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.
In The Family
‘WHEN youve been to one global pop concert for Africa, youve been to them all.
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| Not a carbuncle |
And 20 years on from his seat at Live Aid, Prince Charles was putting the world to rights in the saddle at a polo tournament in Ascot.
The Suns single hack and snapper not employed to cover proceedings at Hype Park was despatched to deepest Berkshire and ordered to get the big story.
And a huge story it is. As the paper says, Charles met Princes Harrys girlfriend, the blonde Chelsy Davy, and welcomed her into the family fold with a kiss on the cheek.
At which point wed like to assure Chelsy that The Firm is not some British arm of the Mafia, for which such a kiss may be a precursor to something other than an invite to Christmas lunch, and her life is not in any danger.
Paul Sorene’
Golden Showers
‘THE very moment Travis begin chanting their popular refrain Why Does It Always Rain On Me? at Live8, Tony Blair will flick the switch on his weather machine.
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| Better the devil you know |
At once the heavens will open over the dusty African plains, the weather changing from scorching hot to wet and wonderful.
Back in London, the spray of liquid will sparkle like golden champagne. As the Express explains, alcohol has been banned from the Live8 compound for all but the members of the exclusive gold circle area.
Aside from the 5,000 corporate ticket holders and VIP guests, and Serpentine Shamus and members of his Hype Park drinking collective, no-one will be boozing in Hyde Park.
And before you start dismissing rumours about how Saint Bob plans to circumvent the ban hold by offering the 200,000-strong crowd each a swig from his purloined bottle of champers, know that the concerts organiser is capable of the unexpected.
Just look at the Mail and consider its picture of Geldof coyly placing his head on Tony Blairs shoulder in the manner of some lovesick groupie.
Live Ego, says the Mail as it watches Blair and Geldof cosy up for a duet on the MTV music channel.
The paper sees Tony seep into his excruciatingly trendy mode as he and his new best mate were asked questions about African poverty by a select group of what are routinely termed young people.
Sitting on an orange bench, showing of his Make Poverty History wristband, Tony spoke to some teens and fielded pre-recorded questions from Destinys Child and rap artiste Snoop, who asked him if it was President or Prime Minister Tony Blair.
We dont get to hear Tonys reply, nor his heart skip a beat.
And we dont get to know the state of Tonys suit jacket when Geldof lifted his famously unkempt head from it.
Indeed, we dont get to know much. But thanks to the Sun we do learn an answer to the burning question of the day.
The paper has happened upon the running order for the big gig, and looking at it we can categorically state that no deal has been done Tony and the Ugly Rumours will not be playing…’
Taking The Cake
‘BOB Geldof and Tony Blair make for a high-profile couple but theyll have to try harder if theyre to become the new Ben and Jen.
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| Action! |
Not that Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez are an item any longer. J-Lo has married another and now we read that Affleck has followed suit.
The Sun reports that the actor – so wooden hes surely destined for a glorious career in porn – has secretly married his actress love Jennifer Garner.
News to the uninvited masses is that Ben and Jen II married in a ceremony on the Turks and Caicos islands.
Marrying Jen was a good move for Ben. Firstly, the actress is carrying his child. But, more vitally, in tying the knot with a Jen, Ben would finally have been able to make us of the monogrammed napkins, personalised rainbows and B&J celebration crabsticks ordered for his cancelled wedding to Lopez.
With some red icing sugar and a few deft cuts, even the life-size figure of Lopez that is rumoured to stand atop the original cake could have been reused and remodelled on Garner.
Although our original wedding gift to the rounded Lopez of an Anorak Comfi-Skirt for the fuller-figured woman is of little use to the pregnant Garner, unless, of course, she wears it upside down…’
Anti-Social Security
‘HAS Saddam Hussein been issued with an anti-social behaviour order yet?
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| Travis models the new wooden Asbo |
If not, we hereby call upon the Government of this country to explain why not.
If Saddam could have been given an Asbo, banning him from Iraq and ordering him to stop misbehaving, there might have been no need for war.
Nothing less than a full judicial review is needed to discover why when, as the Mail says, record numbers of Asbos are being handed out, one has not been given to Hussein or, for that matter, to Robert Mugabe.
Not that there is any guarantee an Asbo works. Home Office figures show that four in ten Asbos are breached and only 46 per cent of under-18s and 64 per cent of adults who ignore the order are jailed.
Whats more, Gareth Crossman, policy director at Liberty, says hes aware of anecdotal evidence that Asbos are viewed as a badge of honour among the anti-social classes.
So, though more Abos are being issued 786 orders were dished out between October and December last year, against 364 over the same period in 2003 they are not the complete answer.
Perhaps the Government can think of another way to deal with these hardcore miscreants. And the Sun might well have stumbled upon the answer.
Hussein might have escaped the wrath of a local magistrate, but he could not avoid being shamed in another way being pictured in his underpants.
And once again the Sun uses its front page to display jailed Saddam Hussein in his Y-fronts.
Short of putting his head in the stocks and pelting him with weapons of mass destruction and rotten tomatoes, the deposed despot could not have been more humbled.
But Saddam is not happy. And, as the paper says in YOU AND WHOSE ARMY? (…OOPS, YOU HAVENT GOT ONE), hes thinking about suing the, er, pants off the Sun.
Hussein thinks his human rights were violated when the Sun published a picture of him standing in his prison cell in his pants, a claim the papers lawyer calls preposterous and vows to fight.
So thats knickers to Saddam. And pink frilly knickers and nothing else for the Asbo dodgers…’
Lizzie Come Home
‘LIZ! Li-izzzy! Here girl! Heel! Lizzzyyyyy!
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| Spot the dog |
Oh, its no good, Liz Hurley is too busy looking for her beloved pooch to hear us, let alone come to us.
Perhaps we can have better luck with her lover, Arun Nayer, who has been spotted running around frantically looking for his girlfriends dog Emily.
As Helen Elliott, who was having dinner in South Kensington explains in the Sun, Emily cannot be found.
Arun came running over, she says. He was sweating badly. He asked if Id seen his black Labrador and begged me to let him know if I saw it.
Good grief! This sounds terrible. Sweating in public is so last year, and Hurley would be well within her rights to castigate her man for being so out of touch.
Youd never catch Liz in a sweat. And while her man leaked in public, Elliott spotted Hurley remaining cool and dry in a nearby car looking fed up.
You can bet she was unhappy.
Rather than being dognapped, as the paper fears Emily has been, we suggest that the pooch may just have not wanted to have been seen out with Arun, an accessory any pedigree mutt can well do without…’
Angie Baby
‘WHAT looked like a rumour to market a film now looks like a rumour to sell a newspaper. Yes, its more on the Pitt-Jolie romance.
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| Get a room! |
And things have moved on from when Brad and Ange were mentally undressing each other at every premier of their new movie. And today we read the Stars sensational headline: BRAD THE DAD.
The front-page news is that La Jolie is expecting Pitts baby and is three months gone, or three months in the club, as the paper has it as the story continues on Page 3.
At which point wed like to offer her our hearty congratulations to the couple.
But before we despatch a squadron of plans to draw two interlocking hearts in the skies above Jolies home, we are stopped in our tracks.
Although a source says Jolie is pregnant, Jolie is staying mum about the story.
And thats typical of the love affair that has left the stars involved speechless for the past eight months.
While the marketing men and women in shiny suits and hair do the talking…’
Giving Him One
‘IF only Prince Harry had been born with a pair of trophy ears and covered in leaves there would have been no rumours about his parentage.
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| He’s his father’s son |
But as soon as we heard that Diana had been having an affair with Army office James Hewitt, and then saw a picture of the flame-haired cad, we began to doubt.
And so too did what the Sun terms senior Royals, who, as the paper notes in todays front-page extracts from a yet another new book on the Princesss life, made Harry take a DNA test.
The books author, Simone Simmons, says she was shown a letter that demanded that Harry spill his blood to prove his worth.
And, as the Sun says, the blood is thought to have confirmed that Charles is Harrys dad. And that, for reasons best left for another book, William was also tested. Same result.
At least now this tawdry tale can be put to bed. Although not to bed with Diana, who, as the story goes, gave all her men a score out of ten for their performances in her private quarters.
Earlier in the week, we learnt that JFK Junior scored a magnificent 10 out of 10 for services to the crown. Thats a good score, but surely even he could have gone the extra mile and given it 110% of his effort.
But, even so, Kennedy tops Dianas league table of lovers, the points system for which is complicated but thought to be based on three points for a mutually satisfying score draw, two points for saying something nice about her hair and one point for every disparaging remark made about Charles.
As such, Hewitt scores a commendable but slightly disappointing 9 out of 10. Oliver Hoare holds his own and the bronze medal position with an above average 6.
And in last place although this is by no means a definitive list is Charles, barely making it back to the stables on a pathetic and tired 1 point.
Lets just hope his sons have inherited their mothers sex drive and skills, as well as her looks…’
In Line To The Throne
‘HAVING chosen to stick with the Sun, readers now get to hear the FULL AMAZING STORY about Princess Diana.
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| A nose for trouble |
Over three pages of tightly woven text emanating from the pen of professional Diana confidant Simone Simmons, we finally get to learn everything.
Only, we dont, and, as is the way with the Diana marketing machine, its likely we never will.
Ever since Diana died and stopped selling herself through approved books and TV interviews, others have been dining out on her name.
And for a woman who was so famously svelte, there seems to be a remarkably large amount of juicy meat on her frame. After years of chomping, the Diana feeders appear to be no nearer the heart of the matter.
But we do learn that, according to Simmons, Diana tried cocaine once. She didnt like and only took it because her then boyfriend was a habitual user and urged her to try it.
His name was Dodi Fayed. And he was to become Dianas mission of the moment. She always helped lame ducks who came her way, writes Simmons.
So what of JFK Junior? Was he another of Dis pet projects, less sex bomb than waddling land mine?
Over in the Express, highly placed sources in the US and Britain have considered yesterdays Sun story that Diana and Kennedy slept together and now deliver their verdicts.
Patrick Jephson, Dianas former private secretary, author of Shadows Of A Princess: An Intimate Account by Her Private Secretary and Portraits of a Princess: Travels with Diana, says how he set up the meeting between Diana and JFK Junior and sat right through it.
How such a claim helps salvage a little of Dianas reputation is a moot point.
Perhaps best to leave that aside, or until Jephson writes an X-rated book on it, and hear instead from some of those top US people, one of whom is now referred to as a friend of Kennedys.
But once more, what we hear hardly buries Simmons claim. The friend says that Kennedy went to Dianas New York hotel equipped with a secretary, only she waited in the foyer while her boss had a short and nothing but professional meeting upstairs with the princess.
And so it goes. Until one day we can piece all the bits we know and dont know about Dianas life together. And then set about deconstructing her…’
Panic Attack
‘GIVEN the latest round of stories about Princess Diana, its little wonder Prince Harry has punched the alarm button. It cant be easy having tales of your deceased mum splashed over the newspapers, having to read how she shagged this one and that one and dabbled in drugs.
But when Harry slapped the panic button that sits by his bed at Sandhurst Army academy, he did so not out of frustration and pain but by way of an accident.
But once triggered, as the Mail says, the barracks jumped into life. The alarm sounded and within seconds a team of six Gurkha soldiers, armed to the teeth, appeared in Harrys quarters.
Then, according to a source, around another half a dozen bodyguards turned up with pistols.
Amazingly most of Harrys would-be saviours were bona fide soldiers and not undercover journalists armed with bits of plastercine explosive and pens that could fire a death ray beam if adapted in a secret way you can read about on the internet.
Nor was one of the people in Harrys room called Chelsy Davy. Harrys blonde has flown in from Cape Town to share some quality time with her man.
But shell have to wait to see the prince until next weekend, which Harry has off. Unless, of course, he can think of a way to get a new body into his room.
Oops! There goes that panic alarm again…’
A Perfect Ten
‘DO you want the Suns WORLD EXCLUSIVE or the Mirrors REAL STORY of Princess Diana and JFK Junior?
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| Diana’s top ten man |
In one sweaty palm theres the Sun, which has seen a copy of Simone Simmons new book, Diana: The Last Word, and today splashes the most astounding extract from it across its front page.
In the other hand is the Mirror, which has also seen the book and calls it HOCUS POCUS FROM AN EVIL WITCH.
And thats not just the Mirrors view, but the considered opinion of that upright, honest man of rare probity and trustworthiness, Paul Burrell.
There was a time when people like Simone Simmons were hurled into the water, trussed up and weighed down with stones, says Burrell by way of a history lesson.
Indeed, he is right. Weve looked it up. And in other history books weve learnt of a time when a butlers job was to be seen and not heard, a time when gay men were forced to live a lie and a time when anyone so much as suspected of stealing was deported to Australia.
But we digress. And while innocent Burrell gives us his inside take on just how awful Simmons is, how her goodness has become rotten with the so-called revelation over JFK Jr, the Sun squeezes the juicy bits of the story until the pips squeak.
