Tabloids Category
The news as told by the UK’s tabloid press – The Sun, Daily Express, Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, Daily Star and News of the World.
Miss Out
“MISS CHEAT BRITAIN,” announces the Mirror’s front page. “Miss GB sacked for fibbing about fling with judge Teddy.”
Teddy is Teddy Sheringham, forty-year-old Premiership footballer. Fitness fanatic Teddy is lover to young and active 22-year-old Miss Great Britain Danielle Lloyd.
But what was the usual story of footballer meets ambitious mo-del is now something else.
The Mail takes up the story. It takes us back to the night of the race to be crowned Miss Great Britain. It is February, and the Mail sees the judges cast their votes. Teddy is a judge and he votes for Danielle. He is the only judge to do so.
Now it’s on to the after show party, at which Danielle and Teddy meet for the first time. Only it isn’t – they have met before the show.
In conversation with Eve magazine, Danielle recalls the day Teddy took her shopping for a Christmas present last year. They are heading to celebrity cobbler Jimmy Choo’s shop in Paddington.
Danielle’s feet are measured in quick-setting plaster. Teddy buys her a £7,000 pair of stilettos.
“Ted says he’ll never forget the sight of me prancing around the room wearing those incredible shoes,” says Danielle.
The Mirror says Danielle was also wearing her pyjamas, a fact missed by the Mail. But if readers want more of an idea of what the footballer might have seen they can turn to the Star and study a picture of Danielle posing in a G-string with an arm pulled across her naked bosom. She is “DANIELLE STRIPPED.”
And she is no longer Miss Great Britain. Event organiser Robert de Keyser tells us: “Like Caesar’s wife, the judging of Miss Great Britain must be above suspicion.”
For this reason the judges at the show include such upstanding citizens as former FA secretary Faria Alam.
So Danielle has been sacked. But Daniel’s agent Max Clifford says it is all a misunderstanding. He tells the Mail: “She thought they were writing an article about what her ideal Christmas present might be. She was just trying to be helpful.”
And run the risk of ruining Teddy’s surprise…
Stomach For Jade
“JADE’S HOSPITAL ORDEAL,” announces the Sun’s front page.
It’s Jade Goody. She’s on the cover of the Sun. And she’s on morphine.
Instantly our minds whirl. Realising the part played by Kate Moss in the undoing of Colombia, we worry that Jade’s links to morphine will glamourise the drug.
If so, it cannot be too long before Afghanistan – where much of the world’s opium and its derivative are produced for cattle feed, hats and matting – is embroiled in war.
That for later. For now, the pain is all Jade’s. The Sun (Jade’s on morphine and she’s terrified”) says that the Big Brother star has collapsed with stomach pains.
A bad kebab? Or something less life threatening? We cannot be sure. And, as the Sun says, Jade is waiting on the results of a barrage of tests.
“Brave” Jade is hoping for good news. As a friend says: “Jade is absolutely terrified and the family are on tenterhooks. We’re all praying it isn’t serious.”
It’s finger crossed for brave/terrified Jade, who has passed the time reading up on the effects of bowel cancer.
But she should be fine. Jade’s lover, one Jack Tweedy, tells the paper: “She’s in there with a stomach complaint. But she will be fine…There is nothing to worry about.”
But we are worried. It’s is for no small thing that Jade ends up in hospital and cancels an appearance on a Weakest Link special.
So the Sun wants its readers to email their best wishes to Jade. The paper will pass them on to her and print the best ones.
And we support the campaign. So send in your good wishes for Jade to editor@anorak.co.uk and we’ll publish the best ones.
A kebab with extra curry sauce for the winners. Two kebabs with extra curry sauce for the losers…
Posted: 3rd, November 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment (1)
Kate Moss Invades
“TO me, it’s baffling that someone who helps cause so much pain in Colombia is doing better then ever,” says Francisco Santos, Colombia’s vice president.
Indeed. Before Kate Moss was filmed in a London recording studio chopping lines of what might have been cocaine, Colombia was an innocent place.
Sure, Colombia was the world’s foremost cultivator of coca and coca derivatives, but the farmers and cartels had no more links with the trade in drugs than Wernher Von Braun could be blamed for where his World War 2 rockets came down.
Post-Kate, Colombia is embroiled in the trafficking of drugs. Large swathes of the countryside are under guerrilla influence
Kate has much to answer for. And Santos would like an apology. Says he: “I never once heard her says ‘I’m sorry’, when in Colombia people die every day because of cocaine consumption – that hurts.”
It is hard not to feel Senor Santos’ pain. What hopes have new incentives in agriculture and ten year integrated transport policies against the power of Kate Moss? None, we’d wager.
But Kate is too busy to say sorry. As the Mail reports, Kate Moss has been named Model of the Year at the British Fashion Awards.
In the word’s of the starry event’s organiser, Kate is the “model who contributed most to the international fashion scene in the past year.”
No arguments with that. It is little over a year since we saw those pictures of Kate at play, and in that time she has become ubiquitous.
Not a day passes without another story of Kate’s model life. Whether she be wearing sunglasses, hiding her spots or triggering a civil war in Colombia, the papers keep us up to speed with Kate’s life.
* Anorak appeared on Sky News yesterday. We spoke of Kate. Colombia was not mentioned.
Camilla’s Remembrance Disservice
ANY advance on five minutes?
When the Spanish capital paused in 2005 for an official five-minute silence to mark the anniversary of the Madrid train bombs, it was hard not to be impressed. See if you can be silent in a crowd of people for five full minutes. And, no, you cannot put on your iPod, read or smoke a contemplative fag.
Grief makes no small demands on our lives. We must not forget. Although does anyone really believe the minds of silent Madrilenos did not wander from the matter in hand over five full minutes?
