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.
The Hummer Of Change
THE daily battle between man and nature is all around. And nature is winning.
In the UK, the fight can be symbolised by the Mirror’s front page picture of Richard Hammond’s jet-propelled car lying broken in a green field.
And in Los Angeles, the Mirror spots Arnold Schwarzenegger stepping from his gas-guzzling Hummer and vowing never to be back.
Indeed, Arnie, currently playing the role of Governor of California, has got rid of all eight of his four-ton, 11mph army-style people carriers. The move will boost his green credentials.
The Mirror tells us that Hummers emit three times more carbon dioxide than the average car (which in Los Angeles, is very possibly a truck).
And getting rid of them is all part of Arnie sticking to his manifesto. The paper says that during his campaign for election, Arnie vowed to slash air pollution by half, reduce energy output by 20 per cent in five to eight years and take out polluting vehicles.
And to have achieved his goals by simply selling off his fleet of tanks is a masterstroke.
And there is more. The State of California is now on the side of Mother Nature. The state’s attorney-general Bill Lockyer has announced that California is suing six top car makers – General Motors, Toyota, Ford, Honda, Chrysler and Nissan – for producing machines that account for 30 percent of all carbon dioxide emissions in the region.
Says Lockyer: “Global warming is causing significant harm to California’s environment, economy, agriculture and public health…it is time to hold these companies responsible for their contribution to this crisis.”
All very noble, we are sure. And fair too – so long as California sues every driver who, now aware of the link between burning fossil fuels global warming, continues to drive.
Californians are right now walking about their air-conditioned homes and offices wondering how they can save the planet…
Bottle Of (Top) Gear
“YOU’RE A *!@X DRIVER – Clarkson’s hospital gag gets Hammond smiling,” says the Sun’s front page.
And we too smile. Cancel the minute’s silence. And call off the synchronised mass revving of engines and speed camera flash. TV presenter Richard Hammond is alive.
The paper says that Jeremy Clarkson, who co-hosts BBC TV’s Top Gear show, managed to find the right word for the moment and called his mate a “crap driver”. “It was an amazing moment, very moving,” says Jeremy.
But it was not entirely unexpected that one day Hammond would have an accident. And the Sun spots a posting on the Top Gear website. It reads: “No series of Top Gear would be complete without an earnest attempt to kill Richard Hammond.”
Though written back in November, the words have “outraged” Hammond fans who have demanded that it be taken down.
And we wonder what dark forces are at work at the BBC. As we have noted, Hammond is alive, and retains his sense of humour. But was someone planning an accident in Hammond’s car, brake failure and serious head injury in order to make the path clear for…
It’s all too familiar. We have been here before. And chilled to the bone, we delve further into the matter. And alongside a piece on the BBC’s website about drivers in sub-zero temperatures, we read: “We just wanted to see what happened when a TV presenter’s head snaps off.”
Was there a plot to off “The boy racer who became an unlikely star” (Express)? And in light of this accident, should Top Gear be axed?
The Mail asks just such a question. But it cannot debate the matter alone and solicits a certain Neil Lyndon (“YES”) to call the show “adolescent, lawbreaking recklessness” and Martin Newland (“NO”) to say that “the success of Top Gear lies in its defence of the Middle England, law-abiding motorists.”
This is all interesting stuff, not least of all to the millions of us who thought it was just a programme about middle-aged men messing around in cars, a kind of Three Men In A Company Saloon.
But accident or not, as the Mirror’s front page says: “We’re all praying for you, Hamster.”
In silence…
David Hasselhoff: The Musical
DAVID Hasselhoff is the man with the “HIT ME” sticker on his back.
Everyone just loves slapping The Hoff on his back; and The Hoff just adores being so warmly greeted by his millions of fans.
So when we read in the Mail that The Hoff has written a musical – David Hasselhoff: The Musical – we know it will be a hit.
Says the Hoff: “I am also doing a heart-rendering [?] set on my life and the mistakes I have made. It sounds like a bad joke, but it is really going to be a good show.”
And, as the Mail reports, the show is to include a key scene. As The Hoff says: “We’re going to have a baby being born on stage and we’re going to toss it into the audience.”
Like so much of The Hoff’s career, the production is pantomime with a twist. Although the Mail is quick to point out that the baby will be played by a little helium balloon.
One of pair of balloons which once starred alongside Hasselhoff in Baywatch…
Old Banger
HERE at Anorak we don’t flinch from stories that other publications might understandably shy away from. Even when bad news is close to home, we put our news values before personal considerations.
