Holden On For A Hero

‘IF Richard Desmond wants someone to share the pain of his rejection, then he should place a call to Les Dennis.

”When we divorced, I got the publicity and Les got my knickers”

For, having watched his own beloved humiliate him in public (at a time when he didn’t exactly need any help in that regard), Les must now contend with seeing her in the arms of another.

She is, of course, Anorak favourite Amanda Holden and the man in question is Chris Hughes, a 30-year-old music producer to whom she is now engaged.

And so happy is she about this state of affairs that she is telling reporters (among them Hello!) that “I couldn’t be happier”.

“It’s the most amazing love I’ve ever experienced,” she adds (in case we hadn’t got the point). “I’m overjoyed and I love him very much.”

But, even second time round, the course of true love doesn’t always run smooth – and the couple briefly separated last year.

This, however, was not a brief separation like the one Amanda and Les had after her affair with Neil Morrissey.

No, it was, says Hello!, the pressure of being in a high-profile relationship that proved too much for Chris.

“He had to go away and do his own journey,” said Amanda.

A bit like a certain two-year-old boy…’

Posted: 25th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

A Day Dream

‘LINFORD Christie was quick. The Stealth Bomber is quick. Vanessa Feltz at an all-you-can-eat buffet is quick. But nothing moves faster than a celebrity romance.

‘God I miss Suzanne’

And when Darren Day is in the stalls, the other runners and their riders baulk at the contest. Tracy Shaw pulls up lame. Bookies stop taking bets.

Darren is quick…very quick. But now he’s left less a slipstream in his wake than he has a pregnant woman, and her name is Suzanne Shaw.

When Suzanne was booked to appear in OK! – to talk candidly about the “trials” of her pregnancy, “dealing with Darren being away, her fears about the birth and her marriage plans” – all was well.

She and Darren, that self-confessed “incurable romantic”, were an item. They were in love. Suzanne loved Darren “enormously” and Darren planned to be at the birth of his son and cut the cord.

The only problem was that he’d been on tour with the cast of Joseph and that meant Suzanne had not seen as much of him as she’d like.

She would have gone on the tour – “I would have been at his side every step of the way” – but, what with her being ill (those “trials”) and the sciatica she’d had throughout the whole pregnancy, she couldn’t make it.

But not to worry because Darren was dutiful. Says Suzanne: “He comes home…and he’ll fall asleep with his hands on the bump.”

Sadly, the home in question happened to be a Travelodge, while the bump was a Swedish co-star and lingerie model by the name of Cecilia Carneby.

Oh how cruel the words in OK! now look as Suzanne broke away from her baby shower to tell us how the pregnancy was meant to happen “because it has made us so strong and entirely inseparable”.

As we hear that things were just as hard for poor Darren – “he’s missed out on things like when the baby kicked for the first time”.

And as lovely, trusting, stay-at-home, ill Suzanne cooed: “Every day I love Darren a little bit more.”

And every night, Darren was in his Travelodge loving someone else a little bit more than he loved his Suzanne…’

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

Food For Thought

‘WITH Peter Andre and Jordan inflating each others egos, bank balances, chests and acorns, it’s time to see what Queen Of The Jungle Kerry McPadding is up to.

The Charles and Di of the celebrity jungle

In this auspicious week when I’m A Celebrity… returns to our screens, how will Kerry spend her final days at the top of the jungle tree – before being usurped as Queen by Janet Street-Porter, Natalie Appleton or Paul Burrell.

It’s been a few weeks since Kerry surrendered her OK! diary in the face of so much angst, but now she’s back to tell us why she and Brian split.

However, it’s not all been bad news – as Kerry says on the front page: “I’VE LOST SO MUCH WEIGHT, I CAN’T EAT.”

Every cloud has a silver lining, indeed.

And while we await the latest diet fad and Kerry’s book – Lose Pounds With A Divorce Lawyer – the girl herself just wants to say that she and Brian were “victims of their own success”.

It apparently wasn’t only us who suffered as Brian launched his solo singing career and Kerry droned on and on about her children, her time in the jungle, her children and her time in the jungle; they suffered too.

We have all of suffered with and, in some ways, from Brian and Kerry, and now we can only hope the dark days are behind them both.

And look forward to the return of Kerry’s diary, before she slips into a size 10 dress and obscurity…’

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

Flights Of Fancy

‘WHEN Joan Collins became involved with the UK Independence Party she told women of a certain age that their future was not mapped out with lines, thread-veins and crow’s feet – it was orange.

‘In the beginning was the make-up’

And there is Joan proving just that as she poses for a photograph wearing her skin in the colour made famous by her political inspiration, the Tango-hued Robert Kilroy-Silk.

But Joan is so much for than a political firebrand, for she is a writer, and a fan of a company that picks up your bags before you get on a plane and delivers them to your destination.

That sounds great, and we look forward to hearing more about it, but for an international siren like Joan, where exactly is her destination? Where is home?