And while Jose thinks of the weekly shop and the clever retort he should have fired at his work colleague, the Express looks once more at poppies.
Earlier in the week, the paper was aghast and dismayed that Camilla Duchess of Cornwall had removed her poppy because it was chaffing her “Muslim scarf”.
In there eyes of one old war hero, this scarf became a headscarf and the removal of Camilla’s poppy was an affront to the many who have served this country and given their lives for our freedom.
And now the Express reports that Camilla has put her poppy back on. “NOW CAMILLA HIDES POPPY,” says the paper’s front-page headline.
For purposes of identification, the paper rings the plastic root of the poppy with a red circle. The rest of the flower is out of view beneath Camilla’s scarf. “She IS wearing one but you can’t see it under Muslim scarf,” says the paper.
Is she? Or isn’t she? Can there be harmony between the poppy and this “Islamic duppata scarf”?
“Should Camilla always wear her poppy with pride?” asks the Express, inviting its readers to respond via “No” and “Yes” phone numbers to the question that’s more loaded than George Bush at a frat house party.
But isn’t always wearing the poppy a bit extreme, even for Express readers? Today is November 2. It is not yet November 11, Remembrance Day, where many of us wear poppies with pride. On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month?
Meanwhile, the Mail looks at newsreader Huw Edwards, and notes that at the start of Monday’s Ten O’Clock news he was not wearing a poppy. But later in the broadcast he was.
Good for him. And good for the BBC. But when did Remembrance Day stretch to two weeks and become Remembrance Fortnight? And if it has gotten longer, shouldn’t the official period of silence be similarly extended from two minute’s to, say, six?
If it is, we can be the most silent of them all. When it comes to being silent and remembering, we will No.1.
Of course, what we will choose to remember is, for now at least, up to us. And after three minutes of quiet, our thoughts turn to the oven and whether or not we left it on…
Madonna’s Mothers Race
AT first glance, it’s not easy to mistake Madonna and Jane Glaves, a retired teacher who has for six years been making donations to the Home of Hope orphanage in Mchinji, Malawi.
That’s the place that was until very recently home to David Banda. And during her trips to the orphanage Jane became attached to this little boy.
As David Banda’s father Yohane tells the Mail: “The woman’s brother’s name was also David and she sent him pictures of my son and said he was going to come and collect him. We were waiting for them both to come back to the village, but Madonna took him first.”
It was a race. And what chance did Jane, a 70-year-old Canadian grandmother, have against a fit American performer? Madonna, dressed in her conical bra, can breast the finishing line without breaking sweat?
Jane lost. And having regained her breath, she is ready to speak out. Jane says she was perplexed that having put forward the names of children who had nobody, Madonna chose the child with a living parent.
“At first I was angry that Madonna seemed to be able to adopt David so quickly because of the length of time and stress the other two families had to endure,” says Jane. (Jane was involved in the adoptions of twins and a girl, a process that took three years.)
Jane says Madonna “obviously had very good lawyers”.
And Madonna may see fit to call upon the suits to refute Jane’s claims that rather than being ignored by his family, as Madonna has claimed she was told, David’s grandmother was a frequent visitor to the orphanage. So too Davie’s father Yohane.
And here comes Yohane to tell us: “If these people [Jane and her brother] had adopted him, no one would have ever caused this fuss and I could be living my life as normal.”
Poor Yohane. See the noble farmer, tilling the dry onion fields with little to no hope that his son will ever know rare luxury.
And with less hope that and one day David Banda will return to Malawi and adopt his dad…
Posh’s Famine Relief
“SO David, what about the stick after the Argentinian game?” “Oh,” says David Beckham, “she was fine with it.”
The Sun writes the jokes and we tell ‘em.
And the Sun also has a picture of Her Poshness, aka The Stick, being spooked by a person dressed as a ghoul.
Posh, who was, naturally, out shopping at the time, is believed to have looked at the monster’s head-to-toe black outfit and declared it a winning look and if available in a double zero size, she’d take it.
The creep moves off. And is replaced by Vicky’s sister Louise. The Sun looks on as Vicky buys outfits by Stella McCartney, Diana von Furstenberg and Christian Louboutin.
This is what the Star calls Posh’s “8-HOUR BENDER”, a lengthy jaunt during which she spent £25,000 on stuff.
It is, of course, vital that Posh’s movements are documented in print. With her recent trips to Japan, America and now London, husband David, back in Madrid, gets to see his wife every day. Such is the depth and breadth of their love.
And David can know that his wife paused for a glass of champagne in a shoe shop and looked at watches.
She also went into a branch of Oxfam. But after looking through the racks of second-hand clothes, the Star says she failed to make a purchase.
Not so, says the Sun. It claims that Her Poshness DID make a purchase in the charity shop. The Sun says Vicky invested £20 in an old dress.
Meanwhile, over in the Spanish capital, David scratches his head and wonders what to believe? And awaits Posh and the truth…
Best In Shows
THE National Television Awards, rightly billed in the Mirror as the “telly Oscars”, occupy the Mirror’s front page.
The warning is of a “GLITZ ALERT!” And ready and willing to be bedazzled by the orangey glow we turn the page and note that Noel Edmonds and his Deal or No Deal show have won the award for Most Popular Daytime Programme.
In Oscar terms, this is right up there on the glitz-ometer with the Oscar for best technical lighting in a foreign language drama. And we applaud Noel long and loud into the night.
And we learn that Top Gear has scooped the gong for Most Popular Factual Programme. The show’s presenter Jeremy Clarkson has a few words for Richard Hammond, his co-host. Says Clarkson: “Richard knows we’ve won and he’s absolutely thrilled. Now he’s won he thinks he is Napoleon and can conquer all of Europe.”
In his weakened condition, Hammond may even think he looks good in a sky blue silk negligee. The telly awards are less about who wins what as who wear what, or wears the least.
And the Sun leads with a girl called “Emmerdale’s Roxanne”, who dressed in a sky blue silk negligee would not look out of place below a red light in downtown Bucarest.
Other soap babes line up to show that they are blessed with showbiz’s three Ts in abundance. They are all vying for our attention.
Perhaps one day of these fine actresses can be like Coronation Street “legend” Julie Goodyear and tell the world, via the Mirror’s pages: “The day I found out that Pat Phoenix didn’t like wearing knickers”.
It’s the dream…
Get EU
WITH bird flu waiting in the wings and politicians producing much hot air over global warming, we realise that both the big environmental stories lack a human face.
Until a Briton is struck low by the HN51 virus (a celebrity victim like Keith Harris would really bring the message home) or Tony Blair swims into an iceberg in Barbados, the general hoi polloi will be less than gripped with tales of killer birds and mankind-ending warm air.
This is not the case with the other great threat facing Britain: the Romanians and Bulgarians. As the Sun’s front page says: “EU’VE HAD IT.”
These Rogarians do, of course, have a human face. It is uniformly unshaven and sat atop a body swathed in yellowy manmade fibres. This ensemble is right now stood at an East European port waiting for New Year’s Day 2007 when the barriers come down and with the cry “I’m A Rogarian…Get Me Out Of Here!” the invasion begins.
And this is not all. Inside the Sun’s front page, comes a chilling headline: “ROMANIANS COMMIT 85% OF CRIME AT CASHPOINTS.”
It is shocking stuff. But so long as you avoid cash machines, you stand a decent chance of not falling victim to a Rogarian criminal. Although be aware that the 15 per cent of Rogarians who don’t commit their crimes at cashpoints may well get you later.
This news comes in a Government “secret memo”. Referring to the accession of the two countries as “A2”, their impact upon the EU has been assessed at the highest level.
The dossier, compiled by Immigration Minister Liam Byrne and EU Minister Geoff Hoon, says: “There is a concern that free movement will encourage people from Bulgaria and Romania to come to the UK, some of whom may be drawn towards organised criminal activity already well established in the UK.”
Of dear. But perhaps if John Reid, the Home Secretary, could see fit to treat Rogarians like, say, Poles and not place a cap of 22,000 on the number of them who work here legally, less would feel inclined to work here illegally?
“STREET VIOLENCE,” yells the Sun.
Why should there be one rule for Rogarians and another for everyone else?
“PEOPLE AND SEX TRAFFICKING,” the Sun screams.
It’s not as if Briton is crime free. Aren’t there plenty of British criminals? And some of them – whisper it – commit crime while overseas?
“FRAUD,” barks the paper.
Counterfeit fags? Are fake ciggies going to bring the country to its knees?
“FORGERY AND DECEPTION,” announces the paper.
You mean white collar crime? Tens and hundreds of millions lost and made in questionable investment schemes, insider share dealing and convoluted pension plans?
Not really. The Sun says the Government is concerned that Rogarian travel documents “will be increasingly targeted for fraudulent use”.
That’s right. They’ll be sold to Albanians!
Life & Art
ELISABETH Hasselbeck, who started out as a Survivor: Australian Outback cutie and wound up as the dim conservative prig and now Rosie O’Donnell’s whipping girl on The View, got herself in the news this week by going after Law & Order: SVU because the show named a raped and murdered character “Elizabeth Hassenback.”
Little Lizzie said the stunt was “socially irresponsible and gruesomely suggestive, “disrespected” her and put her “at risk,” and called SVU executive producer Neal Baer to complain. She said that before Baer hung up on her, he claimed that any similarity between Elizabeth Hassenback and Elisabeth Hasselbeck was purely a coincidence.
Coincidence? Our source at SVU says there’s no way it’s a coincidence.
“That’s like having a character named ‘President Bushed.’ They definitely knew what they were doing,” he or she told Tabloid Baby last night. “Law & Order is scrupulous about making sure they don’t use anyone’s name as a character– especially not someone who’s famous. Whenever we use a name on the show, we have people who check. If there are even five people in New York with the same name, they don’t use the name. To use a celebrity’s name like that? It’s a joke.”
So why would they do it? “Dick Wolf is the ‘law & order’ guy around here. But Neil Baer and all his writers are liberals. She’s a conservative. Why not have her raped and murdered? Real funny.
“Neal Baer hates unscripted television, and he probably doesn’t like the woman because she became a star on Survivor. He’s also a liberal medical doctor and I bet she’s against stem cell research. ”
Well, it went on from there.
Most people we spoke to think Lizzie has a point. But leave it to a right wing crackpot to blow the sympathy vote. We’re more concerned that Elizabeth threatened to retaliate in the most chilling manner, telling Baer she wouldn’t allow SVU actors on The View (leading him to say “Goodbye, lady,” and hang up), and then threatening a Law & Order boycott on the air.
Her producers ought to throw her off the show for saying that.
What do you think?
www.tabloidbaby.com
Park & Ride
“FEDRWCH chji ddeud writhai faint mae’r maes parcio yn gostio, os gwelch yn dda?”
That question to you, the car park attendant at the Royal Victoria Hotel in Llanberis, Snowdonia.
The answer is “£2”. And it is correct.
Now look on as the question is put to our man in the little peaked hat in English. “Can you tell me how much your car park costs, please?” You may care to throw a “my good man”, if you chose.
“Yes,” says the attendant. “£4 – it’s half-price for Welsh people.”
Aran Jones, chief executive of the Welsh rights pressure group Cymuned, tells the paper: “This attendant needs congratulating, without a doubt.”
He continues: “The idea for charging local people lower prices for local facilities is not uncommon in other parts of the world,” says he. “I am 100 per cent in favour of making measures like this more wide-spread across the region.”
It is a noble aim. But there is a problem: how local is local?
What about a full discount for actual bona fide Welshmen and, say, 10 per cent off for anyone who owns a copy of Max Boyce Poem and Pints Vol 1?
More thought is needed…
Pull The Other One
CALL Jonathan Ross.
It is the ongoing matter of UK celebrities versus Heather Mills. And the court summons Jonathan Ross to the dock at the Q Awards.
Before a room of her peers, Ross announced: “Heather Mills McCartney – what a f***ing liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if we found she’s actually got two legs.”
“OWWIBLE!” says the Mirror’s headline, the legend based on Ross’s comment and his apparent inability to begin and end words in the received manner. (If you have ever heard Ross pronounce his “Rs” correctly do get in touch.)
The paper says Ross has been “slammed” for “tastelessly mocking” disabled Heather at the awards do.
John Pring, of the magazine Disability Now, says: “Jokes at the expense of the disabled upset lots of people.”
But not Ross’ audience of pop starts and their people. As the Mail says, Ross received “roars of approval” for his “rant”. His comments “went down a storm”, says the paper.
A source said to be close to Paul McCartney (and who, apart from Heather isn’t?) senses a “groundswell of support from everyone at the awards”.
That’s just marvellous. What better bunch to fight your corner then current and former drug addicts, drunks, the self-aggrandizing, back slapping and vainglorious members of Britain’s pop music community?
Heather should take heart. As character witnesses, this lot are on her side…
Fighting Talk
MORE Royal news now as we learn that Prince William has lost his gun.
“Wills loses a machine gun,” says the Mail’s front page. And in case you happen along the lost firearm, the Mail produces a shot of William holding a gun believed to very much like the one he has lost. It is an L86 Light Support Weapon. It can fire 775 rounds a minute.
Many a brave and gallant soldier has lost a firearm in the white heat of battle. But we are more than little concerned to learn that Wills lost his gun “during firing practice”.
In an instant our mind transports us to the Royal Military Academy near Camberley, Surrey. We see the ranks of soldiers lined up to lay waste to the enemy. “Fire!” comes the order. “Bang!” screams William. Or “bang-bang-bang-bang etc”, what with his being a machine gun.
Of course, Wills may be lampooning the state of British Army munitions and supplies, to wit those non-firing guns.
But whatever his explanation, the Mail says the lost gun places in jeopardy Wills’ position as favourite to win the coveted Sword of Honour. It is awarded to the outstanding student, and though losing your gun is outstanding, it not outstanding in the right sort of way.
But Wills should not be too downhearted. As with the gun, he can imagine he has in his hand a silvery sword.
And he’ll run through any bugger who says otherwise…
Camilla’s Poppycock-up
“‘ISLAMIC’ CAMILLA DUMPS POPPY,” announces the Express’ front page.
The Duchess of Cornwall has been “accused of insulting British servicemen after removing a Remembrance Day poppy,” adds the paper.
This red plastic poppy was not worn between Camilla’s teeth nor was it draped rakishly over one ear or pushed through an earlobe but attached to the breast of her cream trouser suit. Camilla is on a tour of Pakistan and wants to look her best. But that poppy is ruining the ensemble.
The poppy has to go. A senior royal aide tells the paper: “It was catching on her scarf so she was advised it was best to take it off.” The scarf? “She was advised it was better to wear the scarf rather than the poppy.”
For the record, the scarf is cream in colour. As the Express notes, it is a cashmere “Islamic-style” dupatta scarf, “warn to show respect for the traditions of her Muslim, host.”
And to the Express it is emblematic of a deeper problem. “Emblem of our heroes gets in way of her Muslim scarf,” says the front-page. This is not any scarf. This is a Muslim scarf.
We have long laboured under the belief that all scarves are born with a tabula rasa; they are not defined by the religion or beliefs of their parent sheep or, as is the case with cashmere, goat.
The very idea of Muslims scarf makes us look at clothes with a keener eye. And while we size up Prince Charles’ Buddhist suit and Calvinist tie, the Express hears from the offended.
John Clarke MBE, vice present of a Royal British Legion branch and secretary of the Monte Casino Veterans’ Association, is “absolutely disgusted”.
Says he: “I am a proud old soldier who is a proud royalist, but this makes me so angry…To snub us for the headscarf is an insult for anyone, let alone someone in her position.”
Indeed. But what was that about a headscarf? Surely, he means scarf? But no matter. Mr Clarke is 83. He sells poppies in a supermarket near his home in Chorlton, Manchester, and if he says it’s a headscarf, then so be it. Didn’t he fight a war for the right to call a scarf a headscarf if he wanted to?
And, in any case, the scarf is not Camilla’s biggest fashion statement. “Haven’t we seen that look before, Camilla,” asks the Mail. This is a rhetorical question, as the Mail positions a picture of Camilla dressed in shalwar kameez of a style not unlike that won by her predecessor Princess Diana in 1996.
The Mail finds it “impossible” not the draw comparisons between Camilla and Di. And Camilla comes out of quite well, being labelled “elegant”.
Not that she’ll ever be England’s rose, let alone its poppy…
David Banda Leaves
DAVID Banda has gone.
But before we scour the streets and gin houses of old London Town for news of Davie Twist, the Mirror announces: “DAVID ON TOUR.”
Davie has not been kidnapped. He’s been taken to New York. On an aeroplane.
Another day and another continent for young Twist, as Madge arrives in America for a series of TV interviews. The Mirror tells us that Madge will appear on the Today Show and later Regis & Kelly, a show ominously described as “the American version of Des and Mel”.
The paper also says that in the course of her tour, Madonna will be promoting her children’s book English Roses: Too Good To Be True, The Malawi Boy’s Progress.
All is going well for Madonna and young Davie Twist. But the Mail hears a “close friend” say that the adoption is putting pressure on the singer’s marriage to Guy Ritchie.
“She has been rowing non-stop with Guy over this whole issue,” says the source.
It seems that Guy is producing a documentary about Madonna’s time in Malawi. She wants it out there but he says it’s not ready. Guy’s in the workhouse.
But why worry? Come on, what harm has been done?
Cheer up. There is nothing like a song to lighten the mood. And while we await the movie of Desperately Seeking Approval and the safe return of Davie we sing:
You can go, but be back soon.
You can go, but while you’re working
This place, I’m pacing ’round
Until you’re home, safe and sound…”
Wings & A Prayer
JOHN Lennon has yet to comment. And George Harrison does not wish to take sides. But Linda McCartney is back, and she’s setting out to prove that Heather Mills is a liar.
The Sun, no fan of Lady “Mucca”, says Heather Mills’ “far-fetched claims” that Paul McCartney hit his late wife Linda are “rebutted – in the words of Linda herself”.
Dim the lights. Form a circle. Hold hands. And listen up as Linda wades into the debate.
“Paul’s biggest fault is that he is so sensitive to criticism,” says Linda, perhaps adding a ghostly whoooooo! (It is Halloween).
“It never ceases to amaze me… When Paul dies, the critics will praise him to the heights. Until then, they will carry on criticising.”
She then goes on to talk about their first meeting at the Bag O’Nails club, where Georgie Fame was playing. “It was instant attraction, but not love at first sight.”
Soon they were living together. Then they were married, although Linda is “too embarrassed” to say how Paul proposed to her.
“We live in a two-bedroom cottage in Sussex,” says Linda. She, Paul, Linda’s daughter Heather from her first marriage, and the couple’s three children live “on top of one another”.
Linda tells us that she sings out of tune, hardly the most shocking revelation.
And that’s pretty much it. No mention of rows or fights. But, then, there is not much mention of anything. How does this rebut Heather Mills’ claims of domestic abuse?
But while the Sun makes no attempt to explain, the Mail hears from Peter Cox (alive), the man in possession of the “Linda Tapes”.
As Heather Mills considers a Princess Diana-style TV interview, Cox tells us of the moments when Linda “would feel deeply unhappy and depressed about her marriage”.
She considered leaving Paul. Cox says Paul had “a darker side”. “He bossed her around and kept her on a tight leash – like a caged animal.”
Of course, this is not Linda talking. But now she is free to tell us all, perhaps she will enlarge on these claims…
Tony Blair’s Hot Air
TONY Blair is writing in the Sun. And he’s issuing an ultimatum: “Pay up or the planet gets it.”
The madman would destroy us all! Tony’s weather machine can do its damndest but surely in killing the planet he kills everyone, not just veil wearers, Tories and fat people.
Tony wants to explain. “TONY BLAIR WRITES FOR THE SUN,” says the headline. But he should not give up his day job just yet (no chance of that).
Tony lacks the necessary grasp on tabloidese. Instead of “Phwoooarrrr!!! Wot a scorcher” and Tony enthusing about how global warming will lead to bikinis all round, we get pros as dry as a British summer.
“Today the Government will publish the most important report on the future which I have received since becoming Prime Minister,” writes Tony.
What? More important than John Prescott’s integrated transport policy and Euan’s school report? This must be very important. The Sun’s customary tales of celebrity drug takers and telly can wait a while.
Go on, Tony, we’re listening. “The Stern report should be seen across the globe as the final word on why the world must act now to limit the damage we are doing to our planet,” says Tony.
It should be? But given the nature of world affairs – wars and such like – it’s unlikely the planet will unite behind a report written by Sir Nicholas Stern, a distinguished British development economist and former chief economist at the World Bank.
But Tony is hopeful. He speaks of a “concerted global effort”, and a “massive injection of funding”. Yes, he wants your money. As the sun’s front page says: “PM SIGNALS GREEN TAX BLITZ – I’m saving the world…YOU lot are paying.”
You see, the way to save the planet is to raise money. And the best way of doing that is through taxes. Beneath the headline “£1,000 green tax for every family”, the Mail says we can all expect to pay more for motoring, air travel, consumer goods and rubbish collection.
And we can all do our bit. As the Mail says, should Tory leader David Cameron get into No.10 we can look forward to his putting a wind turbine and loft panels on the roof. That’s if he gets planning permission.
And anyone buying Cameron’s vacated home in Kensington can make full use of the home’s soon-to-be installed thermal solar panels, wind turbine, rainwater recycling tub and a filtering system that transfers bath water to the washing machine. Cameron’s keeping the washing machine – the relentless sun hasn’t driven him totally mad.
And you too can do your bit to cut down what the Mirror calls your “Carbon Elephant” (this is the amount of carbon you generate).
Tips to tame the elephant include: turning off your TV; using a clothes line and not a dryer; turning down your heating and putting a jumper on; buying old clothes; walking more; trying not to breathe too much.”
But if you can’t mange that, not to worry. As Tony says: “…this is a problem which will be solved at a global, not domestic level.”
It’s not us. It’s them.
Phew!
Linda McCartney’s Back
YOU’VE heard from Cilla Black, Rod Stewart, Billie Piper and Kate Moss – now listen up as Linda McCartney wades into the McCartney-Mills divorce.
Until now this divorce, however sensational, had been strictly Earth-bound. Now the Mirror adds a supernatural twist to the proceedings and calls Linda to the stand.
There’s the faintest whiff of vegetable lasagne in the air as the Mirror leads with: “MACCA GAGS LINDA TAPES.”
It turns out that before she died in 1998, Linda McCartney, Paul’s first wife, recorded details of her life with Paul on 15 tapes.
Why she should do this is a moot point. But they are out there. And the Mirror says it is “understood they shed an alternative light on her ‘golden’ relationship’” with Paul.
How this is “understood”, the Mirror does not say. But the Mirror is an unusually understanding paper and also says that Linda and Paul’s 29-year marriage was “always understood to be one of showbiz’s strongest”.
Again, we are not told why this is understood. But Linda’s thoughts are on record. And the current keeper of 20 hours of Linda’s “most intimate thoughts” is Peter Cox, former chief executive of the vegetarian society.
An unnamed friend of Heather says the tapes may be “crucial” in any divorce proceedings. In what way? We are not told. In any case, we will not hear them – Cox has been sworn to secrecy by Paul’s management company.
And here is Paul, or what’s left of him. “Gaunt, red-eyed and haggard…divorce takes its toll on Macca,” says the Sun’s headline. There’s a picture of Paul walking home from the pub. He is “dishevelled,” says the Mail.
And now he speaks. Says Paul: “I’m just hoping for a happy resolution, particularly for the sake of our beautiful daughter, Beatrice, and my other children, who are all beautiful. Fingers crossed.”
And wallets open.
Posted: 27th, October 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment (1)
Naomi Campbell Takes On Heather Mills
“IT’S NUTTA versus MUCCA,” says the Sun’s headline above pictures of Naomi Campbell and Heather Mills, respectively.
“Who is the biggest bitch on the planet…Naomi or Heather?”
We always thought the biggest bitch was Joan Collins. But the Sun makes no mention of Collins, and we are forced to choose between Campbell and Mills.
And not wishing to do either woman a disservice, we consider the evidence for each.
Mills we know about. But what of Campbell, the “sour-faced clothes horse with a manic glint in her eye”?
The Mail profiles the model who was arrested earlier in the week on suspicion of causing actual bodily harm. A woman attended a police station in Belgravia with “blood-red scratches” on one cheek. She claims Campbell attacked her.
Police invited Campbell to the station to answer some questions. But what with the model’s jet lag they had to wait 12 hours for her to become compos mentis.
That’s if it was jet lag? Over in the Mirror, we learn that officers suspected Naomi was on something stronger than high altitude air and musak. They suspected she was drunk and put her in a cell to sober up.
As a source tells the paper: “A doctor was called. It was debated if she should go to hospital but it was decided to allow her to sleep in the cells.”
The Star contests this with the jet-lag defence. And reveals that the alleged victim of Campbell’s ire was her drugs counsellor.
Meanwhile, over in America, Campbell is said by her lawyer, David Breitbart, to be struggling to renew her American visa. Due in New York to answer the allegation that she attacked her maid Ana Scolavino, Campbell has to return for the court date on November 15.
She has already failed to attend one hearing in September and, as the Sun, says, a repeat no-show will lead to her arrest.
It is complicated stuff. Who still says the life of a model is simply walking up and down, standing still and walking up and down some more? Well, we do. But Campbell is so much more than a model. She is a model on bail.
But is she the world’s biggest bitch..?
Adopt A Madonna
ANORAK’S plan to adopt Madonna is progressing well.
The American is adapting to life in London and she is beginning to consider herself part of the family.
But, sad to say, her actions have attracted the attentions of the local wooden tops. And in the Sun, we read: “Copper don’t preach.”
Detective Inspector John McFarlane is addressing a meeting of his peers. The subject is tackling street crime. There are reports that many gentleman in the Wandsworth area of London had had their pockets pinched for handkerchiefs.
Officers were discussing an Adopt-A-Robber scheme. DI McFarlane told the assembled policemen that it might be a better idea to get Madonna to adopt them all.
There was mush inhaling of breath. Not least of all from the officer who noted that Madonna’s adopted African son, the young David Banda, is black.
This colleague complained, saying DI McFarlane’s remarks implied all robbers must be black.
As they might all be 13-monmths old, African and in possession of a getaway vehicle shaped like a wooden rocking horse.
This will not do. A police insider tells the paper: “The DI was mortified when he was accused of racism.”
Indeed. Mortification may well be too good for such likes. And we urge other officers to take note.
Hasselhoff’s Turd
FORGET Paul McCartney versus Heather Mills. If you want to see a marriage really implode, you have to travel back to the time of Henry VIII, or to modern day America.
In what it claims as an exclusive, the Sun takes a look at the divorce of David Hasselhoff and Pamela Bach.
The case against The Hoff can be summed up in the Sun’s teaser: “Star ‘beat wife, gave her herpes and peed his pants.”
We have no shots of this alleged wife beating and herpes, but the Sun does reproduce that picture from last July of Hasselhoff waiting for a flight with a noticeable wet path on the crotch of his jeans.
At the time we believed this wetness had been caused by The Hoff pulling his jeans over his wet swimming trucks. We even advised that in future Hasselhoff may care to wear his trunks on the outside of his trousers in a manner more befitting his status. But now we open our minds to a new interpretation.
And here is Bach to tell all. “He often hit me, pushed me around and threw things at me in a drunken rage,” claims the estranged wife in court papers.
She claims Hoff has “abused alcohol and drugs for over 16 years”. And: “He frequently loses control of his bladder and bowels, urinating and defecating himself.”
(We cannot comment on the validity of this claim, only say that it is on record. And note that as a life saver of no little repute, The Hoff is likely to be au fait with the need to help rescue boats and helicopters locate a lifesaver. With no buoy to hand a floating turd is an approved Californian lifesaving technique.)
And there is more. Bach claims The Hoff “physically abused” the couple’s three children. “He has slapped the girls on their a***s while intoxicated and on several occasions laid naked with them on their bed.”
Er… “He has screamed at Hayley. He called Hayley a c***, slut, bitch and a whore.”
Now over to The Hoff, who says he no longer has a drink problem. And, in any case, it’s his wife who’s the bad parent.
He recalls daughter Taylor Ann’s birthday and how Bach was “either intoxicated or on drugs”. The Star sums up The Hoff’s view of Bach in the headline: “Hoff: My wife is a coked up, boozed up, bunny boiler!”
Bach denies this. She says it just “confirms more and more how really sick he is”.
Meanwhile, over in the UK, Heather Mills searches for a bedpan…
Posted: 27th, October 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment (1)
Get Em Hoff!
WHEN Richard Hammond attempted to drive from Elvington airfield, near York, to Australia the hard way, the papers looked on with furrowed brows.
Would Richard make it? Would Top Gear, the TV show he presents, be cancelled? Would he add his name to the list of celebrities to have died on camera – Tommy Copper, Steve Irwin, Anthea Turner?
Well, now the questions get answered. And while the Sun talked of Hammond’s new £2million contract with the BBC, his short-term memory loss and how he said the show must go on, the Mirror led its news coverage with “The day I died.”
Hammond’s was a slow near-death experience. It went on for pages. The presenter who had put his life on the line for the noble cause of good telly was in danger of rambling.
Hours past. Then days. Monday turned into Tuesday. And Tuesday brought front-page news of “THE WIFE’S STORY”. Mindy Hammond was filing in the blanks.
Together the Hammonds were taking up a large chunk of the Mirror’s news coverage.
The story of the phantom “poo pest” was easy to miss. A man was wanted in connection with £60,000 worth of damage to trains.
“His modus operandi is to wait until he is alone before defecating in the carriage and smearing seats and walls,” said the paper.
Who was he? The new enfant terrible of the British art scene, taking over from where Chris Ofili’s elephant poo pictures and Tracey Emin’s dirty sheets left off?
A disgruntled commuter out to show the greater world what the inside of the toilets aboard a train look like? A cleaner looking for work?
If you see this man, do not approach him. Instead bury your head in your newspaper, and so learn more of Richard Hammond’s fight for life.
And on Wednesday “daredevil” Richard was “desperate” to start driving again. “The only lesson that’s come out of this is to be careful,” said Richard. “And we were. I am, anyway.”
Indeed, what could be more careful for a married father of two than to strap himself into a jet-propelled car for a TV show? “If we didn’t take safety seriously I would not longer be here,” he adds.
So Richard lives to drive again. “We’ll be back as soon as we can,” he said. “We’ve got to – it’s a matter of falling off a horse and getting back on.”
Well, not really. But we should not judge Richard. This is “RICHARD HAMMOND: BACK FROM THE DEAD”, as the Mirror’s headline screamed every day. If he thinks a horse is a car, then so be it.
In any case, likeable Richard’s just one of the lads. He’s Top Gear’s top bloke. Said Hammond: “I was so out of it I’d no idea of the amazing public reaction to my crash. They identify with me because I’m a normal bloke..like a mate that’s been hurt rather than some big celebrity.”
Yes Richard. Of course Richard. You rest up Richard. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.
But we didn’t. Instead, on Thursday we read more about Madonna. Was she turning into the new Carol Jackson, the former EastEnders character, mother to a brood of which no two have the same father.
The Express listened in as Madonna the soap opera told Oprah Winfrey and the people of America why she had adopted Davie.
“I became transfixed by him,” said the singer. “But I didn’t yet know I was going to adopt him. I was drawn to him.”
There then followed what can best be described as a miracle adoption. Just as no birth in showbiz circles is anything less than a drama full of soaring highs, unbearable lows and cliffhangers, the celebrity adoption is a time to stress and crisis.
And there was the boy at the centre of the “ADOPTION ROW” in the Sun. He was being held aloft by Madonna’s husband, Guy Ritchie. He was smiling. Davie was dancing with Rocco. He was smiling. Davie was in Madonna’s arms. He was smiling. Davie never stops smiling. It’s a miracle.
But we cannot all be as happy as Madonna and her family. We cannot smile all of the time – eventually the drugs wear off.
Not that David Hasselhoff is on drugs. It’s just that The Hoff’s estranged wife, Pamela Bach, says he has taken them.
The case against The Hoff was summed up by the Sun’s teaser: “Star ‘beat wife, gave her herpes and peed his pants.”
She claimed Hoff had “abused alcohol and drugs for over 16 years”. And: “He frequently loses control of his bladder and bowels, urinating and defecating himself.”
(We cannot comment on the validity of this claim, only say that it is on record. And note that as a life saver of no little repute, The Hoff is likely to be au fait with the need to help rescue boats and helicopters locate a lifesaver. With no buoy to hand a floating turd is an approved Californian lifesaving technique.)
Meanwhile, the Star summed up The Hoff’s view of Bach in the headline: “Hoff: My wife is a coked up, boozed up, bunny boiler!”
Forget Macca v Mucca, this is the nastiest divorce on show. It’s as dirty as it gets. So much for Paul McCartney not getting Heather Mill’s an antique bedpan.
Just get a load of The Hoff’s pants…
One From The Top
“HOW do you feel?” asks the doctor peering over the bed of his recovering patient.
“I don’t normally do requests, unless I’m asked to,” comes the reply. “Have you seen the new James Bond film? It’s called Dire Puns Are Forever. See you after the break. Carol.”
The patient is the lucky recipient of two corneas taken from the eyes of timed-out Countdown host Richard Whiteley. And the concern is that the recipient has inherited some of the donor’s personality.
For now though, the Express is unable to speak to the two patients who have been helped by Whiteley, and hears from Kathryn Apoaniwicz, Whiteley’s partner.
Says she: “I’ve always been a firm believer that if you’re willing to receive a transplant you should be willing to donate. Richard felt the same way.”
Over at the Sun (“Richard Whiteley gave us his eyes”), the paper is desperate to know who is now seeing the world through the TV presenter’s eyes.