Yet it is with sadness that we turn to page 23 of the Mirror, and see: “BRITAIN’S OLDEST KERB CRAWLER CAUGHT AT 95.”
“Officers saw the widower pull up at the roadside and invite a young woman into his car late at night.”
So? Is this a crime in Blair’s Britain? No doubt there is a perfectly innocent explanation. Perhaps there were no Werthers Originals left in the glove compartment, and he was asking directions to the nearest all-night garage.
Apparently not. Police followed the couple to a secluded car park and “nabbed” the pair “as they were getting down to sexual activity”.
The man has not been named, and has been let off with a caution because of his age. “He appeared to be ashamed,” said a police spokesman.
Old Mr Anorak was not available for comment.
Madonna’s Too Tokyo Hyatt
HOLD UP, what’s all this in the old Currant Bun?
Turns out that Anorak’s favourite cockney hard man Guy Ritchie is getting more grief from his Yankee trouble-and-strife. Seems Ritchie is refusing to play Scrabble with the missus because she is “too competitive”.
“Madonna doesn’t like losing at anything,” a source tells the paper. “The atmosphere was so intense and she was such a sore loser that he told her he wouldn’t play her again. Even Tiddlywinks could start World War III.”
We know how she feels. Anorak remembers the days when the young Guy would work the pubs of the East End as a Scrabble shark, hustling punters for a game of “Margaret”. (Margaret Drabble – Scrabble.)
Inevitably an argument would ensue over the spelling of “geyser” or some such, and before long Guy would pull out his shooter and say that things were getting “too Tokyo Hyatt” (rhyming slang: quiet and meditative – competitive).
The board would go flying, tables were turned over, and in the melee Guy would sweep the stake money off the board and leg it.
Two or three results like that in one evening and he would have enough for a slap-up supper and a tuppenny slapper. Lavverly!
The Glasgow Taliban
HOME secretary John Reid had what the Daily Mail calls “a dramatic confrontation with two preachers of hate” during his visit to East London yesterday.
Things didn’t look good when a young Muslim held up signs saying “John Reid go to hell”, but Reid resisted the urge to quip “I think I just have” and delivered a no-nonsense message about the need to combat extremism.
This didn’t go down too well with the extremist community. Indeed, Dr Reid was met by “a tirade from notorious extremists Anjem Choudary and Abu Izzadeen”.
Reid was undeterred, however. “Believe it or not, I have actually enjoyed it,” he said afterwards.
Fighting talk from the pugnacious Scot, and we would expect nothing less. But what of the notorious extremists?
The Mail helpfully fills us in on Mr Choudary, under the headline “Man who said: Kill the Pope”. And it turns out that “the right-hand man of hate cleric Omar Bakri”, has a more colourful past than one might expect. Indeed, he “is said by contemporaries to have smoked cannabis and drunk alcohol as a student”.
Anorak can reveal more. Our sources tell us that after a hard week’s rabble-rousing, Choudary likes nothing more than to board an inter-city train to Glasgow with a few cans of heavy and bunch of like-minded pals.
Before long, “Imam Blue Nose” (as he is known to his mates) is striking up the opening notes of The Sash on his penny whistle and the air is thick with cries of “Kill the Pope”.
“Ibrox is my spiritual home,” he cries tearfully, to wild agreement from the Rangers faithful. “Ally be praised.”
Take note, please, Dr Reid.
Getting Woods
“TIGER’S WIFE IN SEX PIC SHOCK.”
That’s the Star’s front-page headline, and it’s one illustrated by a shot of Swedish model Elin Nordegren wearing a white bikini.
Elin looks like a fantasy caddie as she sucks on a blade of grass, doubtless deciding on the direction of the prevailing winds as she directs Tiger to the correct wood.
Inside the paper, it’s “THE RIDE HER CUP!”, a play on words on the Ryder Cup, the golf contest between teams from Europe and America which begins on Friday.
And, yes, Woods is America’s biggest star. And these supposed pornographic snapshots of his wife have caused him to go about “roaring with rage”.
Readers of the Dubliner, an Irish magazine, are treated to shots of a woman said to be swimwear model Elin and the headline: “Ryder Cup filth for Ireland.”
It goes on to say: “Most American golfers are married to women who cannot keep their clothes on in public. Is it too much to ask that they leave them at home for the Ryder Cup?”
It continues: “Consider the evidence – Tiger Woods’ wife can be found in a variety of sweaty poses on porn sites.”
Sensational. And wrong. The pictures of a topless Elin are fakes. And in a game of spot the difference, the Star reproduces two of the fake pictures alongside a shot of a “The Real Thing” (a picture of Elin covering her naked chest with her arms).