London, New York and the South of France are all mentioned as places Joan calls home. “If I’m in a hotel, that’s home too; I’m very adaptable,” she adds. She is, as she says she is, “a citizen of the world”.

But before Joan heads off towards glamorous Equatorial Guinea, sparkling Chad or to spend the next eight or nine months in New York (as is her preferred choice), she wants to tell us about her new book.

“It’s a sprawling family saga about a highly dysfunctional and exceedingly rich family…” says she. “It’s the sort of thing you see on EastEnders or Coronation Street…”

But nothing like the sort of thing you used to see on Dynasty.

“Blake rolled over in bed in his Denver mansion, wiped the sleep from his eyes and lifted his head from the heavily-padded shoulder of his beautiful young wife Krystle and whispered: “Don’t worry, luv, I’ll sort it…”’

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

Brit Fit

‘ONE baby who’s got back, as well as front, is Britney Spears.

Will Britney’s marriage go the same way as her career – tits up?

But not everyone is as impressed with Brit as her gerbil-like husband Kevin Federline.

Amber Tamblyn, the 21-year-old star of a show called Joan of Arcadia, thinks women should use their brains rather than their bodies to succeed.

“Britney is the epitome of a non-artist,” she says. “She has nothing to offer but her T & A.”

Now, 22-year-old Britney may be, in the words of the Enquirer, an “underdressed, oversexed, prancing pop star” – but to say she has nothing to offer apart from tits and arse is unfair.

She also has her hand in marriage to offer – and she is as generous with it as she is with the other parts of her body.

But Amber is not impressed.

“Women need to respect themselves and their bodies,” she says. “If we rely only on a sexy body and large breasts to become famous or attract men, then I find that terribly sad.”

So apparently does Britney – at least that could explain why we come across her in tears later on in the magazine.

An alternative explanation – and that favoured by the Enquirer – is that she has just had her first fight with her pet gerbil.

It claims that Kevin hit the roof after finding out that his wife had been in contact with former beau Justin Timberlake since returning from her honeymoon in Fiji.

An eyewitness describes the scene.

“Britney was on the phone for at least five minutes while Kevin pumped the gas. All the while, she was sobbing into the phone.

“It’s anyone’s guess who she was talking to. Maybe, it was his mom, maybe it was Justin.”

Or maybe it was Amber Tamblyn, she of the small breasts and large mind…’

Posted: 22nd, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

He Woodn’t!

‘FORGIVE us for treating reports that Ben Affleck may have paid – or be about to pay – a visit to a plastic surgeon with a degree of scepticism.

You can tell how old Ben is by counting the rings under his eyes

Why would the actor have Botox injections and risk compromising the woodenness of a face that won such accolades in Pearl Harbor, Gigli, Jersey Girl, Paycheck, Surviving Christmas and assorted other turkeys?

However, the Enquirer is suspicious – it looks at photos of Ben today and of Ben four years ago and notices that these days there are fewer wrinkles on his brow.

Of course, this could have something to do with the fact that Ben isn’t frowning in the most recent picture.

But the magazine claims the 32-year-old is becoming increasingly concerned about his appearance.

“He fears he’s looking older,” says a source, “and that unattractive jowls could affect his career.”

The source adds that Affleck has already consulted a plastic surgeon about having liposuction on his neck – a claim that actor’s spokesman dismissed as “total garbage”.

Affleck, the spokesman said, wouldn’t even consider visiting a plastic surgeon or going under the knife.

A carpenter with a chisel maybe…’

Posted: 22nd, November 2004 | In: Reviews | Comment

Bum Rap

‘SCIENTISTS may disagree over global warming and the shrinking of the polar ice caps, but when it comes to Beyonce’s bottom they speak with one voice.

No job is too big for Beyonce’s medical advisor

It really is disappearing – and fast.

The National Enquirer, the American equivalent of The Lancet, lines up not one but three experts to confirm the alarming fact.

It says the Destiny’s Child singer has lost about 12 pounds in recent weeks – “and most of it has come off at the expense of her best asset”.

No, not her voice, stupid. Her bum, which only three months ago was declared the most beautiful derriere in the world (i.e. America).

Dr Stacy Title, a weight loss guru from New York, says recent pictures appear to show that the singer has been exercising as well as dieting.

And that, warns renowned Chicago cosmetic surgeon Dr Gregory Turowski, is a dangerous cocktail.

“As commendable as exercising is, Beyonce should know that the very shape of her buttocks – that almost perfect sphere – will sadly be the first thing to disappear if she overdoes it.

“With a slimmer, more muscular rear from exercise and diet, she is unlikely to keep the perfect shape that made her so talked about, and therefore less likely to make beauty experts or fans vote her the best butt in showbiz again.”

If that is not motivation enough to get Beyonce off her perfect butt and, well, back down on her perfect butt, then she should listen to Florence Anthony, editor-in-chief of Black Elegance magazine.

“We like her better with a little meat on her bones,” she says, advising the singer to get a new doctor.