“Do you know who got Richard’s corneas?” asks the paper in smallish print. “Have you got Whiteley’s eyes. If so call us.” You can also call or text the Sun.
But it might not be that hard to see the wearers of Whitley’s corneas. The Mail brings news of the first “British face swop” (sic). The world’s full face transplant is to take place in the UK in the next few months.
One from the top, please Carol…
Madonna’s An EastEnder
IS Madonna the new Carol Jackson, the former EastEnders character, mother to a brood of which no two have the same father?
Whatever the singer’s ambition, the Mirror leads with a lovely picture of Madonna and her three children. It’s the “MADONNA & CHILDREN”. It’s our chance to “Meet the family”.
For those of you unable to see the image, the Mirror describes it thus: “Madonna’s baby David Banda is one of the family in a photo shown on TV last night. She gazes lovingly at him while hugging her other kids Rocco and Lourdes.”
The same picture is published in the Express. And the paper listens in as Madonna tells Oprah Winfrey and the people of America why she adopted Davie.
“I became transfixed by him,” says she. “But I didn’t yet know I was going to adopt him. I was drawn to him.”
There then follows what can best be described as a miracle adoption. Just as no birth in showbiz circles is anything less than a drama full of soaring highs, unbearable lows and cliffhangers, the celebrity adoption is a time to stress and crisis.
The Mirror hears Madonna tell Oprah that Davie was extremely ill” when she met him. “I was in a panic because I didn’t want to leave him in the orphanage because I knew they didn’t have the medication to take care of him.”
She took him to a clinic. A bronchial dilator was placed on him. Davie was injected with antibiotics. He is still “a little bit ill”. But he is “much better” than when Madonna found him.
The Sun sees “emotional Madonna” blink back tears. And it adds the spectre of AIDS. As the Star’s front page says: “MADGE BABY IN AIDS SHOCK.”
Davie does not have AIDS. But his mother, brother and sister all died succumbed to the disease. And in the Sun, we learn that three and not two of Davie’s siblings died of AIDS.
And there is the boy at the centre of the “ADOPTION ROW”. He’s being held aloft by Madonna’s husband Guy Ritchie. He’s smiling. Davie’s dancing with Rocco. He’s smiling. Davie’s in Madonna’s arms. He’s smiling.
Davie never stops smiling. It’s a miracle…
Rod Stewart Wallops McCartney
HAVING secured the support of Cilla Black, actor Victor Spinetti and Kate Moss, the Star brings news that other are lining up to stand by Paul McCartney.
“WALLOP HER!” says the headline above the news that Rod Stewart has pinned his tartan colours to Paul’s mast.
Say twice-divorced Rod: “I am sure that Paul is not a wife beater. He may be a drug-taker but is no wife beater.”
Rod goes on: “His name has been slurred [that must be the drugs] and I think he should fight it all the way.”
Rod, spotted in the Sun dressed in a pin-striped suit with matching hat and tartan scarf issues a wake-up call to all but the dead. Now seen in conjunction with his fiancée Penny Lancaster, and her leopard-print coat, McCartney must surely sit up and take notice of Rod.
And if Rod is not enough, there are others. And the Star hears another celebrity state her support for Paul. It’s Billie Piper.
“It’s horrible,” says Billie. “You do start to hate Heather don’t you. It’s awful.”
And truly it is. While Paul can lean on some of the leading lights in British light entertainment, Heather fights alone.
And in seeing the two sides, the tide of public opinion may soon start to shift. It might just be that McCartney is but a celebrity endorsement away from being as mistrusted as his estranged wife.
If Heather wants to get the British public on her side, she could just get Victoria Beckham to sate her support for McCartney. Or Peter Sringfellow. Or ‘H’ from Steps…
Crewel Luck
“THE role of the modern Member of Parliament has changed a great deal in recent years,” says Greg Barker, MP for Bexhill and Battle, on his website.
He goes on to say that “I am also very active locally” and invites locals to “get in touch”.
The sticky fingers of adolescence are never far from UK politics, and, as the Mail reports on its front page, Mr Barker has left his wife of 14 years for a decorator.
Inside the paper, the decorator has been elevated to the status of “interior designer”. Perhaps losing her man to a decorator is too hard for Celeste Barker, Barker’s wife and mother to their three children? An interior designer is much more the ticket. Better still if Celeste could lose Barker to a leading light in the British aubusson movement.
But whatever the profession of the mistress, Celeste, described by one source as “your typical, loyal Conservative wife”, will surely find it hard to accept that she has been left for a man.
“She is completely devastated,” says the source. “It came completely out of the blue. Nobody had any idea that Barker was gay.”
Nobody? We can think of at least two people who had a pretty fair idea that the honourable member had gone the gay way.
And the Mail catches up with one of them, namely Barker. He says that he remains on “good terms” with his wife. “It’s a private matter. We separated in July, we are on very good terms.”
So that’s that. Barker is right, it is a private matter. What should we care that an MP is gay? There are many gay MPs, doubtless more than we can name here.
But not everyone is as enlightened. And over in the Mirror (“TOP TORY DUMPS WIFE FOR MAN”), the paper has a few words with Barker’s mother-in-law.
Beneath a picture of Greg at his London flat, where he is now staying, Georgina Harrison tells us what she thinks of the Shadow Environment Minister.
“Of course,” says she, “it’s not a shock. It’s sad – but these days it’s not really unusual any more. It’s modern life, isn’t it? Men seem to think they can get away with it now.”
And..? And that’s it. No mention of a “moment of madness”, no apology for “errors of judgement in personal behaviour”, no dutiful wife standing by her man at the gate to the family home.
The mother-in-law is right, things have changed. We are no longer treated to flesh-crawling shots of the husband and wife making up for the cameras.
It’s a private matter between husband, wife and interior designer. It’s very old fashioned…