And all done in best possible taste…
Elizabeth Taylor’s Steve Irwin
ARE we watching the beginnings of a macabre new trend?
When Shelley Winters died from heart failure on January 14, 2006, her passing was announced on the national news. A big moment. But when compared to the outpouring of emotion spent on Steve Irwin’s demise, double Oscar winner Winters went with a whimper.
So what will it be for Elizabeth Taylor, that other two-time Oscar winner? Will she do a Winters or an Irwin?
It’s the kind of dark thinking triggered by the Mail’s picture of the fabled actress being lowered into shark-infested waters.
“Bring on the sharks!” says the headline. And there is Taylor, equipped with snorkel and mask being gently dunked into the treacherous waters off the cost of Hawaii.
It looks to be all over for the screen legend. But she is not alone. Accompanied by guides at either side and protected from gnashing teeth by a 10ft by 6ft glass cage, Liz should be just fine. The obituary writers can stand down.
Unless a shark decides to jump…
Desperately Seeking Pauline
NEWS that EastEnders miserabislist Pauline Fowler is to hang up her dishcloth marks the end of an era and, perhaps, the start of new chapter for Madonna.
Looking at the Star’s picture of the singer/actress (Madonna) sporting a new crop of platinum hair, the suggestion is that she is already getting into character.
But she will not have it all her own way. And while husband Guy Ritchie gives his ‘trouble and pears’ a quick learnin’ in Mockney English, the Sun introduces the competition.
Alongside a shot of Madonna as Pauline, the Sun produces a picture of the original thing. But reading on we relise that we are mistaken. That’s not Pauline, harridan of the laundrette – it’s Sharon Stone.
And she might not be the only one on the casting couch hoping to appear in the BBC’s flagship soap. The Mirror, which produces ten pictures of Madonna’s changing looks since 1984, says her new hairstyle has more than a hint Victoria Beckham about it.
The competition to be the new maven of the laundrette promises to be intense. And bring a little glamour into all our lives…
Dispirit Housewives
YOU can stop asking questions about what people are excitingly calling “Chris Tarrant’s affair with a blonde woman”.
We are now down to the facts part of the show, when the money gets divided and the winner/loser disappears into the backstage ether.
Before wronged wife Ingrid Tarrant collects a large cheque from the Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? host – the Mail says she’s in line for £10m in any divorce – she addresses the crowd.
It has long been the fashion among the celebrity set to release official statements. Why Ingrid cannot speak off the cuff as the wronged wife we don’t know. Perhaps she hopes to get back with Chris – the Mirror says he will try to woo her.
Perhaps she hopes that her statement will be seen as full, frank and final, enabling her to retreat from the spotlight. Perhaps it’s just the done thing.
Whatever the reason, instead of reading about the “cheating swine” and how revenge will be hers, Ingrid tells us of Chris’s “infidelity”, which she has known about for “several months”.
“I was shocked at the discovery, but I successfully disguised my shattered heart,” says Ingrid. She says she has “maintained a dignified silence”. But: “Unfortunately Chris drew unwelcome attention by behaving indiscreetly in a wine bar.”
It’s all so po-faced. Even the wine bar smacks of something above the norm and sterile. This is essentially a middle-class affair. Dirty washing will not be aired in public – although it’s debatable whether the knickerless women of Surrey, who Ingird says flash her husband, have any.
And others seem willing to join in. After the Sun’s front-page “Ingrid: My shattered heart”, columnist Jane Moore (herself blonde and so well placed to comment) tells us what’s what.
She says Chris’s affair is “very stereotypical and simplistic”. He was having a “major mid-life crisis”. Having lost his morning job at Capital Radio, and “suffered the death of his beloved father”, he was “clearly dispossessed and miserable”. It’s a “martial hic-cup”.
Over in the Mirror, the story is given a full-stop by Dr Miriam Stoppard. It’s “MIRIAM’S VERDICT”, and in it, Miriam (an assisted brunette) says that deciding to separate is a “very mature step”.
Indeed. It is. It’s all so sensible and, as the doctor says, mature.
Unless, of course, the divorce does not go to plan and the contestants row. Then we might hear something more about the cheating. And Ingrid might cough…
Get Yer Kit On
“VICTORIA looks fit in my kit,” says the Mirror’s headline. “DROPPED BECKS REVEALS HIS SECRET PASSIONS…AND PAIN.”
The Mirror was listening in yesterday when Becks was interviewed by Radio 1 DJ Chris Moyles. And there were revelations aplenty.
“I think women look great when they play football,” says Becks. “Victoria looks great in my kit.”