“The guys think this one may have worked you out a little too much – they love a baby who’s got back.”’

Posted: 22nd, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Father Time

‘“ISN’T he beautiful?” says Jodie Brook Wilson as she cradles her and Des O’Connor’s newborn son, Adam, in her arms.

‘I buffed up quite nicely, don’t you think?’

For once Hello! is momentarily speechless. And Jodie is taking no chances of there being an answer that is either too honest or not what she expects to hear, preferring to just plough on.

“Baby Adam was born at 10:44 on a Tuesday, so every week at that time we sing Happy Birthday to him to mark the fact that he is a week older,” says she informatively.

Of course, what with Jodie being an international singer-songwriter (she was born in Australia and now lives in Buckinghamshire), she’s perfectly suited to such a challenge.

But even the most trained of voices must take a breather and we are thankful that the 36-year-old doesn’t afford her 72-year-old husband the same musical privileges as her son.

Besides, the last thing Des wants to be reminded of is his age every Monday morning.

Just the other day at the National Television Awards, Jodi says Des blushed a deeper shade of orange when Trevor McDonald congratulated him on being a dad again at his “ripe old” age.

For Des, age is just a number – in his case it’s 72 – and he’s keen to be just like any other dad.

“When the baby was born, the odd comment was made about my age,” says the septuagenarian father of Karen (42), Tracy (37), Samantha (35) and Kristina (17), “but I plan to have a kick-around in the garden as soon as he’s old enough.”

That should be when Adam’s about two years-old, which will, incidentally, be when Des is 74, the perfect age to go in goal or warm the substitutes’ bench with a hand-made travel rug spread over his muscular thighs.

“I don’t dwell on the age that is on my passport,” says Des – well, life’s too short. “I’m still surprised when I read the age they say I am.”

But before we have worked out his true vintage, he tells us that before the news of Adam’s birth hit the papers “everyone seemed to think I was about 50”.

Whatever you say, Des, who “everyone” thinks fathered his eldest when he was a youthful eight.

And in another 22 years (when you hit 72), do you still think you’ll be ready for one more little O’Connor?

“I’m one of those people who don’t believe in living your life in the future…” says he. “Life has already brought us so much happiness. What’s the rush?”

Well, we can think of 72 reasons Des. But you take things at whatever pace you can…’

Posted: 19th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Gold Plated

‘WHILE Britons munch roast beef and two veg off the Royal Doulton and the Chinese dine off Ming dynasty china, America eats its Monster Thickburgers off plates with pictures of a Monster Truck on them.

The Queen of Plates

With each bite of the chunky artery-clogging traditional lunch, a little more of modern Americana is exposed.

And if trucks being wrestled by men with necks wider than their heads doesn’t get your juices running, the Franklin Mint can just as easily provide ‘A Doggone Egg-Stravaganza Plate’, which depicts an assortment of dogs dressed up as Easter bunnies.

Not your thing? Then no worries, because the Franklin Mint can just as easily turn its skilled hand to ‘The Little Rascals Franklin Mint Plate – Silly Sultans’. It’s limited edition.

We’d like to mention the entire collection, but there are just too many.

However, when Hello! was invited to look around the home of ‘Franklin Mint billionaires’ Lynda Resnick and her husband Stewart, we grew excited at the prospect of seeing the entire collection in situ.

Their Los Angeles mansion is indeed an emporium of gilded splendour.

It’s as if Lynda and Stew have bought the most expensive thing in the store, then, having asked the dumbstruck shop assistant how to make it more ‘exclusive’, ordered it to be dipped in gold.

Lynda would like to tell us about the history of her empire, the humbly named Resnick Foundation, which, we are told, ‘contributes to many of the projects [Princess] Diana held dear’.

We’d like to tell you how she bought the ‘Elvis dress’, the figure-hugging gown Princess Diana – the face that launched a thousand plates – wore to the Albert Hall in 1989.

And we’d love to let you know about Jackie Kennedy’s pearl earrings which, although fake, Lynda bought for $218,000 at a charity auction.

But we are unable to. We are simply too disappointed by what we see – or, rather, don’t see – to communicate with our normal fluency.

Because when we get to the grand dining room, with its vast highly-polished wooden table, illuminated by a massive overhead chandelier, our eyes blinking like a miner emerging into the light after a long shift underground, we cannot believe what we see.

There on the table are no fewer than eight plates (there are more, but our view is obscured by Lynda and the Chelsea Flower Show that passes for the table’s centrepiece).

And on no plate can we see a picture of a teddy bear in a woolly jumper frolicking in the snow.

On not a single plate is there an image of TV’s The Simpsons hunkering down in front of the telly.

And stare as we do, we cannot for the life of us see the first-ever shamrock-shaped heirloom collector plate, depicting a cosy thatched cottage embellished by the inspirational Irish toast, ‘May the road rise to meet you – may the wind be at your back’ in emerald-green lettering.

But just as we about to cry ‘foul’, we understand. Such fine china as that aforementioned is not for just everyday use – it must be saved for best.

