Bone Meal

‘NEWS now to shock. Calista Flockhart, the actress who modelled herself on Kojak’s lollipop and became a TV star in Ally McBeal, does not suffer from “tiny bones”.

At the height of her popularity in the 1990s, stick-thin, round-headed Flockhart was constantly being chivvied about her weight.

But it was not her fault. Flockhart had been cursed with those aforesaid “tiny bones”. She had a “healthy appetite”. If she had disproved the Hollywood axiom and become too thin it was not out of choice. It was just the way she was made.

But now, as the Mirror reports, Flockhart says she was too thin. “I started under-eating, over-exercising, pushing myself too hard and brutalising my immune system,” says she. “I just didn’t find the time to eat.”

While said immune system contacts lawyer and contemplates suing the actress for abuse of privilege, we read that in 1998, 5ft 5in Flockhart weighed less then seven stone – mostly in bone…’

Posted: 7th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Oxford Ho!

‘STANDARDS. It is all about standards. And we are less then heartened to learn that the president of the Oxford University Boat Club overdid it after his side’s victory in the Boat Race and ended up in choky.

“Off His Boat Race,” says the Sun in the vernacular of Cockney rhyming slag, looking on as Barney Williams, 29, is pinched for what he calls “exuberant celebration”.

After his team had won the race, Williams was spotted by CCTV “acting drunkenly” in Oxford. A friend of his is filmed urinating in a bin. Williams – a law student – is caught on camera “vandalising” a bike. The Mirror says Williams threw objects onto the road.

Both urinator and vandal were arrested and spent the night in the clinker. And Williams was presented with a £80 fixed penalty notice.

Williams has now apologised. He thanks the local constabulary for ensuing that he and his pal ended up in a safer place than the side of the road, and regrets that in dealing with them, Bosher Street’s finest were unable “to provide protection for others who may have needed it more”.

In keeping with this story, which seems plucked from the pages of Bertie Wooster’s memoirs, Williams might have added a “Forsooth!”. Before returning home to wife Buffy and son Tarvin…’

Posted: 7th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Muggle Headed

‘“DUDLEY looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.” That’s what JK Rowling said of Harry Potter’s nemesis Dudley Dursley in book one of her Devilish works.

We mention this in light of comments made by Rowling on her official website, and picked up on by the Mirror.

Rowling, a mother of three, is disgusted at skinny models, or “empty-headed self obsessed, emaciated clones” as she describes them.

She is appalled that “talking toothpick” types – see vacuous Paris Hilton and lollypop-shaped Victoria Beckham – are held up as role models.

We live in a “skinny-obsessed” world, says the author. She reads an interview with model (nameless) and notes with disgust her “concave stomach, protruding ribs and stick-like arms”. This model says she eats loads and has a very fast metabolism. Rowling says the girl’s figure tells a different story. “This girl needs help but the world being what it is, they’re sticking her on magazine covers instead,” says she.

And there is more horror. Rowling talks with friends, telling her that “fat” is often the first insult a girl hurls at another to cause hurt. The friend is shocked. She then compares this to yelling “thicko” at Stephen Hawking.

We have looked at a file photo of Mr Hawking, an author in his own right, and can say with no hint of doubt that he is far from fat.

We also note that the Lucasian Professor of mathematics at the University of Cambridge (a post once held by Sir Isaac Newton), suffers from tetraplegia. Yelling insults at a man so awfully crippled is far from pleasant, even if he is denser than Lebesgue’s density theorem.

But before we dwell too long on Hawking’s mental capacity, Rowling ponders how “strange and sick the ‘fat’ insult is”. And she has a question: “Is fat the worst thing a human being can be? Is fat worse then vindictive, jealous, shallow, vain, boring or cruel?”

We think not. And, considering Rowling comments on her large boned Dursley character, we suggest that fat is merely shorthand for all those things and more…’

Posted: 6th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Crossing Jordan

‘“‘I DON’T love you any more, Katie.’ Peter’s words cut me like a knife and tears streamed down my face. ‘You can’t mean it,’ I said. ‘I love you.’ ‘It’s all right, baby,’ cooed Peter. ‘You were only dreaming.’”

It is easy to forgive Jordan her mental slip – confusing dreams with reality is so very easy when you are married to pint-sized Australian hunk Peter Andre and living the wonderful life.

Happily for us, Katie Price-Andre-Jordan has found time in her hectic schedule of magazine photoshoots and breast implanting to write a follow up to her autobiography Being Jordan.

In this weighty tome, an extract from which began this piece, Jordan lets us in on a Whole New World, reminding us that somewhere under the layers of make-up, the hair extensions, those gargantuan Jordans and Pete lies a woman.

And, like any woman, Katie has her insecurities. The Mirror has read Katie’s book, or at least bits of it, and wondered what the woman she refers to a “Lisa” looks like.