Moyles pressed the point. “If she turns up for breakfast in bed wearing one of your shirts it must drive you crazy.”
Beckham replied: “It doesn’t get any better than that.”
Psychologists will surely deliberate over what it is about seeing his wife dressed up as one of his team-mates that gets Beckham excited. Others will wonder what Posh eats for breakfast in bed. Speculation will be rife.
And while Mirror readers get to see and artist’s impression of Posh in a Real Madrid kit, Beckham wonders about the chances of seeing her in the full England nylon.
“Playing for England was everything to me,” says Dave. “If I was a betting man, I wouldn’t bet on me playing again, although I really want to.”
If not just to see Posh with three lions on her chest one last time…
Church’s Reveal
WHO would have guessed that when she won the 2002 Rear Of The Year title, Charlotte Church would end up in “BIG” pants?
Who can forget Charlotte’s words at receiving her award for services to the backside: “Now that I’m sixteen it seems it’s okay to give me an award like this. A year ago people would have said it was a bit sick"?
Now four years on, the Star brings its readers a picture of Charlotte’s backside as it is now. The years of sitting have not been all that kind and today’s Charlotte is a vision in “giant-sized undies”.
We take a look at Charlotte walking in Cardiff. But as hard as we stare it’s hard to see any knickers beneath Charlotte’s white see-through dress.
And the Mail also fails to get to the crux of the story. Although its picture of Charlotte is in full colour, readers are afforded only a side view. And despite the paper’s claim that Charlotte’s knickers are “clearly visible” to all, we cannot see them.
It’s left to the Mirror to investigate. It has programmed its snapper’s flash gun to “X-Ray” and gone “undie cover”. And looking at its pictures of Charlotte – taken from both the side and rear – we finally spot the singer’s knickers.
The Mirror says these are “Bridget Jones-style knickers”. For illustrative purposes, it pictures Renee Zellweger, who played Jones on film, holding aloft a gigantic pair of apple catchers.
And it hears form Charlotte. “I’ve got the biggest, fattest control pants in the world,” says Charlotte, “if these don’t work, nothing will.”
And so it is we see Charlotte in her “gripper knickers”. And we wonder if they do work. And, if they do, will Charlotte become the first celebrity in history to regain her Rear Of The Year crown?
Or will the bottom fall out of her ambitions…
Hilton’s Bed & Bored
PARIS Hilton is multitasking in the Mirror. She is talking on a mobile phone, carrying shopping bags AND wearing sunglasses.
It is not for no reason that she is desired. And here comes an admirer now. Why, it’s none other than British comedian Steve Coogan.
As the Sun reports (“Coogan can’t get into the Hilton”), Coogan has been out in Los Angeles’s Hyde Club with Paris and Rod Stewart’s daughter Kimberly.
Coogan is in Tinsel Town to meet TV executives. He’s checked into the Chateau Marmont hotel. And he’s taken another room at the nearby Mondrian under the name Joel Rosenthal. This is his personal “love pad”.
And here is Steve drinking with Paris Hilton, sunglass wearer, mobile phone talker and star of straight-to-internet home movies.
Things are going well. A source sees drinks being drunk. But Kimberly and Paris have had enough. They head off.
But Coogan is not ready to call it a night. So, as a source says: “He got a taxi to take him to Paris’s house and ended up banging on the door for an hour asking to be let in but Paris refused.”
Steve can huff and he can puff but Paris will not let him in. As the Sun reports, Paris calls him “Courtney’s Creep”, after Steve’s fling with her friend Courtney Love. This is not believed to be a term of endearment.
But, of course, it’s probably all just a terrible misunderstanding. It’s that Rosenthal chap who’s the pest. Coogan’s just getting into character…
Fastest Fingers
“IT’S OVER.”
Sometimes the simplest headlines are the best. And the Mirror’s neatly sums up the condition of Chris Tarrant and his wife Ingrid’s marriage. It is over.
But sometimes more is needed. “It’s over” is so neat. There are no rough edges. It’s not messy enough – and divorces that are played out on the front pages are always messy.
So how about the Star’s front-page headline instead? How about: “Tarrant divorce official – WIFE LETS RIP OVER F***ING LITTLE COW”?
That’s the ticket. And inside the paper, beneath a picture of a “drained” Ingrid driving her car, readers get to hear the wronged wife call Fiona McKechnie, the women who had an affair with Chris, a “f***ing cow” on two further occasions.
The phrase plays a key part in Ingrid’s reply to her estranged husband’s statement. In that address, Chris says: “I’m deeply sorry for the hurt I caused my loyal wife and wonderful children…I’ve only myself to blame…the liaison which has led to all of this was not significant in my life…I will always regret…”
After a contrite Chris has finished telling the world about his insignificant 10-year affair with the aforesaid Fiona – he appeals to be left alone by the media – Ingrid replies.
“I’ve got no food in my house, the dog has no food and the cat has got no food,” says Ingrid. “I’ve just got to get out of here.”
For shame! But pet lovers should not rush to condemn Ingrid out of hand. These are trying times at chez Tarrant and all the family – wife, husband, children, cats and dogs – are affected.
Ingrid’s not herself. A spokesman for the couple tells the Mail that Ingrid is “hysterical” at the realisation her marriage is over.
She needs to try and regain her composure and take stock. And if she can’t do it alone, she can always rely on the Star to help clarify matters. As its headline says: “TARRANT DUMPS WIFE.”
Sometimes the short headlines are best…
Mind-Bending It Like Beckham
“I SPOKE to Tom Cruise when I was axed…he helped me,” says David Beckham on the Mirror’s front page.
The former England captain has yet to appear on daytime TV, jumping on Richard & Judy’s couch and screaming: "I’m in love! I’m in love!" He has also yet to feel a need for speed, or Scientology.
But David did speak to Tom on the phone about his post-England life. Says Dayve: “He talked about everything I had done in the World Cup, about the goals I scored and the goals I set up.
“He said I was a great player, that I played for Real Madrid, I’ve got a healthy family and three boys and a wife who love me to bits.”
Tom might even have told David about Scientology, how it is the new Kabbalah and puts added bend in your balls.
But Tom is not the only thing that helped Dave get over the news that he was no longer in the England team, let alone its captain.
What would Dave be without Victoria? She is the Paul Burrell to Dave’s Princess Diana. As Dave says: “Victoria has been my rock”. And lest you doubt it, here’s Dave again: “Like I said, she’s been my rock.”
And not just any rock. But a rock in a leather pencil skirt and heels. Indeed, as the Sun says, Posh is the rock who is also the country’s foremost “yummy mummy”.
In a poll conducted by a baby food company, Her Poshness is Britain’s foremost mum. As the Star says, Posh won praise for her “perfect” grooming “despite” having to look after her sons.
How does Posh do it? With three sons to play with, wash and dress, she still manages to look immaculate and change her clothes any number of times in a single day. Perhaps they help her. Brooklyn teases her hair, Romeo picks out her outfits and Cruz paints her nails and face?
The boys are well trained. No wonder Dave can rely on his wife. And that’s Dave who won the male side of the poll and is officially the country’s “dishiest dad”.
It is true to say that life is not over for Dave. Far from it. And though he is no longer our top footballer, he is our top dad.
And a top gun.
Phone A Lawyer
“TARRANT’S 10-YEAR AFFAIR,” says the front page of the Mirror.
What began as an illicit kiss in a Surrey bar nicknamed ‘Divorce Central’, a venue packed with bare-arsed desperate housewives, is now a full-blown relationship.
And we read that for the past decade Chris Tarrant, who presents TV’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? has been cheating on his wife Ingrid with one Fiona McKenchie.
Fiona is revealed to be 50 years old and a trustee at a charity Chris is involved in. It’s called Headway, which may produce a snigger from adolescent sections of Anorak’s readership. More so when we tell you that Fiona works as a deputy head mistress.
Indeed, some teenage pupils at Miss McKenchie’s school may find it hard to control themselves as they hear a friend of Chris’s say: “His marriage has had some very rocky spells because Ingrid is so high-maintenance. Fiona has been a port in a storm.”
The source goes on: “There has been a strong sexual element to their relationship.” You don’t say. Sex in an affair? It’s true.
And for a moment we wonder what else philandering Chris has been up to as the Mail’s front page beings news of “Why our marriage is over by Ingrid Tarrant”, beneath another headline: “THE BETRAYAL OF 60,000 CHILDREN.”
Not that Chris has been that prolific. No children other than his and Ingrid’s are involved.
But what does Ingrid have to say? The Mail sees Miss McKenzie stood beside her partner, company director Simon Blackwood, as he reads aloud a statement. He says “we expect to grow old together” (perhaps ageing quickly after this) and “we are not going to comment on other people’s personal affairs”.
Quite so. Other people’s affairs are private matters, even if the suggestion is that they are also you lover’s affair and one party is a TV star.
But what of Ingrid? Well, nothing. The Mail’s front-page teaser suggests a tete-a-tete with the wronged wife, but all we get is Ingrid saying: “I don’t want to say anything until I’ve sat down and digested all of this”
And as she thinks she might like to read the Star’s “15 key questions for quiz show king.”