And we are sure that when the sultans, princesses and heads of state come to feast at the Resnicks’ abode, they eat from plates with an image of the crew of the Starship Enterprise saluting ‘They who are about to dine…”

Posted: 19th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Facing The Future

‘WHEN David Beckham had his right foot cast in concrete to promote a spots shop on London’s Oxford Street there was no sign of Posh.

Victoria taking Romeo in for his first pixelation

And that may have been lucky for Dave, because had his wife been there she’d have most probably jumped on his back while an aide attached a ball and chain to his proffered leg.

But Dave’s concrete boots are not the main reason the couple have risen to our attention this week.

Nor is it Dave’s hair, however interesting it is. Just listen: ‘I’ll wake up one day and say, ‘I don’t like the hair today,’ and off it comes. That’s the way I decide what I’m going to do next.’

Fair enough, interesting even, especially if he one day looks at his wife’s head and thinks along the same lines.

But the reason for another mention of Beckham & Co. is that Hello!’s picture of Posh walking along Bond Street with Romeo in tow shows the little love wearing blue jeans.

In itself, this is fascinating and demands many column inches of close coverage. And when we tell you he was wearing a matching a blue jumper with a wavy line on the front, books will be written.

But it’s his face that fixes our gaze. Like Kate Winslet’s newest child a few week’s back, little Romeo has pixelated features.

It is becoming nothing short of a craze. Indeed, we suspect that every ‘normal’ face in showbizville is in fact a mask placed over pixelated face.

So often have these people been photographed that they have actually begun to wear out.

Very soon most children in the celebrity set will have pixelated faces. It will become the norm.

And then it will become the envy of every mother from Essex to Hollywood, who will contact doctors Nip ‘n’ Tuck and demand that their children have their faces surgically ‘blurred’.

Do not doubt it will happen. Watch this space…’

Posted: 19th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Bec To The Future

‘IF your most recent appearance on national television had involved giving hand relief to a pig, then chances are you’d want to focus on the future as well.

”Do you want me to talk dirty as well?”

But for a woman who is, we are told, intent on putting her recent past behind her, Rebecca Loos seems only too happy to discuss the full range of services she offers to farmyard animals.

What is more, as she meets up with OK! to talk over her recent appearance on The Farm, a certain name from her past keeps cropping up in conversation.

Has she snogged fellow The Farm contestant Stan Collymore, OK! asks.

”I’m very careful after the whole David thing,” she replies. ”I’m not going to throw myself into any man’s arms – not that Stan is any man.”

What about Jeff Brazier? Did she fancy him?

”Not at all,” she says. ”He’s like a little brother. But Jeff reminds me of David, probably because they’re both from Essex.”

So, are you looking for love?

”I haven’t had a relationship since David. I met a guy here in the UK, but I’m not ready for anything serious.”

But you do seem to have a bit of a thing for football players…

”Footballers aren’t usually my style and the whole David thing was against type.”

Indeed, so frequent are these references to David that anyone reading the interview might conclude that Rebecca’s only claim to fame was having slept with a footballer called David.

That is far from the case. As we mentioned, Rebecca is just as famous for using the very same techniques that so endeared her to the England football captain on a pig.

And, although she is obviously intent on talking about the future, she does want to set the record straight about that particular chapter in her life.

She wasn’t embarrassed, she says, despite the revelation that it took her 20 minutes to bring the pig to orgasm – a job that can normally be done in just eight.

”Of course, when I was in bed with David…”’

Posted: 15th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Perfect Love Affair

‘REBECCA Loos is not the only person who appears to be incapable of completing a sentence without mentioning the Beckhams.

We can count them for ourselves, Peter

In fact, Jordan is so obsessed with Posh & Becks that she is going to marry a pint-sized Aussie popster purely so she can have a better wedding than them.

”We want it to be a big Disney wedding,” she says of her and Peter Andre’s forthcoming nuptials, ”something that hasn’t been done before.

”I want something that is so over the top, but not like Posh and Becks – that was pathetic.”

Pathetic it might have been but, as OK! paid £1m just for the privilege of being there, Jordan could have chosen her audience more wisely.

”They were on a throne pretending to be a king and queen, but I want a fairy tale,” she adds. ”Like Cinderella, with baby blues and pinks…”

Or Snow White, with Peter as one of the seven dwarfs.

So, what about the first dance? Will they jig around the dance floor to Mysterious Girl? Groove to Insania? Or maybe kick their heels to Tight Fit’s ”In the jungle, the mighty jungle…”?

The answer is none of the above. ”There’s a song by Anita Baker called Perfect Love Affair,” Peter says, ”and the words to that song are amazingly true for us.”

Take it away, Anita…

”Yes, a heart of ice was melting/ And the mountains they did move…”’

Posted: 15th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Breast Intentions

‘WHEN Jordan isn’t talking about the Beckhams, she’s talking about her boobs – or her “assets” as, in view of the fortune they have brought her, she so rightly calls them.