This “Lisa” is Peter Andre’s former lover, the woman of whom Katie writes: “He admitted that he’d s****ed her more than once…and he tried to laugh it off, saying he’d got cheap flights out of her.”

Therein lay the clues. And the Mirror duly brought the full might of its journalist skills to the case. Who was Lisa? And what did Katie mean by cheap flights?

And now we know. Lisa is one Nirmala Burns, a Virgin airhostess, a woman who looks not too unlike a wider-hipped version of Pete.

For her part, Nirmala has not responded to Katie’s accusations that she is a “cheeky bitch”, stopping only to offer a choice of tea or coffee and to point towards the emergency exits…’

Posted: 6th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Shady Deals

‘IT’S front-page news. It must be big. And it is. As the Sun announces: “EMINEM DIVORCE.”

A mere 82 days after retying the knot in a second marriage to Kimberley, the singer has had enough. “IT’S A RAP,” says the Sun as Eminem files for divorce.

“HIP HOP IT, Kim!” puns the Star, saying that Eminem has cancelled the honeymoon, scheduled for this summer.

Over in the Mirror, Eminem’s grandmother, Betty Kresion, is heard saying that Kim has “brainwashed” her kinfolk. “Boy has he made a big mistake. With no prenup or nothing! She’ll take everything. I think he’s crazy.”

Perhaps he is. But why have the couple split? Kim is the muse who has given the singer some of his finest moments, from the tattoo “Kim: Rot in Pieces” inked onto his chest to the lyrics: “You make me f***in’ sick to my stomach, Every time I think of you, I puke.”

No Kim could well mean that Eminem is no longer able to draw on that well of emotion that gets his gastric juices flowing.

We urge him to reconsider…’

Posted: 6th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

The Clash Of Civilisations

‘OLD punks never die – they just give their Mohicans a blue rinse.

Here comes one now. It’s Johnny Rotten, and he’s on stage at the Brits to pick up a Life Time Achievement Award on behalf of the remaining Sex Pistols.

Johnny’s snarling like an OAP trying to extract a sticky toffee from their dentures. He’s got bright orange hair, like Coronation Street’s septuagenarian shopkeeper Rita. And he is not to be messed with.

Rotten is dangerous. He wants anarchy in the UK. He sings about there being “no future” and “H bombs”. He wants to “destroy the passerby”.

But times have changed. Rotten’s antics may spice up the moribund Brit Awards in 2007, as the Sun says they are intended to, but there is a war on terror going on. Rotten makes a convincing case for being “pretty vacant”, but the authorities are taking no chances and he is being dragged away for questioning.

If you doubt that could happen consider the Mirror’s story of Harraj Mann, 24. While on a taxi ride to Durham Tees Valley airport, Mann plugged in his MP3 player and began singing along to the tunes.

A rendition of Procol Harem’s Whiter Shade of Pale passed off without incident, as ever. The driver liked it but was less keen on Mann’s next number, Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song.

Still the music played on. And up next was The Clash. As Mann says: “Then, since I was going to London I played The Clash.” And so it was that London Calling was blasted out.

To help readers sing along, the Sun prints the lyrics of the band’s great hit. “New war is declared.” “Engines stop running.” “Meltdown” is “expected”. And Mann – an Asian – is about to get on a plane.

Without a moment to lose, the cabbie calls the cops. Mann is already on the plane. But it’s not too late, and two men race onboard and frogmarch Mann off for questioning.

The Mirror says Mann was interrogated for three hours by Special Branch officers. “What’s this about engines failing? When is the meltdown? War is declared! On whom?”

And such antics are not without precedent. As the Sun says, back in 1994, Mike Devine was arrested when Special Branch intercepted an innocent text message about The Clash song Tommy Gun. That tune includes the lines “Maybe he wants to die for the money” and “Standing there in Palestine lighting the fuse”.

Of course, ever the punk at heart, Mann, his liberty restored, says he can laugh about the incident, even if his family are furious.

And we hope Johnny Rotten also sees the funny side of life as he is hauled off the stage muttering about anarchy and the price of a blue rinse…’

Posted: 5th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Rock ‘N’ Rolls

‘IS it any wonder the doyens of the Brits music awards need the aged Sex Pistols to enliven the show when today’s stars are as exciting as yesterday’s cheddar cheese?

Take Oasis’s front man Liam Gallagher. He’s bad to the bone. He’s dangerous. And just as soon as his personal trainer has rolled up his legwarmers for the day, Gallagher will stick two fingers up to the world.

As the Sun hears someone close to Gallagher say: “Liam has become quite self conscious recently about his belly.”

Well, he doesn’t want to turn into a lard arse, like some of our other stars. In a rare departure from staring at women, the papers have taken to staring at man.

And though we don’t get to see a shot of Gallagher’s paunch, the Star does have a shot of Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen wallowing in a Caribbean swimming pool.

To reduce the glare from this hairless expanse of quivering alabaster skin, the Changing Rooms designer manfully holds a white umbrella over his head.

And then there’s the Mail’s shot of Jeremy Clarkson. He’s also in the Caribbean. He’s standing in a pair of revolting swimming trunks, the lower part of his body neatly shaded by an overhanging belly.

Clarkson is letting it all hang out – unlike David Hasselhoff. Filming Baywatch on a beach in Hawaii, the Mirror produces two photographs of Hasselhoff in his red shorts.

In one he spots the camera, sticks out his chest and sucks in his tummy. In another, Hasselhoff is relaxed, and so too his belly, which appears as a hairier and browner version of Gallagher, Llewelyn-Bowen’s and Clarkson’s.

And then there are those breasts…’

Posted: 5th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Raving Mad

‘EXPERIMENTING with drugs is not clever. And we are not just talking about the mystery clubber who tells the world via the Star’s front page: “I TOOK 40,000 ECSTASY TABS…25 pills a day EVERY day.”

As the Star puts it, “E’s crazy”. And nothing like Raste Kahn. Khan was one of the lucky ones who were given placebos in the recent drugs trials of TGN 1412, which left six people in terrible pain and fighting for their lives. One, Ryan Wilson, remains critically ill.

Khan tells the Mail that he is seeking compensation for the trauma. Though not given the drug that turned his fellow guinea pigs into Elephant Men, he could have been, and that is bad enough.

Understandably, Khan has decided never to go back to the clinic in North London. Never again will he allow scientists to test drugs on his body. Problem is that if he doesn’t agree to participate in more tests he will forfeit his £2,000 fee.

Kahn says he has received no communication from Parexel, the US firm that tested the drug on behalf of German developer TeGenerao, other than a telephone message warming him to attend a follow-up test on pain of forgoing his fee.

Should Khan go? Would you go? Or would you need some Dutch courage. Or to have lost your mind on 40,000 es?’

Posted: 5th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Families Reunited

‘CAN it really be to two years since Coleen McLoughlin turned 18? Our training in GCSE maths tells us it must be because Wayne Rooney’s chavtastic lover has just turned 20.

Two years ago, Coleen’s party took in a do at Liverpool’s Devonshire House hotel – and a fight when the birthday girl’s dad and three of his friends took on Rooney’s uncle Eugene and father Wayne Snr.

This time Coleen was taking no chances. As the Mail says, the McLoughlins and the Rooneys have massed in two separate Liverpool venues. They were reminded that this was a party not a rematch before being bundled into separate vans and driven to the Manchester venue.

The only time the two sets of supporters communicated on the hour-long driver was when the two drivers flashed their lights at each other. Consulting the Morse Code handbook we realise that in the course of this illuminated exchange, Wayne’s dad might have called Coleen’s old fella something unsavoury, while Coleen senior questioned what kind of man is called Eugene.

But we digress, and return to see the travelling fans arrive at the Lounge Ten restaurant. The place has been done up to look like the Moulin Rouge. And, as the Mail says, Coleen’s pals have entered into the spirit of the Parisian red light district’s famous nightclub with “cleavages wobbling” and “thighs straining against skinny jeans”.

Loosened up on alcopops and larger, the birthday girl, assorted Waynettas and non-fighting men settle down to a meal of foie gras, crème brulee and sautéed scallop and salmon starters, chased by a main course of lamb, beef or caramelised skate.

This is all helped on its way by lashing of fine wine and vintage champagne. And to burn off any excess, there is dancing to the syncopated strains of two singers belting out Billy Holiday and Frank Sinatra classics.

Coleen then plugs in the karaoke machine and sings a Girls Aloud Song. Wayne burst balloons, inhales helium and does a passable impression of David Beckham.

And a cake covered in miniature carrier bags is unveiled. The Sun has a shot of this cake, which features small plastic bags from some of Coleen favourite shops (Gucci, Chloe, Prada and Primark).

Coleen is delighted. The band strikes up and the entire room bursts into a rendition of New York New York and My Way before the guests stumble into waiting minibuses and make the journey back to Liverpool.

As a source tells the Mirror: “Col seemed quite embarrassed – but too happy to care.” Well, it is a whole year before she has to see everyone again…’

Posted: 4th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Not So Goody

‘“JADE NICKED,” says the Sun’s front-page headline. “Cops quiz star over row.”

What’s this? The nation’s foremost kebab flasher in trouble with the law? We do as ordered and turn to page 19, where “dimwit” Jade has indeed been pinched by the fuzz.

It seems it’s Goody by name and maybe not by nature as Jade is accused of failing to pay a cab fare. It is alleged, m’lud, that the reality TV product refused to pay a £65 taxi bill accrued on a trip from a London club to her Essex home.

The cabbie complained, as is their wont, and Jade found herself helping police with their enquiries. Questions were asked – Jade is said to have asked: “Charged? What does that mean?”

And the upshot is that Jade has been released on bail pending further investigation.

But this is not all. Having left Harlow police station, Jade found a £80 parking ticket stuck on her car’s windscreen.

There seems to be some kind of message here. But we are struggling to think what it is. And we are less than certain Jade would understand it…’

Posted: 4th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Wings Of Love

‘THAT Condoleezza Rice and Jack Straw enjoy a close relationship is beyond question. Not only did the US Secretary of State visit Straw’s Blackburn locale, but after experiencing the wind, rain and holes, she is still talking to the Foreign Secretary. Indeed, they have embarked on a city break together.

The Mail has a shot of the couple talking as they continue their honeymoon in Baghdad. Condi appears to be speaking, and to her right Straw is regarding her with a goofy grin writ large on his face.

And while Straw laughs at all Condi’s jokes, the Sun gives us a clue to just how far things have progressed with the pair. Says the paper’s headline: “CONDI: YOU CAN HOP INTO MY BED, JACK…”

Those suspiration points promise much, and we turn to the Mail, and read more of the incident Westminster types are calling ‘Bedgate’.

The story goes that on the flight to Kuwait – from where the couple went on to Baghdad – Straw looked tired. Rice noticed and duly offered him the use of her private cabin and bed.

When asked about the incident, a Foreign Office spokesman snootily tells the Sun: “We are more interested in foreign policy than in which bed he slept in.”

They night be, but the Mirror is not. The paper is excited about “Rice’s shock offer”. And we wonder why two such powerful figures boarded a jet for a seven-hour flight with only one bed on board?

And what the effects of sleep depravation are on Straw’s bodily defences…’

Posted: 4th, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Road To Oblivion

‘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

“BETRAYAL OF THE ELDERY – Abuse and neglect in hospitals rife as Labour’s pledges go unfulfilled, says devastating report” – Report by Healthcare Commission, the Audit Commission and Commission for Social Care Inspection finds mixed wards and lack of care in NHS

“£1billion in the red – As NHS debt mounts, bosses prepare to axe thousands of staff”

“How society ‘suffers while mothers are out working’” – Professor Alison Wolf warns “the old, unpaid female labour force is now otherwise engaged”

“DR FINLAY’S CHEQUEBOOK – GPs used to work round the clock, for average pay, at the heart of our communities. Then Labour changed their contracts, cut their hours and made them the best paid doctors in Europe. So much for putting patients first…”

“Girl, ten, dies after three doctors fail to spot meningitis”

TUESDAY

“CAN YOU TRUST THE BACK CRACKERS?” – Are chiropractors doing more harm than good?

“Diabetics hit by insulin shortage” – Chemists are running out of the drug

“Did my mobile phone trigger my brain tumour” – Adrian Thompson wonders was caused his tumour

“Doctors said I had anorexia. But in truth a hidden cancer was killing me” – Caroline Lovell had a tumour the size of a grapefruit

WEDNESDAY

“NHS cash crisis may shut down hospital” – Delancey Rehabilitation and Assessment Hospital in Leckhampton may shut down. Or it may not

“IVF for the rich only?” – Professor Deborah Spar, of Harvard Business Scholl, says if prices continue to rise at private clinics, only the rich will be able to afford IVF

THURSDAY

“Risk of liver damage to weekend drinkers” – Doctors warn

“£2bn shortfall in NHS ‘may hit bird flu fight’” – So suggests a report in the Health Service Journal

“LONG HOURS AT THE OFFICE CAN LEAVE YOU ‘JETLAGGED’” – So say scientists at Ludwig Maximilians University in Munich

FRIDAY

“A woman addled by drink and lying semi-comatose in the street. No, not a depraved image portrayed by Hogarth, but a scene in the same street on a typical Thursday night in modern Britain – GIN LANE 2006”

“96 per cent of dentists expect shake-up to hit NHS patients” – Government contracts may be bad for your teeth’

Posted: 3rd, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Raving Madness

‘RANDY guests. Braying Hooray Henriettas. Snogging. Chuck in some toe sucking and a round of golf and Princess Eugenie Windsor’s 16th birthday party could have been any evening at home with her mum and dad.

But, as the Sun says, Sarah Ferguson and Prince Andrew were not at their Sunninghill mansion when Eugenie’s friends started rocking up to the do. Like any good parents, they had paid for the party (£30,000 for the Pirates of the Caribbean-themed bash) and then left. “Have a great time – enjoy yourself,” were Fergie’s parting words.

Caterers arrived with chilled champagne. Parma ham and melon, chicken and ice cream, and all manner of traditional pirate grub was served. And the young boys and gels settled down at table.

This would be a rebellious party. The assembled “toffs” would use the wrong forks to eat their melon, sip water from wine glasses and rakishly undo their top buttons.

But some partygoers had other ideas. In keeping with the pirate theme, they smuggled strong grog into the venue. And very soon, as one onlooker says, things got “out of control”.

Guests began trawling the place looking for “BEDROOMS” for “drunken romps”. Some “PASSED OUT”, unable to take the booze. Others “VOMITED”. The property was “TRASHED”.

“To be honest,” says one boy, described as “grinning”, “it was the best party I’ve ever been to. Everyone got p*****d straight away.”

Might it be that Eugenie is just a typical British teenager, albeit in a tiara, not pregnant and unburdened by an Asbo?

Could be. But we don’t see Eugenie drink. We hear no tales of how she overdid the cherry brandy and became entwined with young toff unknown.

What we do learn is that she became worried when someone tried to get into her mother’s bedroom, which was locked. “She was clearly getting upset,” says another eyewitness.

And she had every right to be concerned. Party over and there are, as reported, stains on the carpets and cigarette burns on floors and furniture. A cleaner sees empty bottles and broken glass. “It was like a bomb had gone off,” says the char.

Not that one had. The house is still standing. Even if Eugenie and her pals aren’t…’

Posted: 3rd, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Char (No) Lady

‘AS Princess Eugenie will discover, after your teenage years you have to wait until your dotage to get away with behaving badly.

The tricky bit is the middle section, the decades between college and care home. It’s full of broken hearts, disappointment and stress. Take a look at Charlotte Church.

From precocious talent to the Voice of an Angel, Church is now a wannabe pop star aged 20. And the Mirror spots her having a row with her boyfriend, orange-hued rugby player Gavin Henson.

She wants him to meet her at Cardiff’s Moloko club. The paper cocks an ear and hears Church screaming down her mobile phone: “Why did you sleep in the same bed as that girl?” After a while, Gavin appears.

Church confronts bleary-eyed Gavin. She “dragged” him inside the club. And then she “dragged” him outside the club. Now in the street, she “spat further insults at him”.

This is all a far cry from the round-faced little singer who first came to our attention. This is Church the chav, the drag act, rowing in public with her drunken lover.

An eyewitness sees Gavin fall into another man, try to start a fight and find he is too drunk to throw any punches.

The couple then weave their way to the nearby Marriott Hotel. Gavin crumples at a table and places his head in his arms.

This is a pretty clear sign that the row is at an end. Church goes home. And gets older…’

Posted: 3rd, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Straighten It Like Beckham

‘SO much for bend it like Beckham. The Mail says David Beckham has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and can only do things in straight lines.

As he says: “I have this obsessive compulsive disorder where I have to have everything in a straight line or everything in pairs.”

He counts clothes. He puts magazines in straight lines and symmetrical patterns. His tattoos are all part of his addiction to pain.

And wife Vicky can confirm the diagnosis. “Everything has to match in the house,” says she. “If there are three cans of [insert sponsor’s name here], he’d throw one way because it’s uneven.”

At which point we would like to point out that Dave has one wife and three children. And remind him that although we sympathise with his condition, getting rid of one of the nippers would be cruel.

Although slipping Posh between a couple of magazines on the shelf would be forgivable…’

Posted: 3rd, April 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Tara My Lover

‘THERE are awards and there are the Ariel High Street Fashion Awards.

And who better to present a gong on behalf of the white powder that is Ariel than former cocaine addict Tara Palmer-Tomkinson, the wealthy socialite who took the silver spoon from her mouth and shoved it up her nose.

But where is she? The great and good of the washing powder world are massed at the Natural History Museum, London, excited to see who will walk off with the prestigious Best Use of Egg Stains By A Celebrity trophy. But Tara isn’t there.

The Star pokes its head backstage and sees Tara sobbing. A source says T-P-T is sick of being asked about her alleged dalliance with singer James Blunt.

But, ever the pro, the show goes on. Tara dishes out the prize, and regains her composure long enough to tell the Mail about she and Blunt.

“If nothing had happened between James and I then I would have come right out and said nothing had happened,” says Tara. “And I haven’t done that, have I?”

No, she has not. So can we infer from her silence that she and the singer have shared intimate moments, as rumoured? “That’s your answer – it’s pretty easy to work out what I am saying. It’s not rocket science.”

Good that it isn’t. Tara is the ‘It’ girl who once claimed ‘my brain cell has just packed up again’. (Her host replied, ‘I know. I could see it sparkle.’)

This suggests that Blunt might have cheated on his heiress girlfriend Camilla Boler – a story at odds with the image of the doe-eyed crooner who had made his name singing love songs.

Although one of his hits is called Goodbye My Lover…’

Posted: 31st, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Keeping Her Powder Dry

‘AS Tara Palmer-Tomkinson has shown, one white powder can look very much like another. For cocaine, read Ariel washing powder. For talc, read amphetamine sulphate.

It takes an expert to spot the difference between one white powder and another. And so it is that police have employed an authority in such matters to help them build a case against Kate Moss.

Whether this connoisseur is or is not T-P-T, the Sun is unable to say – this is an ongoing criminal matter and the media can only probe so deep.

But, as the Star says, the case against Moss might hinge on whether or not those photographs of Kate in a recording studio showed her chopping and snorting cocaine or some other substance, like caster sugar, anthrax or sherbet dib-dab.

And unless the nature of the powder is established, police fear that Moss will tell the Beak the stuff was talc and she was just pretending to take cocaine.

A spokesperson for the Crown Prosecution Service tells the paper: “We are waiting for further evidence. We cannot make a final decision [to bring criminal charges against Moss] until we have had it all from the police.”

In the meantime, readers should try not to inhale talcum powder – even if fashionable Moss is doing it.’

Posted: 31st, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Abusive Phone Calls

‘IF Kate Moss does wind up in choky on a cocaine rap, she could be in good company. The Mirror says that Moss’s catwalk mate Naomi Campbell has been arrested.

Campbell is said to have attacked her housekeeper, a woman known only as Amie, hitting her on the head with a thrown mobile phone. This alleged assault caused Amie to have four stitches sewn into what police in New York are calling “substantial cuts”.

For her part, Campbell denies the charges. The Mirror hears her agent, Amanda Silverman, say it’s all a case of the maid’s bitterness at being sacked before the alleged assault. “We are confident the courts will see it the same way,” says she.

They might. But Campbell has form. As the Mirror says, in 2000, Campbell pleaded guilty to assault to hitting assistant Galanis, 38, with a telephone.

Italian actress Yvonne Scio claims Campbell left her “covered in blood” after a fight in a Rome hotel. Housekeeper Millicent Burton says she was scratched and punched badly enough to need hospital treatment.

And last year, Campbell’s assistant Amanda Black claimed her then boss beat her about the head with a Blackberry personal organiser.

Of course, none of these allegations should prejudice this new inquiry, and Campbell may be innocent of all allegations levelled against her.

And Kate Moss might have been snorting talcum powder…’

Posted: 31st, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Thongs For The Memories

‘TOM Jones should take care. The women who now make up the sturdier part of his fan base have aged.

They are less likely to toss lacy knickers in his direction than they are to hurl a substantial iron-hard corset with complimentary thermal vest and massive apple catchers.

There are three of Jones’s adoring female fans in the Mail, all identically dressed in beige raincoat, pink rain hat and no little blonde dolly dye.

The paper identifies this nightmarish sisterly trio as Joy, 76, and 73-year-old twins Babs and Teddie. Tom’s no ageist – at 65, even a “sex bomb” can’t afford to be – and gives them his time.

But Jones must soon move on – places to go, women to meet. And, having done with the Beverly sisters, leaving them satisfied but still craving more – “Oh, we love you Tom, you’re so wonderful,” they chime in unison – Jones steps inside Buckingham Palace to renew his acquaintance with Her Majesty the Queen, 79.

As the Mail reports, Jones was last at the Palace in 1999. Back then he collected an OBE – an event he celebrated with a 21-year-old lapdancer from Blackpool. She went by the name of Christian James, and, for purposes of factual reporting, the Mail publishes a picture of her dressed as the eponymous temptress of Tom’s hit Delilah.

This time things are different. Now Jones only has rheumy blue eyes for the Queen. And the Star has a nice shot of Her Majesty raising her sword and investing Jones under his original name Thomas Woodward. A quick look confirms the happy truth that no royal thong or eau de nile-hued bodice dangles from the weapon’s sharper end.

The Queen remains the picture of composed womanhood as she dubs the “Sex gong” (Sun) Sir Tom.

Duly elevated in status and being, Jones emerges to tell the Mail of his exchange with the regent. “I love seeing the Queen,” says Tom. He goes on: “She asked me how long I had been giving people pleasure. I told her 41 years.”

At which point Her Majesty commended his not unenviable staying power, and became oddly misty eyes…’

Posted: 30th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Simian Says

‘NEWS now that will certainly be of interest to celebrity mums, like actress Amanda Holden who holds newborn daughter Alexa Louise Florence Hughes up so the Mail’s readers can get a good look at her.

Sure, the little love is, as Holden says she is, “the most beautiful, gorgeous, perfect little thing”. But she is about as bright as a tapeworm.

This is not our view but that of scientists at St Andrews University. It is lucky young Alexa is so truly awesome to behold, nothing less than the best, because in life’s tough jungle she is about to be outwitted by a chimpanzee.

Scientists took a group of chimps aged from two to six and a group of children aged between three and four and gave them a test to puzzle out.

Each was given a locked box containing either a sticker or a piece of food. The scientists showed the children and chimps how to open it. All aped the instructors’ moves.

But when the box was replaced by another transparent box, things changed. The children continued to do as instructed. The chimps noticed a faster way inside and improvised.

While this suggests that the likes of, say, Alexa and any number of Jakes and Armanis are a chimp’s inferiors, it might not be all bad.

The children’s way will stand them in good stead. As Professor Andrew Whiten, who led the research, says: “Imitation is quicker because it provides a ready-made solution to the problem.”

So let us take another look at young Alexa, and realise that getting a chunk of banana out of a box will not enable her to be just like her mum. It will undoubtedly help, but she needs more.

She needs a blonde hair-do, lots of brilliant white teeth, a celebrity lover – and to remember to never work with chimpanzees…’

Posted: 30th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Breast Gazing

‘OF course you are not leering at that Page 3 girl – you are interested in hearing her opinions of matters most urgent.

Today Nicola T tells Sun readers that she has seen the new Prince Harry waxwork at Madam Tussauds and is chuffed to bits that he has “turned into a nice hunky young man”.

And Nicola can be trusted. She is a well-rounded girl. She is a natural homebuilder. She will make some footballer a good wife. Oranges are like that.

Like you, we are keen students of sternomancy. This, as the Star tells its readers, is the “art” of telling fortunes by looking and fondling a woman’s breasts.

The paper says that this form of fortune telling is making a comeback in Europe. And by way of a master class to induct its readers into the Star School Of Sternomancy the paper produces a handy rip-out-and-keep guide to any readers keen to set up in business. So pay attention and listen up as Hungarian lecturer Adam Lesko tells all.

As the picture shows, Malene Espensen, 25, has pear-shaped boobs. Lesko, who may or may not have handled the mo-dels crystal balls says he likes of Marlene will have “wonderful sex and big rows.” (Readers who want to enrol in the hands on part of the course should send off for a ‘text book’, and include a plain brown paper envelope for postal deliveries),

Watermelon-sized breast (as worn by model Sophie Howard) will get plenty of male attention. Apples (Victoria Beckham) reveal a woman who wants to stick with one partner.

Fox Nose bosoms (Paris Hilton) are sported by cool women with sharp brains. And Triangles (Kate Moss) are a sign that the owner is most excitable – “nothing is taboo in the bedroom for them”.

Whether or not the same rules apply to men, is not revealed…’

Posted: 30th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Houston Has A Problem

‘ANOTHER day dawns – and we are shocked and appalled by yet another tale of celebrity drug taking. “WHITNEY ON CRACK,” says the Sun’s front page. And there are “shocking pictures”.

The paper says that the model turned singer is “destroying herself with crack cocaine”. The 42-year-old is living in a world of “squalor” and “degradation”.

Inside the paper, over a double-page spread, readers get to see inside Whitney’s bathroom. They see a spoon covered in cocaine (“SORDID”) and a pot full of rubbish, said to include crack-smoking paraphernalia. “PITIFUL,” says the Sun.

It’s all a far cry from the days when Whitney’s demands were just that she wanted danced with somebody. Today Whitney is “AT HER WHIT’S END”.

For those of you who have not seen Whitney for a while, and still have in your mind’s eye an image of an almond-eyed beauty with flawless coffee-toned skin and legs that go all the way to the top of her yellow ra-ra skirt, the Sun says her beauty has been “devastated” by drugs. And she smells. The Sun says Whitney has no truck with “personal hygiene”.

Note the dark circles beneath her listless eyes. Focus on the “deranged” look on her face. Pay special attention to the askew fright wig. Stare. And stare again.

It’s not cruel to stare. It’s just what Whitney’s sister-in-law Tina, sibling to Bobby Brown, and herself a former drug addict, wants us to do. It was she who took the shots of Whitney’s bathroom, shots that now appear in the Press.

Helpfully, Tina says Whitney is paranoid. The singer sees demons. She once made a hole in a bathroom wall to look through. Says Tina: “She breaks everything – mirrors, phones, cabinets, appliances.”

Tina also thinks it is important we know that Whitney has wet herself and put on a baby’s nappy.

And we would like to thank Tina for spouting so much tough love. In telling the world what a slovenly loser her sister-in-law is, she has surely set Whitney on the path to recovery…’

Posted: 29th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

One Over The Eight

‘“PETER is unpredictable at the best of times” says an onlooker. Only he is anything but. Pete Doherty is a celebrity you can set your clock by.