Questions Ingrid might like to ask her husband include: “Where were you last night?”; “How much does it cost to hire a private detective (Ingrid hired one to track her husband).
And: “How much money are you going to give me?” And should I call my friend the lawyer…
Signs Of The Times
EVERY day of every week the Mail thinks up imaginative ways to remind you that life is cruel and you are going to experience pain and die. And if it can’t think any up, it looks at scientific research.
Here is a selection of things that will kill you and yours from last week’s paper of doom…
MONDAY
“Unborn babies exposed to gender-bender pesticides” – Department of Radiology and Physical Medicine at the University of Granada, finds agricultural pesticides in women’s placentas
“The ghastly prospect that, as a result of catastrophic illness, doctors might write you off as dead even though you are well aware of what is going on, but can’t communicate that you are still alive, is the stuff of nightmares – Living death and the arrogance of doctors who want to play god” – Melanie Phillips kicks off the week in fine style
“WATCH OUT! Or why this year’s hot summer has brought more – and BIGGER – spiders than ever before” – Scuttle! Don’t walk!
“Today, on the fifth anniversary of 9/11, our troops are being killed by the Taliban, anarchy rules in Iraq and countless home-grown fanatics plot against the West. Blair and Bush’s war on Al Qaeda has turned into disaster – THE TRIUMPH OF TERRORISM” – Far and loathing in the Mail
TUESDAY
“Property boom fuels debts fears” – Just as it does every week
“The death of British humour” – Brought to you by the man from the Daily Mail
“Lynx on the loose! Experts warn of threat to humans and livestock as animal activists plan to release extinct predators back into Britain” – The dinosaurs are coming. Coming, I tells yer…
“Cyclists with helmets ‘more likely to be hit’” – So says “traffic psychologist” Dr Ian Walker
“THE SILENT KILLER. Kathryn’s husband was a fit, rugby-mad 39-year-old when he dropped dead. If only he’d taken a simple blood pressure test they’d have known that, like millions, his life was at risk” – Don’t panic; it’ll only make it worse
“A PERNICIOUS CONSPIRACY. Patently drugs save lives. But a chilling new book says a conspiracy between drug conglomerates, doctors, politicians and watchdogs is producing medicines that are not only unnecessary…but are actually killing us” – Always read the label and mix liberally with alcohol
WEDNESDAY
“A PLAGUE ON THIS CLUTTER” – Max Hastings looks at the “signpost insanity”
“An epitaph for childhood killed by junk food, TV and the computer” – Bring back Rupert the Bear, work houses and unexploded German bombs, malnourishment…
THURSDAY
“NHS chief warns of hospital closures and cuts epidemic”
“Two-thirds of fertility clinics have no sperm” – Headline Of The Week
“The danger doormats. They lurk ready to trip up the unwary. But, never fear, a vigilant council is wiping them out” – Hurrah!
“Youngsters in the grip of addiction to mobiles”
“BETRAYAL OF OUR CHIDLREN. This week 110 leading childcare experts signed a letter waning that childhood is being destroyed in modern Britain. What’s to be done about it?” – Er, we could just let children get on with being children?
FRIDAY
“Let‘s make a deal: I’ll give more time to my children if the State stops meddling in their schooling” – Tom Utley threatens his children
“Terrorised by twisters” – Britain in thrall of spinning winds
Chips Off The Old Stones
“FRESH from taking New York’s Fashion Week by storm – where the glamorous babe strutted down the catwalk drinking a big milkshake…”
Fashion moves on apace. And no sooner have we got out Lindsay Lohan-styled plaster casts than another starlet ups the ante with a milkshake.
But before we race out to get one, we learn that the model seen eating in public is none other than Theodora Richards. She is, as the Star says, “stunning”. She is also the daughter of Keith Richards.
Though distinctive looking, the Rolling Stones guitarist can never be accused of being pretty.
And when we hear of his daughter’s sashay down the catwalk, we stand on our chairs and applaud the fashion industry for breaking out and opening its doors to women who eat, drink and look like blonde versions of Keith.
Of course, Theodora looks nothing like her dad. As is so often the way with top model daughters of old rockers – Elizabeth Jagger, Lea Woods, Kimberly Stewart – Theodora has inherited all her looks from her model mum, supermodel Patti Hansen.
So here’s Theodora on the font of the Star, and again inside. And she tells us: “My mum told me that I should have a good head on my shoulders.”
And keep the Richards name…
Lohan Gets Plastered
LINDSAY Lohan is back.
