and before we get to how much Shane loves Christmas and his kids, Christie would like it to be known by everyone that the tinsel and trees that festoon their home are all her own work.

‘I do all of it,’ says Christie. ‘Don’t let Shane tell you any different!’ Pah! As if he could. ‘I buy all the presents,’ she adds. ‘It doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I’m running about on Christmas Eve panicking that I’ve forgotten somebody.’

Like old woz’isname. You know, the one who’s in EastEnders. Sorry, Christie, you were saying. Of yes, about that acting career…’

Posted: 16th, December 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments