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.
New Balls
“ENGLAND babes are rated the hottest on the planet.” So says the Star with understandable pride.
The paper has seen a survey by a company called Carma, and notes that the World Cup Wags have attracted more media coverage than any other nation’s Wags.
(Just yesterday, England’s decisive goal against Ecuador was marked by the BBC’s cameras honing in on Victoria Beckham hugging one of her sons.)
But the girls are under pressure. Their crown may slip from their hair extensions. Their fake orange tan may run. For they have competition.
Summer is here and leggy lovelies have begun to wander around Wimbledon in short tennis skirts.
The Star produces a photograph of Maria Sharapova. The paper says that Wimbledon spoilsports have ruled that girls competing in this year’s tournament must wear only white.
So here’ a shot of Maria in her pink baby doll-style tennis dress. There’s a peek at “Tasty” Tatiana Golovin’s black knickers and a look down Maria Kirienko’s beige top. “Volley gosh,” says the paper and we agree.
It’s much the same over in the Sun. In “You setsy thing”, readers hear that to go with the all-white dress code, players must not wear clothing “deemed too sexy or too low-cut”.
This is a “glaring fault”. Maria peers seductively over one of her golden shoulders and invites us to check the length of her skirt.
And there’s Daniela Hantuchova looking “ace”; Elena Dementieva bending over; and another shot of tennis “Smasher” Kirilenko.
It’s pretty clear the Wags have their work cut out. Look out for Posh and her tangerine team wearing tennis skirts. And grunting…
Goer Cart
CAN you hear that? That’s the buzz Paris Hilton has been creating ever since she set foot in Blighty.
As the Sun reports, Paris touched down on our gilded land last Friday and has been partying hard ever since.
The paper looks on as Paris gets ready for a night out at the 02 Wireless Festival in London’s Hyde Park.
For this outing, Paris is wearing a white dress and a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. It’s hot outside. And the stage is a full half-mile from her wardrobe.
Paris needs a car. So she summons one. She waits. And then hears the Noddy-type “toot-toot” as a golf cart pulls up.
The cart only travels at 10mph, not fast enough for Paris, who, as a source says, offers the driver cash if he can make the thing go quicker. James Blunt is due on stage and she doesn’t want to miss the start of his dirge.
You see, Paris has plans to be a singer and wants to pick up tips on how James does it. If he can make it big, surely anyone can – and he isn’t even wearing killer heels and showing everyone his knickers. Just imagine what Paris can achieve.
Thankfully, Paris makes it to the stage in time – 10mph is over double the average speed for traffic in London. And having seen what she wanted Paris goes to Jade Jagger’s new Jezebel nightclub in Shepherd’s Bush.
On Saturday, there’s a photoshoot. Then it’s back to the festival, and the chance to snare Blunt and take him dancing at Boujis nightclub.
Where he can teach her how to sing and she can teach him how to show everyone your knickers…
Making It Legal
AFTER the disappointment of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez’s cancelled wedding, and Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn’s protracted will-they-won’t-they nuptials, finally we get to see a top Hollywood actress marry.
“I’M SO HAPPY,” says the Star’s headline, words that could come straight from the lips of any Nicole Kidman fan but are spoken by the actress as she gets M.A.R.R.I.E.D to country music singer Keith Urban.
“We just want to thank everyone in Australia and around the world who have sent us their warm wishes,” says Nicole as she ties the knot in Sydney.
Her thanks are not needed. Her happiness is our happiness. And her tears are our tears. The Mail (“the blubbing bride”) watches Nicole dissolve in wedding day tears. And Keith starts to cry as he sees his bride approaching.
But the tears do not last for long. After a kiss described as “long and passionate”, a guest says things went from being “quiet and elegant and intense to really loud, like we were suddenly at a soccer game”.
Happily, we can report the similarities between the wedding and a football match end there – no pews are thrown and German police are not forced to pepper spray the congregation.
The 1,000 wellwishers massed outside the Cardinal Cerretti Memorial Chapel, on St Patrick’s Estate, Manley, do not sing lewd songs about Nicole’s sexual preferences but just cheer and clap as the couple emerge.
Then it is off for a Romeo and Juliet-themed marquee reception. Hugh Jackman gives a rendition of Boy from Oz, Keith sings a song (“I’m gonna love you like nobody loves you – and I’ll earn your trust makin’ memories of us”), guests Russell Crowe and Naomi Watts mingle and the lawyers look on (under the terms of their prenuptial agreement, Keith earns £350,000 for every year of marriage but forgoes the lot if he drinks to excess.)
And love is all around…
The Gloves Are Off
MORE from the Mail’s “They’re Just Like You And Me” campaign.
Having made us baulk at Michael Douglas’s turkey neck, belch at Julia Roberts’ underarm hair and gag at Kate Moss’s thighs, the paper shines a bright light on Madonna’s hands.
“Even with muscles like these, Madonna can’t beat the hands of time,” says the headline. There then follows a picture of Madge holding a bottle of water, her bony hand resembles a vulture’s gripping foot tearing into a decaying zebra.
“Close inspection of her hands feature a virtual roadmap of veins,” says the paper. “This is something even the “toughest exercise regime just can’t solve”.
Indeed. Although when the hand is curled into a “fist” and planted in the “face” of a Mail photographer and/or hack, the hand’s owner may well have cause to be thankful for all those hours spent in the gym…
Here Comes The Bride…
HERE COMES the bride, eight feet wide, walks in the church and gets stuck on the other side.
Welcome to the wedding of Carly O’Brien and Michael Coffey. And get a load Carly’s dress, which occupies a page in the Sun and most of a church in Gloucester.
Carly’s dress weighs 25 stone and cost £25,000. It is 8ft wide. The train is 60ft long. It is a blend of 30-layers of chiffon, fake diamonds and 4,800ft of netting. Carly has spent nine and a half hours getting into it.
And, as you might have already guessed, the dress has been inspired by the mo-del Jordan and what she wore for her marriage to Peter Andre.
And just like Jordan, Carly arrives for her wedding in a pumpkin-shaped horse-drawn carriage. To complete the look, Carly wears a huge tiara and orange skin.
What her husband is wearing is not revealed, although a look of abject terror would be forgivable…
Urban Fairytales
LEST anyone doubt Nicole Kidman’s Australian credentials, let it be known that her mother is called Janelle.
And also know that Nicole is to be married to Keith Urban in an empire-line dress designed by Balanciaga. It is, as the Mail says, “as fairytale as they come”.
Indeed it is. What is more fairytale than the story of the divorcee who marries a singer with a history of alcohol and drug abuse? Nicole is every inch the modern day Cinderella.
And so it is that Nicole and Keith, her prince charming, will marry at the Cardinal Cerretti Memorial Chapel in Sydney.
A string quartet from the Sydney Symphony Orchestra will play on, Russell Crowe, Renee Zellweger and Rupert Murdoch will blend in with the other guests and £50,000-worth of white orchids and a £1,500 cake.
Afterwards, the newlyweds will honeymoon at the Wakaya resort in Fiji.
They will then return to their palace in Nashville to live happily ever after in idyllic bliss – with the prenuptial agreement hidden under a pile of mattresses…
This Year’s Orange (Peel)
HAVING exposed Michael Douglas’s haggard neck and Julia Roberts’s chinchilla armpits, the Mail now gawps at Kate Moss’s legs.
“How Kate legged it,” says the Mail’s headline above a shot of the model walking down some steps at a music festival in London.
Wearing what the paper terms a pair of “merciless hotpants”, the Mail shows equally little mercy as it zooms in on Kate’s thighs.
At the end of a red arrow pointing to the inner thigh of Kate’s right leg, the Mail spots the “dreaded dimples”. “Kate reveals more than a hint of cellulite,” it says. Yes, cellulite, the “dreaded dimpled skin that drives women to distraction”.
But, in fairness to Kate, it needs to be said that such is the closeness of the shot that you can almost see the pores in her skin.
If this is normal cellulite, and Kate is just like you and me, it is only visible to her most intimate chums and snappers with zoom lenses.
And, in any case, what with this being Kate, chances are that cellulite will become the next big thing. As the Mail thundered at the time of her exposure as an, alleged, taker of cocaine, once Kate has it, we all want it.
So look out for women displaying their cellulite with pride and teenage girls sticking orange peel to their legs in a desperate attempt to look fashionable…
Swapsies
MARIA de la Cruz is Ecuador’s “answer to Posh Spice,” say both the Mirror and Sun.
Question marks have long hung over Posh – Does she eat? Can she sing? Are they real? – but we have yet to be furnished with a definitive answer. But now we have one.
Maria is revealed to be the 25-year-old wife of Ecuador’s Ulises. She has a daughter called Samantha, braces on her teeth and a pair of black combat trousers.
And the similarities between the two women do not end there. As Maria tells the Sun: “I’m not famous in Ecuador, it’s just my husband who is well known.” She goes on to say that Victoria Beckham is a “very special woman”, and that rather than shopping she has spent her time in Germany taking her daughter for walks in the park.
While Posh and her cohorts spend £10,000 flying three beauticians to Germany to spay them an orangey brown colour (Mirror: “EN-GER-TANNED”), Maria is naturally olive skinned.
It’s hard not to like Maria, the only wife or girlfriend of an Ecuador player able to afford the trip to Germany, as the Mirror claims.
And we would like to put in a transfer request, taking Maria to Blighty in a swap deal that would see Posh go to South America.
But any deal might be complicated by a revelation in the Mail. We are shocked to report that Posh has a bald spot on her head.
While only small, the patch will surely dent Posh’s value in the transfer market. If all her hair goes, she will finally look like a true lollipop, of the type once sucked on by Kojak.
We should push for the transfer as early as possible…
Urban Truths
NICOLE Kidman is so very much in love.
Not that dreamy schoolgirl love, where everything is tinged in soft pastels, bird song and lasts “4 Eva”.
No, Nicole’s love is of an altogether more pragmatic kind. As the Mail says, she has asked her soul mate, the singer Keith Urban, to sign a pre-nuptial agreement.
For every year he and Nicole remain married, he will earn £350,000. The caveat is that should he use illegal drugs or alcohol “to excess” the deal will become null and void.
“Nicole did not want to force Keith to sign anything as she is convinced that they really will last but her advisers were quite strict on the issue,” says a source.
Sure. What can be more trusting that discussing your forthcoming marriage with a team of lawyers? Who needs bridal showers when you can invite the suits round for a night of contract writing on baby pink notepaper?
And to discuss that they means by “excessive” use to booze and drugs over cocktails of bile and human blood…
Pulling The Wool
PETE Doherty is an inspiration. And to our mind, it is he who has inspired artist Damien Hirst to “new heights of creativity or new depths of crudity”.
The Mail takes a look at the artist’s latest offering, rubs its chin and wonders what it should make of it all.
For your information, the piece, entitled The Tranquillity of Solitude (For George Dryer) features a shorn sheep sat on a toilet. There’s a hypodermic syringe jabbed into its leg. The animal’s head it thrown back in an expression of what the Mail takes to be a “scream of agony” but others may see as a euphoric release.
The Mail says the work is inspired by paintings by artist Francis Bacon for his lover George Dryer. The Mail says Dryer was found dead on the toilet, having taken a dose of heroin.
And not everyone is impressed by it. David Lee, editor of The Jackdaw art magazine, calls it “utterly insignificant”. The Mail’s art critic, Robin Simon, calls it “boring”.
Which is presumably why the Mail sees fit to feature the worthless and dull work over an entire page, in full and glorious colour.
Surely the critics and the paper have missed the point. We are unsure what their point is but pretty certain the paper and experts have missed it.
And expect it has something to do with Pete Doherty and what might have occurred onboard an easyJet flight to Barcelona…
Call Me Wasted
CRAIG Charles should know that when it comes to celebrity drugs takers he is on the C-list.
For a look at how a professional gets off his face, how a (Class) A-lister goes about marrying drugs with celebrity, he should study the Peter Doherty master class.
The Sun looks on as Doherty’s Jaguar is towed away from outside his London home. It seems he owes almost £3,000 in parking fines and refuses to contest them in court or pay.
Doubtless this episode will form a vital and illuminating part of Pete’s life story. And, wouldn’t you know it, but Pete has just landed a £150,000 deal to write about his life so far.
It promises to be a cracking read. And all the more so if Pete can leave out the bits about his life before Kate Moss and those parts that do not directly involve the model. The bits about his cars he can leave in.
Problem is that Kate is reported to be “petrified” about what Pete will reveal.
Of course Pete will have to remember what he and Kate got up to – no small challenge for a man so often under the influence of memory erasing substances.
But if Pete gets stuck, unsure of what occurred on a given day, he can always get hold of some old copies of the Mirror, and therein learn what he got up to.
Indeed, readers may like to save themselves the expense of buying Pete’s tome and just stick a few old copies of the Mirror together. And if they can squirt some blood all over the pages, so much the more authentic it will be…
Craig’s To Do List
“I’LL do rehab,” says the headline. And after doing drugs and prostitutes, allegedly, rehab will make a nice change for shamed Coronation Street actor Craig Charles.
As is the way with such stories of sleaze and extra-martial sex, with the story at its apogee the perpetrator is seen out and about with their spouse.
And so it is that Mirror readers see both Craig (smiling) and wife Jackie (not smiling) walking arm in arm. Both are wearing dark sunglasses.
Craig says he has been “devastated and humbled” by the Mirror’s “revelation” that he took 60 hits of crack cocaine on a four hour journey from London to Manchester.
And now the man known as Crackpipe Craig promises to get help. But it may be too late to save his carer.
As the Star delicately puts it, “Corrie crackhead Craig Charles” has been told by his Coronation Street co-stars that they will not work with him.
His “cocaine and porn-fuelled lifestyle” has upset them. “We don’t want to work with the bloke again – simple as that,” says one actor, billed as a “household favourite”. “Nobody cared for him much beforehand but this seals it.”
The paper says Craig is in hiding (see photos of him and his wife hiding in the Mirror).
But all may not be lost. A source close to Craig tells the Mirror that he “knows what he has to do to have a chance to being allowed to stay in the show.”
So Craig is looking to get medical help. He wants to “overcome his demons”. And we wish him well with it. If it worked for Kate Moss – like Craig, her, alleged, taste for drugs was exposed by the Mirror – then it can work for Craig.
And if he can return to full health with sharper cheekbones, blonder hair and his feet adorned by a pair of killer heels, so much the better for his future earnings…
Wag The Dogs
“WHAT’S going on? We have children and pregnant women here and have been waiting hours?”
You join us not at a UN food drop site in deepest Africa, nor onboard a stricken and sinking boat in the Indian Ocean but at Cologne Airport, where Victoria Beckham is causing a stink.
Having endured England’s 2-2 draw with Sweden, Posh and her legion of professional shoppers boarded a coach to the airport.
After two-hours on public transport, Posh, her eldest son Brooklyn and the walking mass of spray-on tan and painted nails that is the WAGS (media speak for footballers’ wives and girlfriends) arrived at the airport.
But their private plane was not ready to take off to the team’s base in Baden Baden. They would have to wait. And, no, there was nowhere to get a drink. Hell, there was nowhere even to buy a dress or a pair of to-die-for shoes. “What is going on here?” asked Her Poshness. “A dog gets better treatment than this.”
A rather unfortunate comparison, it must be said. And one that made no difference. Posh just got hotter under her turned up collar. And a full one hour after the scheduled departure time, they were in the air.
This gives the Mirror its front-page headline “WAG RAGE” and causes the Sun to talk about “WAGS FURY”.
But over in the Star, readers get an alternative explanation. They learn that the Wags took so long to get to the airport because one of them needed the toilet. This caused them to miss the chance to follow the players’ on their bus.
What one of them needed the toilet for is a crucial detail left out of the Star’s report.
And we imagine a young woman pausing for an emergency spritz of an orangey tanning product and to scrawl “Two World Wars & One World Cup” and “Feed Me” on a cubicle wall…
Causing A Stink
WE have not yet taken a whiff of Jade Goody’s new perfume.
But we read with interest that if Eau de Kebab is not your bag then the perfume doubles up as a personal security spray, a kind of mace with a chilli sauce motif.
The Mirror says that while out promoting her odour at London’s “plush” Embassy club, Jade found cause to spray her lover Jack Tweedy in the face with her trademark concoction.
The paper says that Jack was upset by Jade’s antics, which included: doing handstands; turning cartwheels; pole dancing; and making eyes at Big Brother reject Sezer.
A pal of the would-be Olga Korbut says Jade was even doing the wheel barrow with her mate to impress Sezer, with whom she is said to have flirted.
Upset by that, Jack took the matter in hand and in an effort to attract attention away from Sezer and into himself began moonwalking across the dance floor.
Amazingly, that failed to get the girl. And after Jade and Sezer has danced together (a reworking of the John Travolta and Uma Thurman dance from the movie Pulp Fiction), Jack barged into Sezer.
Things were said. Perfume was sprayed. Dogs picked up the scent and grew hungry…
Herr She Goes
BY way of own goals and good fortune, England are still in the World Cup. And the Sun brings more news of the players’ lovers and wives.
There’s a picture of Victoria Beckham. She’s dressed in a tiny pair of denim hotpants and an orangey tan. And there’s a picture of Melanie Slade, lover of England’s resident bellboy Theo Walcott. She wears a pair of jeans and a leopard-print top.
And there’s Coleen McLoughlin. Or, rather, there was Coleen. As the Mail reports, Coleen has had to leave the party in a “mercy dash”. Coleen has flown 900 miles home to have her hair done.
“Before I left for Germany,” says Coleen, in a voice that makes whales sit up and listen, “I had copper and blonde hair extensions put in.”
She goes on: “I liked them at first, but after a while I decided I preferred my usual look.”
So she had the false hair unwoven from her scalp and her own locks dyed to her “original” colour.
While we salute Coleen’s dedication to England’s World Cup campaign, some people are less than happy. Richard Dryer, of Friends of the Earth, says Coleen’s flight caused massive “environmental damage”.
He is, however, prepared to afford Coleen the benefit of the doubt and says that she “is probably unaware” of how hazardous to Mother Earth a short trip home to the hairdressers is.
And perhaps equally unaware that if England don’t start playing better, she only has to wait another week or so to make the journey home with Wayne Rooney and the rest of the England party…
Street Walking
AFTER the tale of Two John Prescotts, the Mirror sticks with its own story of confused identities.
Someone should tell the paper that Coronation Street actor Craig Charles is not a Kate Moss look-alike.
But having scored a hit with those infamous shots of ‘Cocaine’ Kate in a London recording studio, the Mirror is now the paper of celebrity drugs, and duly brings news of the lumpy-faced Charles.
After yesterday’s shots of Charles taking what might have been crack cocaine in the back of a car, the Mirror’s front page shouts: “THE £25,000 DRUGS BINGE.”
“SHAMED” Charles, says the paper, has spent £25,000 on drugs and sex. The whistleblower is Charles’s personal driver Richard McKenna. And he recalls one journey with his client.
They were driving by London’s King’s Cross station, and Charles spotted a prostitute on the street. McKenna says Charles called her over and, allegedly, secured her services for a share of his crack. The pair then made their way to a Travelodge hotel and “started to smoke the Class A drug”.
“At noon the next day, I knocked on Craig’s room and was invited in,” says McKenna. “He was in bed with the girl. She was helping him learn lines for Coronation Street.”
McKenna says the girl called Charles a “sad case”. He says he told Charles that he was “risking so much” by hiring this prostitute and taking drugs.
Indeed, he was. Not least of all was the risk Charles ran of his driver telling his story to the national press.
And now there is a risk to Charles’s acting career. The Mail says his career is “in tatters”. The Star says he has been ordered to stay away from the TV studios where the hit soap opera is filmed. And the Sun says “Crackpipe Craig” has been suspended for his role as a – irony of ironies – taxi driver.
But Charles should not fret. Now he is “Crackpipe Craig” he can do as ‘Cocaine Kate’ did and turn the bad news to his advantage.
It won’t be long before the modelling contracts come rolling in, and Charles’s is soaring higher than a… well, an actor in a Travelodge…
Two Prezzas
BEFORE John Prescott came to the fore, David King was just another burly man with a side parting.
Then Prescott arrived on our TV screens. Not only did the Deputy Prime Minister own a couple of Jaguars and a decent right jab but he could pull the birds.
King liked what he saw. He realised that if Prezza could be successful, then so could he. And looking just like Two Shags wouldn’t hurt.
The Mail places a shot of the original model standing with his secretary Tracey Temple next to another shot of King with a blonde of his own, the fragrant Anthea Major. The likeness is unnerving.
And while we read that King met Anthea through an online dating agency, our mind whirls. As the Mirror reports in “Con Prescott” that King told Anthea he was Prescott’s cousin, an untruth supported by his red Jaguar, we think on.
While reading that King spun the same story to Monica Walford, whom he also met on the dating agency, we wonder.
As Preston Crown Court hears how King wanted money to publish a book of poetry – ironically called The Revelation of St John The Divine – and that Monica gave him £9,000 and Anthea £1,500 to the project, we look again at the Mail’s pictures.
And we are struck by a thought. What if King is not King at all? What if King is John Prescott and Prescott is King?
If so, and if presiding Judge Stuart Baker is good to his word and sends the conman down, it could be Prescott who ends up in choky.
And how wrong would that be?
Hammering Home The Message
IF Jade Goody were a tool, what tool would she be?
We could expand the question into the greater world of light entertainment, and perhaps make an animated series featuring our best-loved celebrities as tools.
That for later. For now, we hear car passenger Matt Clifford look across at Jade and tell the Sun, She seems great fun, but is not the sharpest tool in the box.
Matt was happy to see Jade driving her Porsche on a motorway slip road. To help him recall his brush with fame, Matt lifted his camera phone and duly snapped the Big Brother star. At which moment, Jade lifted her mobile phone and began text messaging.
This is not a clever thing to do. As the Sun puts it in a big print headline: Texting at 50mph on motorway, NOT a Goody idea, Jade.
Even a blunt tool like Jade can surely understand that message.
A Proper Charlie
DRUGS can really change you.
Looking at the picture, we note that her hair is no longer blonde and shiny. Her skin is darker and hairy. Gone is the elfin frame, replaced by a studier torso and chunky arms.
Dutifully, the Mirror tells us that this drug taker is dressed in a white shirt and dark jacket.
But the Mirrors cover shot of a celebrity taking what looks like drugs does not feature Kate Moss, and we are relieved.
This front-page picture, taken on a car journey from London to Manchester, stars Coronation Street actor and BBC radio DJ Craig Charles.
CORRIE STAR ON CRACK, screams the front-page headline. Charles smokes himself into a stupor. And over five pages, readers see the actor doing just as promised.
The action begins at 00:49, and Charles, seated in the back of a car, has collected his drugs and is making holes in a can as he prepares for a binge. He is being filmed by a kind of onboard video camera.
One minute on, and he tips the crack into an indent on the empty container. At 00:51, he uses a lighter to ignite the concoction. We learn that he has made a makeshift pipe. And at 1:01, he takes the first of the 60 hits he will inhale in the next four hours.
And there we must end things. This is fast turning into a crack tacking masterclass. The information is in depth and detailed. We even learn that having taken the drug, Charles sits vacantly staring into space. He is sweating. His eyes dart from side to side. His eyes then bulge.
In his defence, we do hear that before taking drugs, Charles asked the driver Do you mind? In the course of the trip, Charles politely asks: You couldnt stop off at this garage, get some English ones?
The driver pulls over, dashes over to the shop and returns with two pornographic magazines, both written in English.
And so it goes. But it will not go on for very much longer, not with the Mirror on the case.
Having exposed Kate Moss as a woman who might or might not have taken drugs, the Mirror says it is out to get Charles. It is making its dossier of evidence available to the police.
And the police will surely look at it with a keen eye. And then decide that Charles might have taken drugs and he might not have.
Leaving the Mail to run a story about how much the fruitless investigation cost, and Charles free to model mobile phones…
StandardsAre Slipping
THEYRE just like us. Those celebrities are no better than you and me.
Take a look at Michael Douglas in the Mail. Sure he has a remarkably wrinkle-free face, but he does have a haggard turkey neck, and that should give solace to us all.
The papers cosmetic expert Marry Burney says that the 61-year-old has had a facelift. And she suggests Michael has also had some skin peels and Botox.
And then theres the papers shot of Julia Roberts. Greeting fans on New Yorks Broadway, the actress goes walkabout in a red and pink knee-length Vivienne Tam dress.
And the Mail says it has seen this outfit before. Julia has caused raised eyebrows among fashionistas, albeit just those with faces that can still move.
But when did Julia wear the garment before? The Mail knows and produces a shot of the last time the dress got an airing. Theres Julia wearing the gown as she salutes the London crowds at the premier of her Notting Hill movie seven years ago.
That was the night Julia bared her hairy armpits to the world. At the time Julia said: Youd think it was like chinchilla I had under there the way the world responded.
Indeed, we were shocked shocked that Julias underarm hair was not fashioned from a chinchilla pelt or at least the fur from a dead mink.
Like Michael Douglass face, standards are slipping in Hollywood…
Celebrity Colonialism
BRAD Pitt and Angelina Jolie might have saved the planet, but they are now under attack.
As the Mirror reports, Namibias National Society for Human Rights has accused the stars of behaving like colonial overlords, perpetrators of what writer Brendan ONeill has called celebrity colonialism.
And, as the paper says, the NSHR do not want to see the Jolie-Pitts back in the sands any time soon. They used heavy-handed and brutal tactics to get everyone to pander to their whims.
As a spokesman for the organisation says: To shut down a national border so she can give birth in peace is a massive abuse of power.
Indeed it is. And now the overlords are back in the States, we are concerned that America will close its borders to the world. A new era of American isolationalism could be upon us…
Guts & Garters
THE Mail carries no pictures of Prince Eddie (The Weed In Tweed) being enrolled into the Order of the Garter, Britains highest order of chivalry.
But being gallant, courteous and chivalrous, we are sure that if the paper asks in the proscribed fashion, Eddie will be only too happy to roll up his trouser leg and show us his spanking new garter.
What we do have is picture of Prince Andrew. He has also become a member of the elite group, having, like Eddie, been put up for selection by Her Majesty, aka mummy.
And watching Andrew receive his garter were his two children, Eugenie and Beatrice, and ex-wife, Sarah Duchess of York.
As the Mail says, this is Sarahs first public appearance with the Royal Family since her divorce ten years ago.
Back then, as the paper reminds us, Prince Philip regarded Sarah as an abomination. And she has not forgotten it. As a friend of the Duchess tells us, It should not be taken as a signal that Sarah will be attending these kind of events regularly.
Indeed it should not. But we did behave well. And we point out that Sarah neither sucked a single toe nor executed a Philipesque guff throughout.
Although there is always next time…
A Smallpox On Britain
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.
Here is a selection of things that will kill you and yours from last week’s paper of doom…
MONDAY
“False trails and Keystone Cops raids. Is humiliating our security services the latest Al Qaeda weapon?” – Well, better than bombs, Melanie Philips
TUESDAY
“Sorry Mr Reid, when our streets are no-go zones and our legal system protects thugs we’ve every damn right to moan” – Francis Gilbert moans at Home Secretary John Reid
“Top Gear glorifies speed and aggressive driving’” – The Department of Transport’s Respect on the Road report disapproves of Jeremy Clarkson
WEDNESDAY
“We must live on other planets or be wiped out, says [Stephen] Hawking” – Luckily Mail readers already do
“HOW COULD I DO THIS TO MY BOYS?” As a nurse Jayne Phillips should have known better. But with the debate about childhood obesity raging, she admits, with utter honesty, how she nearly killed her sons by lavishing so much food on them they could hardly stand up” – Or run away from mummy dearest
“Rubbish tax’ would turn countryside into a dumping ground’” – So says retired clergy man, the Reverend Alfred Ridley, who might or might no be an expert on rubbish
THURSDAY
“DNA for smallpox virus available on the Internet” – and there were Mail reader thinking you could only buy Viagra
“I grow more fearful that devolution will lead to the break-up of the UK” – Welcome to Daily Mail Island
“Hospitals may close to solve cash crisis, warns NHS chief” – So says Sir Ian Caruthers, head of the health service
“Cheap parasols that are putting babies in danger” – They don’t keep the sun’s ray’s off
FRIDAY
“Is living on the moon REALLY a lunatic idea” – Not much atmosphere, but then no hoodies, asylum seekers, Big Brother, fizzy bear, Australians…
“Allow too many people in, and the joy of being British is lessened for everyone – black, brown, gentile and Jew alike” – And let’s not forget whites (like the article’s author, Tom Utley)
“Now everyone’s got a get out of jail free card, except the law-abiding” – Well, they wouldn’t need one
“GPs ‘have no confidence in NHS reforms”” – So says Dr Hamish Meldrum, “a leading doctor”
“How ‘boring’ playgrounds drive children to anger” – David Yearly, of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, says no fun at the swings means children go looking for danger
“Who did we think we were kidding – Soup plates as land mines, opera glasses to spot the enemy and golf clubs for rifles. A new book reveals how a brave but almost comically unready Britain prepared for repel the Nazi invasion” – Good job we also had lots of real guns and America
SUNDAY
“Why every home in Britain should have a Taser gun” – So says David Davies, Toy MP for Monmouth. Well, a jot of electricity will teach canvasers to knock on our door uninvited
Now He’s 64
LIKE you we had planned to celebrate Paul McCartneys 64th birthday by going bald, digging the weeds and sending him a postcard stating our point of view that he is better off without Heather Mills.
But things did not go to plan. Instead of so much old-age fun, the Sun says Paul shelved plans for a big birthday bash in favour of a small family barbecue.
The paper says that Paul was too hurt from his split with Heather to host a party, preferring to eat veggie burgers with his four adult children, his brother Mike and two-year-old daughter Beatrice.
The Mail says Paul was entertained by his childrens version of his hit song When Im 64, and even managed to smile.
And he may still have been smiling when Heather turned up and dropped off a birthday greeting and a bottle of wine…
Get Our Rocks Off
WE are used to seeing the great and good trotting up to charity dos and other worthy events dressed in the finest jewels.
But jewellers who loan their trinkets out should beware. We cast no aspersions on the celebrity liggers who borrow the stuff, and only suggest that on return the goods are appraised for authenticity.
Did what leave the shop a huge rock of diamond return as a cube of paste? Is that emerald now just a shard of broken beer bottle? Is platinum so much tin foil?
And what happened to the £26,000 diamond bracelet model Sophie Anderton borrowed from jewellers Boodles?
Having borrowed the bracelet for a night out during the course of which she posed by a shoe-shaped cake and was seen canoodling with Guns N Roses singer Axl Rose Sophie and trinket became separated.
Sophie says she is extremely distressed. Says she in the Sun: The bracelet was stolen off my arm. Ive worn it before and it has never fallen off. She says she wants the culprit caught and the bracelet returned.
And now the police are involved. The Sun says Sophie waited six days to report the bangle missing, and will now be sued for its value.
Any action against her will be most vigorously defended, says Sophies lawyer Eddie Parladorio.
And indeed it should be. And we can only hope the bracelet is soon found. Its a distinctive band made of five interlocking bottle tops attached to a piece of fuse wire.