And here he is showing us how cray-zee he is by attacking a photographer with an umbrella.

Doherty is the epitome of the modern British pop star. He is what the Star calls a “Fisher Price Sid Vicious”.

There he is on the Mirror’s front page, sitting behind the wheel of a car and smoking a fag – two things that in this sanitised world mark him out as daring and a menace to the world at large.

Doherty could look still more edgy if he were to position his fashionably lithe form behind the wheel of a gas-guzzling 4×4, the rebel’s vehicle of choice.

But that for another day. Because today Doherty is content to be with his eight Jaguar cars.

To the Mirror this smacks of wild madness. But surely it is just another sign of Doherty’s predictability. Whereas other rockers buy a fleet of different cars; Doherty buys eight all the same.

Perhaps this uniformity gives him a sense of comfort. Maybe he has one car for each day of the week – and a spare for those days he can’t remember what day it is…’

Posted: 29th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

Mum’s Bum

‘“WHY don’t you write the truth about my daughter for once? Tell everyone she is posh and a f***ing good score for any man.”

Who do you think is saying those words? Is it Celebrity Mum of the Year Sharon Osbourne? Not this time. And neither is it Sarah Ferguson, Cherie Blair nor Her Majesty the Queen.

These are the words of mum-of-seven Nora Black, who is pictured in the Mirror as if about to pull down her trousers and enact a mooning on the assembled gentlemen and ladies of the Press.

Nora’s considerable beef is that her papers have, apparently, not been telling the truth about her daughter, 14-year-old Leanne, who has just appeared before the Beak in Newbury, Berkshire, to answer a charge of driving while under the influence of booze.

Leanne was found guilty of taking her father’s Ford Mondeo for a spin, and given eight months’ detention, four to be spent in a secure unit and the remainder at large in the community. She is Britain’s youngest drink driver.

We need to go on and tell you that while in court Leanne effed and blinded, threw a jug of water at magistrates, knocked over furniture and was wrestled to the ground by four guards.

The Mirror has a nice shot of Leanne, armed raised high in the manner of a keen cricketer, ready to bowl an egg at the assembled press as she arrives at court.

Now we see Leanne’s mother (think Don Dom DeLuise crashes into Roseanne Barr). Her hands are tugging at the waistband of her Comfi-Slax. Things are about to turn nasty. Nora is sticking up for her misunderstood and, vitally, misrepresented little girl.

And in support are husband Maurice and second daughter Lilly. And, having invited the Press to tell the truth, and told us what her Leanne is really like, Nora adds: “I’ll f***ing kill you. I’ll kick your head in.”

Slim and blonde Sun columnist Jane Moore (“Come and have a go if you think you’re lard enough”) is of the opinion that this “ridiculous” mother should be jailed for “crimes against motherhood”.

In pessimistic tones, Moore wonders what might happen if Leanne one day drives the family saloon into a child. We imagine it would be pretty terrible. And contemplate if it would be any less tragic if Leanne drove into Nora? Moore doesn’t say.

Over in the Star, the aforesaid Maurice says he feels “nothing but pride” for his little girl. Remember that it was his car she took.

And then comes the crunch. The Star shows the familiar shot of Nora aiming her backside to the cameras, and asks: “Does my mum look a pig in this?”

Answers to the usual address.’

Posted: 29th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment

The Fags Four

‘WITH the smoking ban just underway in Scotland, and set to begin south of the border next year, we read that the keepers of the nation’s health are wiping history clean of the dreaded weed.

The Sun reports that a new version of The Beatles Capitol Albums Volume 2 has an altered image on the cover. The Fab Four are in their places but their smokes are not.

The original album cover shot, taken in 1964, featured all but George Harrison smoking a cigarette. But now the fags are gone. And, what’s more, two of Ringo Starr’s fingers have also been vanished.

The message is clear: smoking has no place in modern Britain. And unless you do as ordered you are liable to have your fingers chopped off now or posthumously.

And what goes for the Sixties, goes too for Big Brother contestants. As the Star reports on its front page (“BIG BRO FAG BAN”), anti–smoking groups are calling on the show’s makers Endemol to ban the dreaded weed. Smoking has already been banned from the Australian version.

Says a spokesman for ASH (Action on Smoking And Health): “It seems remarkable that Chanel 4 warn viewers about swearing or sex scenes on the show and say nothing about the dangers of smoking.”

Quite. And what of the clear and present danger of smoking while swearing and having sex.

And while we are on it, why doesn’t the channel warn Big Brother viewers of the damage power stations – the ones that create electricity to power TVs and light the BB house – do to the environment?

For shame!’

Posted: 28th, March 2006 | In: Tabloids | Comment