”Cover your ears, they’re talking about you”

And, as we have observed over recent weeks, Jordan is by no means the only celebrity who’s obsessed with her breasts.

Kirtsy Gallacher tells us she wants smaller ones, Big Brother’s Shell tells us she wants bigger ones – and now Lauren Laverne tells us she doesn’t want them at all.

“I’m totally flat-chested, but so was my mum until she had kids,” the DJ tells OK! “I’m terrified that one day I’ll wake up and have boobs for the first time.”

Heidi Klum, however, doesn’t want to talk about her post-pregnancy breasts – she prefers to let them do the talking…in an $8m diamond bra.

She wants to use her interview with OK! to talk about daughter Leni, her pregnancy and the actual birth.

We now know, for instance, that during her pregnancy Heidi “put on weight all over, but mainly on the front” – something of a biological rarity, we believe.

We discover also that, although Heidi wants more children, “not tomorrow”.

And we hear that Heidi didn’t listen to her friends who told her how painful the actual labour was going to be.

“They said things like: ‘It’s horrible – as soon as you get there, ask for the drugs’.”

D’oh! She’s a model – we think she knows the routine…’

Posted: 15th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Cane Not Able

‘AN era has come to an end with the announcement by Marshall’s Amusements that it is to cease production of the legendary Six o’ The Best caning machine, known to generations of schoolboys as the ‘Tuppenny Sixer’.

It is feared the art of caning is being lost in Britain’s schools

The machine was first produced in 1922, and was a prominent feature of every seaside pier in the land. Like most great inventions, it was brilliantly simple.

A mechanical schoolteacher, clad in mortar board and gown, stood brandishing a cane. Behind him, a painted backdrop depicted a typical 1920s classroom. In front of him stood a real school desk.

Customers bent over the desk and inserted coins into a slot on the floor, whereupon the master delivered the advertised ‘six o’ the best’.

The ‘Sixer’ was the brainchild of the company’s founder, Arthur Marshall, who had the idea when he saw a man chastising his young son on the beach at Margate.

‘My heart went out to the poor fellow,’ he recalled later. ‘Here’s this chap who has worked hard all year so he can take his family on a day trip to the seaside, and he has to waste his time punishing his son. I thought to myself, a machine could do that and save him a lot of trouble.’

The Six o’ The Best was an immediate success, but not in the way that Marshall expected. Rather than being used by parents as a simple disciplinary device, it soon became a source of popular entertainment. Punters queued to go on it, and crowds flocked to watch them.

Before long it was a full-blown phenomenon. Competitions were organised to see who could take the most punishment, with prizes and rosettes for the winners. Music hall comedians joked about it, cartoonists lampooned it, and there was even a song – ‘Give Us Another Whack, Jack!’ – penned in its honour.

Within a year of their introduction, the ‘Sixers’ were earning more than £500 a week each, at twopence a time. Even allowing for the cost of replacing broken canes, that meant a very healthy profit.

Marshall’s was generous in its readiness to lend the machines to fetes and charity events, where they raised large sums of money for good causes. During the War, effigies of Hitler were caned in aid of wounded servicemen.

But all good things must come to an end, and the ‘Sixpenny Sixer’ of 1961 cannot match the popularity of its ‘tuppenny’ forbear.

Its retirement comes as no surprise, and it is fitting that the announcement took place at a charity event to celebrate the administering of the 60,000,000th stroke of the famous cane.

(From Anorak November 15 1961)’

Posted: 15th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

On A Jolie

‘HOW close can two people get with out having a full-on unbridled lust-fuelled love affair?

Jen has nothing to worry about

It is a tough question, and looking at Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, and reading the Enquirer’s headline “BRAD AND ANGELINA CAUGHT! GETTING EVEN CLOSER”, it gets no easier to answer.

In the photographs of Brad and Ang on a film shoot in Ravello, the angle of shot makes it infuriatingly hard to see if the stars are actually touching.

They do indeed appear to be close, but not so close as for Brad to be in Ang’s face. Which means they could be closer. And perhaps even closer still if took off their clothes and got naked.

Ooer, and wouldn’t you just credit it but they’ve gone and disrobed. The part demanded nudity and it seems that Brad and Jen have pressed flesh.

“That alone,” as the Enquirer says, would be tough for Jen [Brad’s wife Jennifer Aniston] to deal with, but we hear that it gets worse and intimate photographs of her husband and his on-screen lover were “NOT” part of the movie shoot.

Amazingly, we cannot see these shocking, scandalous stills because by some odd quirk of fate the laptop on which they might be stored has NOT been stolen.

What’s more, a video of Brad and Ang in some kind of unscripted clinch has NOT been copied by builders on the set and then reproduced on the sink of bile and depravity that is the world-wide-web.

This is truly amazing, and bad luck on us who now have to make do with words where what we need are pictures.

So know that they “could have passed for lovers” as they took a break from filming.

And, er, that’s it. But, boy, you should see the pictures!’