Not that the freckly actress ever leaves the Mirror. And we look forward to the paper being printed on Lindsay-style paper, with readers invited to join up the star’s freckles to produce the day’s news story.
And today, taking a pen, we move through the numbers to produce the headline: “LINDSAY BREAKS WRIST.”
News is that while out celebrating New York Fashion Week, the actress slipped and smashed her wrist in two places. Lindsay says it was not her fault, pointing the finger at a slippery floor.
Her spokeswoman, Sloane Zelnik, says that “there is a pending investigation”. And rest assured the Mirror will bring you each courtroom blow and counterpunch in full and frank detail.
For now the facts, such as they are, are sketchy.
Freckle 1: The 20-year-old actress tumbles at the Milk Studios in New York.
Freckle 2: Her wrist is smashed/fractured/ in two places.
Freckle 3: And mother Dinah “raced” from the family home in Long Island to be at her daughter’s side.
Freckle 4: The Mirror reminds us that Lindsay “collapsed” on the set of her latest movie “claming exhaustion”.
Join the freckles together and draw you own conclusions. and get a plaster cast on your arm – it’s New Your Fashion week and everyone who’s anyone has one on…
Kate Moss’s Shot In The Arm
“HOW £15m Moss is cashing in on drug scandal,” says the Mail.
The paper says that a year after being “photographed snorting cocaine”, Kate Moss’s career has grown in potency. The cocaine story was a shot in the arm for brand Moss.
But before we go on, the Star wants to say that Moss was only “apparently” seen snorting cocaine. As we have said, the substance Kate was pictured chopping up could have been talcum powder, sherbet or anthrax.
And the Star would also like its readers to know that Kate now has the highest number of advertising deals of any celebrity. It says her contracts are worth not £15m but £30m. As the paper’s headline says: “THE DRUGS DO WORK.”
For sure. But before wannabe celebrities dash out to get some washing powder and a camera phone, know that it takes more than just a drugs story to make you rich.
Like Kate, you will need a wasted boyfriend. The Mail says Kate’s relationship with pop f***wit Pete Doherty has raised her profile, and his.
And you will need a photogenic face, an elfin figure and the ability to walk with one leg in front of the other down a catwalk and back again.
You will also need a willing press, keen to write about your every move at length.
They will list the companies you represent (as the Star and Mail do), so securing their exposure and your future earnings…
Elton John’s Dead Good Pals
ELTON John has buried more showbiz friends than most of us can ever hope to meet alive.
In the Sun’s “ELTON JOHN EXCLUSIVE” (to rival the Mirror’s “EXCLUSIVE”), Elton tells of the “trauma of losing many close pals including Princess Diana, Freddie Mercury and John Lennon”.
As Elton says: “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of the people like Gianni [Versace] and Diana and John Lennon and other friends who have gone needlessly.”
We too have lost friends. But on the point of listing them, Elton issues a kind of challenge: “Two of my best friends have been murdered on their doorsteps in America – I don’t think many people can say that.”
He’s right. Not many people can. Much less in an exclusive interview to promote their new album.
You see, Elton has penned a song about his deceased friends. “This song is about how life is so unfair when great people go and others don’t.”
How much less painful it would have been had, say, Gianni Versace’s killed missed his target and shot the designers cleaner in the head. Or if some other less worthy car passenger had died in an accident and Diana lived.
But, as Eton says, life is “unfair!”. But life goes on. And over in the Mirror’s exclusive, Elton realises that some greats are still alive.
He says that his “heart bleeds” for Pop Idol winner Michelle McManus. He likes Will Young. His pal James Blunt is “very hurt” by the criticism. Madonna has donated £25,000 to Elton’s Aids Foundation. Robbie Williams is “talented”. Elton is good friends with Simon Cowell and Sharon Osbourne.
What are they if not great? And alive..?
Beckham’s New Pout
DOES Victoria Beckham ever tire of wearing clothes?
One of the world’s foremost dressers is pictured on the Mirror’s Page 3 (“GLOSS SPICE”) wearing some of her trademark clothes.
The paper’s fashion editor is on hand to tell us more about Posh’s dedication to clothes and the wearing of. But on the point of introducing us to “trousers”, she is brought up short.
Victoria’s lips have caught the expert’s eye. Indeed, Victoria’s lips are so protruding they could take an eye out. They are also shiny, less painted with lipstick than plated.
Still, the Mirror is worried that anyone could miss these lips – if only – and uses an arrow to point to them. “RED LIPS,” says the text at the feather end of this arrow. “Pure crimson…and shiny as her shoes.” Yes, Posh has lips like patent leather.