Posted: 13th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Fat Chances

‘INSIDE every big-boned American star is a stick-thin walking pencil waiting to eat her way out.

A Kirstie Alley dream sequence

The likes of Rosanne Barr have inspired thousands of wide-hipped women to try and stand up and be counted, to prove that they too can be successful and happy in a world obsessed by thin women.

But as soon as success comes knocking, the cuddly star who put her fans at ease with her massive clothes and specialist sex appeal embarks on a mission to shed some pounds.

Even Kirstie Alley is accused of doing it. The actress, who thanks to her massive girth secured a job on a series called Fat Actress, no sooner got the gig than she began to lose weight.

A pal tells the Enquirer that Alley’s weight loss is not down to dieting of surgery, rather the fact she back working and so busy that she no time to eat.

Which means she’s a fat actress who gets work lamenting the fact that, as a fat actress, she can’t get work, while, in real life, she’s losing weight and so securing a career as something other than the fat actress or the back end of a pantomime zeppelin.

Meanwhile, Oprah Winfrey, who has told millions of American women to love themselves, has said that she now finally loves herself and has stopped dieting.

Apparently, she now weighs only a few more pounds more than she did as a teenager, and, as one insider says, has “transformed…her inner self”.

And, no not with a few staples in her stomach or a tropical worm in her gut but by something called “a learning process”.

And it’s given her a “jaw-dropping” new look. Although, if your own jaw drops too much, best to do as many larger American women do and have it wired shut…’

Posted: 13th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Gruesome Toothsome

‘REMEMBER when the paint manufacturer Dulux told us that white was not always white?

Lie back and think of Monica

There’s white, there’s Michael Jackson white, there’s snow blind white and then there’s the ultimate white – the white dentists in American paint onto their patients’ teeth.

This is a whiteness so pure only nuns and Julie Andrews should be seen in it.

But not everything is perfect in the States. After an extensive study of everyone’s teeth from Miami to Michigan, the Enquirer has found one pair of gnashers that are less than perfect.

No, these teeth were not spotted arriving on a flight from Britain – although it cannot be long before all visitors to the US of A have their teeth checked by immigration in the manner of a Bedouin camel trader examining his new stock.

No, this is an American mouth, and it belongs to a woman who’s spent her life opening and closing it.

It is none other than Hillary Clinton’s maw, and over the course of four stills readers get to be treated to the sight of her magic tooth.

This is not a Celine Dion snaggle tooth, but a molar on Hillary’s left side that disappears and reappears with all the guile of a guilty mistress.

And finally gives us a clue as to what her husband Bill Clinton saw in that neat and blunt-toothed Monica Lewinsky…’

Posted: 13th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Name Dropping

‘POSH people call their children different names from the rest of us.

”Let’s make hyphens”

First, they christen them things like Tamara, Henrietta and Eloise or Edward, Hugh and William.

Then in childhood they give them nicknames like Nonny, Tally and Wills.

Finally, they send them off to boarding school, from which they emerge several years and many thousands of pounds later with their name refined still further to Boo or Blah or Poo.

To be truly posh, not only do you have to refer to your parents as “mummy and daddy”, but they have to address you as they would their favourite cocker spaniel.

EastEnders’ Jessie Wallace should know that you won’t find too many Tallulah Lilacs in Debrett’s or Burke’s Peerage.

And nor unsurprisingly were there too many Tallulah Lilacs at the society wedding of the year between Edward Van Cutsem and Lady Tamara Grosvenor.

There were, however, lots of Davinas and Toms, an Earl Stanley or two, at least one Count Raoul and more Isabellas than you could shake a shooting stick at.

The Windsors put in an appearance, the Westminsters were of course there to support their daughter, the Duckworth-Chads wouldn’t miss out on such a splendid occasion and, well, certainly one Parker-Bowl was to be seen entering Chester Cathedral.

And why not? As Andrew Parker Bowl (formerly one half of the Parker Bowles and a godfather to young Van Cutsem) told Hello!, “Ed’s a lovely chap”.

Nor is Ed just a lovely chap – he and Lady T were this summer ranked seventh in Tatler’s Top 100 social players.

We don’t know the identity of the top six, but we’d hazard a guess that none of them were called Dave, Jessie or even Tallulah Lilac…’

Posted: 10th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Not (Just) A Pretty Face

‘“I’M sure I haven’t got where I am or become who I am today, thanks to my pretty face.”

Teed off

So says 30-year-old Spanish model – and face of Lancome – Ines Sastre, who would also like to pay tribute to her legs, arms, breasts…

But one person who can say that for certain is 41-year-old golfer Colin Montgomerie, whose facial expression was once described as akin to a bulldog chewing a wasp.

His prowess on the golf course is responsible for where he is and who he is today – rich and divorced.

But as his abilities to notch up birdies on the course has waned, it appears that his ability to do the same off the course has increased.

And Hello! is only too happy to speculate as to whether Colin and Ines are an item.

The woman herself is giving nothing away, telling the magazine: “I really don’t think my private life warrants so much attention.”

Hello! disagrees and, subscribing to the adage that a picture is worth 1,000 words, devotes most of the first half of this week’s edition to photos of the golf-mad model.

“I also hope,” Ines adds, “that sooner rather than later common sense prevails on this.”

Well, what does common sense say about a beautiful 30-year-old model and a podgy 41-year-old golfer..?’

Posted: 10th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Perfect Match

‘WHERE Jordan and Peter Andre lead, Kelly Brook and Billy Zane are sure to follow.

Billy Zane

And we see worrying signs of what is surely soon to be a celebrity trend in this week’s Hello! when we catch up with the lovebirds on a stroll round Rochester.

For there is Kelly in black boots, blue jeans, red top, brown jacket and hat walking arm in arm with Billy in black boots, blue jeans, red top, brown jacket and hat…

Hello! calls it “fashionably co-ordinated”; the Sun called it “the height of naffness”; after seeing Jordan and Peter out in matching pink tops, we call it time to nip this little trend in the bud.

However, let all that not detract from the fact that the reason Kelly had taken Billy to Rochester was to meet her parents Ken and Sandra.

So what did they think of the new man in their daughter’s life?

”I’m not allowed to say,” said Ken, dressed in black boots, blue jeans, red top, brown jacket and hat…’

Posted: 10th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | Comment

Fly Away Peter

‘TO prove that Peter Andre is so much more than Jordan’s boyfriend, we’ve removed all the bits in his OK! interview where he talks about his burning love for the glamour model…

‘Don’t worry, Pete, I’ve eaten a maggot before’

We, of course, are no cynics and know full well that Jordan and Peter’s love affair is no publicity stunt.

“We get so much fan mail…” says Peter, “and it’s all wanting me and Kate to be together, but the truth is we are.”

We who know have no need to write in fan letters to the couple’s joint management company, and prefer to let their obvious romance run its course.

And if that leads them up the aisle, then so be it.

“Married?” says Peter incredulously. “No, not yet… I think there’s a lot of stuff made up about me and Kate, but I’m sure we’ll tell you when we’ve got any news.”

That we do not doubt. Or, perhaps, Pete will let us read about it in OK!, the words appearing like pearls between tens of shots of him and her exchanging vows, rings and agents.

As it is, Peter can “categorically” say without any hint of a lie that he and Jordan are not jetting off to the Caribbean to get married.

Although, do not count it out for the future, as Peter tells us to “watch this space”.

He hasn’t picked out a ring or anything for Jordan. But even if he has, he’s not telling us his plans in case his lover reads the magazine and the whole plot is scuppered.

But all that said, let’s now get to the bit where talented Pete is left alone to shine like the tanned, smooth-chested diamond he so certainly is.

So, Peter, leaving aside your love affair Jordan for a moment, what’s going on in your life?

”Er…”’

Posted: 8th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Ladies Who Free Lunch

‘IN this week’s “My Free Lunch”, celebrity letter-turner of no little repute Jenny Powell peruses the menu at “music maestro Paul Mark Fuller’s A-list hangout”.

The A-list

It’s also, as we’ve observed, a place Jenny Powell likes to go on occasion.

And for this three-course meal with drinks, Jenny dined with the restaurateur himself.

“I love fish and shellfish,” says Jenny, “and Garry’s menu (he’s the chef) is famous for both.” How true!

“I’ve just got back from the South of France where Toby and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary, and I think I’m finally getting him into the Mediterranean way of eating.”

Finally! Because until now Tony has been a “beer and curry man” but last week Jenny got him to try a squid and garlic salad, plus bouillabaisse with all the trimmings.

But Toby can’t (or won’t) make it to the fish lunch with Jenny today, which means he misses out on the foie gras terrine with port jelly, the lobster miso and the raspberry soufflé.

And in between mouthfuls, Jenny can’t help but think what the adventurous Toby is missing.

“His brother is a professional rugby player and, although Toby himself doesn’t play, he wants lots of carbohydrates to fill him up without worrying too much about the taste.”

But in between courses of Toby, Jenny likes to partake in a soupcon of Connie, her daughter.

But there will be no siblings for Connie to play with, because being a mum is difficult with a job like Jenny’s

“It’s okay having just one child,” says Jenny, sounding like an official for the Chinese government, “but I don’t want to kill my mum by producing a whole brood for her to look after.”

Of course, Jenny – mum – could try looking after these nippers herself. But she can’t, not really. If she did, there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day to talk about them on TV or in OK!.

And as for lunch, well, you can just forget it…’

Posted: 8th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

In The Family Way

‘WHILE unkind eyes have looked at Tracy Shaw and said she was in need of a good meal and some sobering coffee, the woman herself felt a need for something else.

”We’re expecting twins”

And that something was a baby.

Motherhood would be Tracy’s greatest role to date, it would earn her maximum coverage and lots of exposure (see Tracy in her stripy knickers and cropped top on the cover of this week’s OK!).

The baby would kick open doors to the VIP room and beyond.

A new and confident Tracy would tell us how she had conquered the demons that drove her to eschew food and lap up drink.

With the right inducement, a restored and renewed Tracy might even call her unborn child Anorexia or Jack Daniel, and so be able to talk about both things for years to come with a zesty confidence.

Whatever the role demanded, Tracy would face it head on and with her chest pushed out.

But even she has her limits and Tracy would like it to be known that the father of her unborn baby is not her step-brother – Tracy’s mother and boyfriend Ashley’s father are lovers but they are not married.

And like her mum and her man’s dad, mum and dad-to-be aren’t married either. They are, in Tracy’s words, “in no rush to do anything”.

Indeed, to such an extent is this true that they have decided to wait a thoughtful nine months before becoming parents.

Although, if Ashley wants to pop the question now, after the birth or at some point in between, then Tracy thinks it would be “nice to be husband and wife”.

But Tracy, a woman who’s been engaged more often than the toilet at the Indian Bulimia Society’s annual dinner and dance, does not rule out marriage.

She’s also none too bothered about how her baby will affect her career.

“It’s something that I’ll have to think about but not right now,” says she. “I’m so happy to be where I am [OK! pages 48-63] and I can’t wait to be a mum to our little boy.”

That’s how it should be. But what about the future? Are you nervous, Tracy?

“I’ll go with the flow,” says the former Rear of The Year about the actual birthing process. “I’m looking forward to all my future opportunities, especially my fantastic life with my family.”

And we can’t wait to hear about Tracy’s very close-knit family in scantily-clad and fulfilling detail in the coming months…’

Posted: 8th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Toyboys R Us

‘OLD Mr Anorak has always had a penchant for older women – a fetish that has admittedly become harder to satisfy as with every passing year his birthday cake does a passable impression of St Peter’s at Candlemas.

‘Wrap up warm, darling, otherwise you’ll get a chill’

‘It’s not the how or even how many,’ he would tell us in the days before his seventh stroke so cruelly robbed him of the power of speech, ‘but the how old that counts.’

In this as in so many other things, he was well ahead of his time – where he led some half a century ago, once again Hollywood follows today.

And following Hollywood like a bloodhound at a haemophiliacs’ convention is the National Enquirer, which this week devotes four pages to ‘the latest trend’ among Tinseltown’s sexiest ladies.

To some observers, this may look like a lame excuse to rehash some old pictures of Cameron & Justin, Demi & Ashton, Madonna & Guy, Gwyneth & Chris etc.

But the Enquirer is actually probing a much broader sociological trend – and it enlists the help of relationship expert Dr Gilda Carle to explain the phenomenon.

‘These couples understand they have to deal with differences from the start,’ opines Dr Carle. ‘They respect each other.’

So what, for instance, is Dr Carle’s considered professional opinion of 26-year-old American Pie star Jason Biggs’ relationship with former Playmate Julie Michelle McCullough – 13 years his senior.

‘Oh mommy!’ exclaims the good doctor (in her neo-Freudian argot). ‘He’s probably having a maternal experience.’

And what does she think about this picture of a bikini-clad Cameron Diaz horsing around on the beach with toyboy Justin Timberlake?

‘Er…’

And this one of 37-year-old Pamela Anderson’s breasts going for a stroll along the sand with 26-year-old model Christian Monzon?

‘Crikey…”

Posted: 7th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments

Triple-Ex Star

‘WHEN Christian Monzon and Pamela Anderson’s breasts go their separate ways, the chances are the shaven-headed model will not be on his own for too long.

Jesse sucks on Pam’s old lolly

In fact, before Pammy’s side of the bed is even cold, we can expect to see porn star Jesse Jane sliding in under the sheets beside him.

For, the Enquirer reports that, after dating Pammy’s former husband Tommy Lee this summer, the 24-year-old has now moved on to Pammy’s more recent ex, Kid Rock.

And it seems they have a lot in common.

‘I’m from the country (Texas) and he’s from the country (Michigan),’ explains Jesse – which is a bit like saying ‘I’m from the coast (LA) and he’s from the coast (New York)’ or ‘I’m from a city (Denver) and he’s from a city (Ulan Bator)’…

Anyway, Pammy is understandably not happy – friends say that she doesn’t want ‘an out-and-out porn star’ anywhere near her kids.

[We confess that we’re not experts on porn here at Anorak, but we would have thought ‘out-and-out porn’ is rather defeating the whole object of the genre.]

However, Jesse hit back, telling the Enquirer from Germany (where she was trying to track down Pammy’s 15-year-old high school sweetheart, Hans Orff): ‘I don’t know what her deal is.

‘She’s the one with the porn tape of her and Tommy that’s all over the Internet.’

Some expression about two women with Brazilians fighting over a pubic comb springs to mind…’

Posted: 7th, November 2004 | In: Reviews | 0 Comments