Note the “shoes”. The red ones. Which – and now we’re getting the hang of this clothes thing – are located at the end of the “trousers”.
Which are, in turn, just below Posh’s thrusting chest, which seem intent on escaping the constraints of her “jacket”.
This is, as the Mail says, “Victoria and her quest to be big in America.” The paper commends to its readers attention Vicky’s “every-growing breasts”.
To help readers realise that Posh’s chest might be expanding, the paper produces old shots of her chest and places them alongside this latest outing. (As ever, the Posh chest is wrapped in clothes.)
It’s impossible not to think that Posh isn’t blooming. And the paper is right to say that this must lead to speculation that Vicky has had surgery to “enlarge her once negligible bust”.
Her aides deny this. And so does Vicky. The paper recalls her telling Michael Parkinson on his TV show: “I’m totally natural, except my nails and fake tan.”
And lipstick. And clothes…
His Whit’s End
“WE’VE gone our separate ways and I’m looking for new tenderloin.”
And so it was that with those, er, tender words, Bobby Brown announces that he and Whitney Houston are to divorce.
Having married in 1992, the singers are to duet no more. But while Bobby is looking for fresh meat, Whitney is said to be “shellshocked and distraught”.
Judging by recent pictures of the singer, shellshocked and distraught might now be her preferred state. And we wish her well with it.
And the Star’s thoughts are with the couple’s daughter, Bobbi. She’s aged 14 in the Star (and 13 pretty much everywhere else). Reading such stories as the Star’s “I won’t always love you” must be difficult.
But there is hope. And although we are not told why the couple are to split, we recall a recent story about Osama bin Laden’s desire for Whitney.
Might it be that the couple are separating for health reasons? As was reported, the world’s most wanted man has apparently planned to make Whitney his own and, if needs be, kill Bobby.
Who in Bobby’s shoes would not contemplate divorce? And who in Whitney’s heels would not let their man go, and set about making themselves as unattractive as humanly possible?
It’s for the best…
The Daily Lohan
IN today’s “The Daily LOHAN”, the renamed Daily Mirror has a picture of Lindsay Lohan holding a mobile phone to one ear, her right one.
Why? We can only guess. But since Lindsay’s doing it you can bet it won’t be long before we’re all at it and everyone from wannabe stars to plumbers and even estate agents is holding a phone to their ear in public.
And this is not all. The Daily Lohan says that the “actress” (and those are the Mirror’s inverted commas not ours), is now in her native New York.
Just days after appearing at London clubs, she’s at the city’s Bungalow 8 venue.
And the Mirror is impressed. It wonders how 19-year-old Lindsay manages to do it. Perhaps it is because she is young? Perhaps it is because she sleeps on the plane and has staff to cater to her ever whim? Perhaps it is because there is not one Lindsay but several, each functioning for a single night before burning out?
We do not know. But the Lindsay in today’s Mirror “has been spotted taking ice from her – numerous – drinks and putting it on her eyes to keep the puffiness down the next day”.
This is telling stuff. And right it is that the Mirror says “ice on, Linz” to this ice cool starlet.
Expect more news tomorrow – when Lindsay puts her hair in bun, her feet in some shoes and The Daily Lohan gives away a free Lindsay ice cube with every copy…
Just(ice) 19
“IN jeans and T–shirt, she looks like a typical teenager!” writes the Mail. The paper has a picture of one Lucy Tate and invites readers to study her form.
We do. And note that Lucy looks pretty normal, albeit without the teenage panoply of spliff, pregnancy tum-tum and snarl.
Lucy has a “love for sparkly shoes and bags, shopping and watching television”, notes the Mail. And once more we consider the evidence. And, taking the fact that Lucy lives in a cul-de-sac with parents Mandy and Robert and their two Yorkshire terriers – we rule that Lucy is pretty normal.
And then drops the bombshell. Lucy is a magistrate! At just 19 years of age, Lucy is the youngest magistrate in the land.
Other teens who want to get a closer look at Lucy can catch her appearances at Pontefract magistrates court, West Yorkshire. Old classmates of Lucy’s keen to renew lost friendships can see Lucy by way of a little shoplifting and criminal damage.
Lucy, who confesses to being fan of the film Pretty Woman and travelling, poses for a picture but fails to speak.
It’s left to a friend to speak on Lucy’s behalf. “She is a sensible girl and takes the business of being a magistrate very seriously,” says the unnamed pal.
Indeed. As a student of the law – Lucy studies at Leeds University – we expect nothing less.
And anyone who says Lucy has become a Beak to meet Pete Doherty can be taken to the cells until they come to their senses…