To the Sun, Simmons is as close as any confidante ever was to Diana. The energy healer was an ally to Diana. If Burrell was her rock, Simmons was at least a brick the size of Gibraltar.
And her story makes for good reading. Simmons says that in a meeting with Diana, the princess brought along a picture of John Jr pulled from a newspaper.
The story goes that in 1995 Diana was in New York. John Jr was in town and came to call on Diana at her hotel room. One thing led to another and the pair succumbed to a moment of pure lust.
Wow indeed. But why does the Sun put so much stock in Simmons tale when the Mirror does not?
Might it be because Diana was a Sun reader at heart? Not only did Di, apparently, read newspapers for the pictures, but she ranked her lovers in the same way the Sun gives players scores after football matches and Busty Beach Bum contests. Diana gave John Jr a 10 out of 10. He was the tops. He was Dis star man.
As such, is the Mirrors spoiler born of jealousy? Could that aforesaid EVIL WITCH be less Simmons and more a reference to Rebekah Wade, the editor of Dianas favourite paper?
But its all intrigue and suggestion. Until Dianas newspaper delivery boy tells all in book form, we may never be certain. We await his literary marvel with frenzied excitement.
And the news that Diana and Kennedy are not dead but living together on the fabled Sixth Floor at Harvey Nichols…’
Small Man Syndrome
‘WHEN the Sun published photos of the jailed Saddam Hussein in his underpants, we were shocked.
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| Worst case of small man syndrome we’ve ever seen |
He looked so normal, pathetic even. His menace had departed with his medals and uniforms. He looked impotent. He looked small.
Saddam is no Linford Christie. The contents of his lunchbox have not been seen worthy of debate in the corridors of power in Whitehall, or the Star.
But the Sun has learnt that in Iraq, Saddams shaming has caused men to worry.
It seems that Iraqi troops are wearing boots too big for them because they believe foot size reveals the size of their manhood. The bigger the boot, the bigger the man.
And this means that no one has asked for a boot smaller than a size 10, leading to sprains, blisters, corns the size of, well, Saddam, and a new explanation as to why the two Gulf Wars have been over so quickly and so few Iraqi forces chose to surrender rather than turn and run.
But officers at the Baghdad-based Multi-National Security Transition Command, who train the Iraqi troops, have invented a solution – all boots have been relabelled four sizes bigger than they really are.
Now Ali, a pert size seven, can order a pair of size 11 boots and march up and down in his humongous oversized Y-fronts without being thought inadequate or foolish…’
In Brains We Trust
‘WHERE Prince Williams goes next is up to him, but with a 2:1 masters in geography tucked under his belt, were confident he wont get lost on the way.
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| Wills get ready for when he becomes a Red Indian |
Yesterday Wills successfully plotted his return to St Andrews University. The Sun looked on with patriotic pride as the prince graduated from college and had bestowed upon him the title the brainiest-ever Royal.
Some title that. And surely history would have been different had some of Williams ancestors been touched by his intellect.
Would King Canute have vainly tried to stop the waves had he known what Wills knows about ocean currents? Not in this world.
But though he has a big brain, Wills is no big head. Responding to the cheers of 5,000 people who had come to see him, he joked: Im amazed I passed a little bit of luck goes a long way.
No debating that. Just look at his dear mum, Princess Diana. Her academic career stretched to a CSE in domestic science, and you could count on one hand the number of times she used her qualification to prepare banquets for the worlds great and good.
But what now for Wills? Well, the Mirror somewhat cruelly calls him THE WANNABE. And what Wills wants to be is a City gent, a mountain rescue worker and a soldier.
It might be time to face the real world, as William says it is in the Mail, but he appears as a little boy looking at his bin full of dressing up clothes and wondering what outfit to put on next.
But before William thinks afresh and says he wants to be a cowboy, a doctor or puts on one of his mothers old dresses and strikes out alone as a professional shopper, the Mirror hears that his selection will not tax him unduly.
The jobs he wants to do are covered by the term work experience. Wills will spend part of the next year his second gap year – in a City institution, some time on his fathers farming estates and then join a mountain rescue team.
He will then, as the paper says, probably join the Army.
Which should keep him busy and real until such a time as he gets to dress up again…as a king…’
Kyle Be Back
‘WHERE the Crazy Frog leads, others can only follow.
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| Madder than a box of Crazy Frogs |
And we read on the Suns front page that Charlotte Church is set to release a new single called Crazy Chick next week.
But before we dash out and buy it – and before she and the Frog perform a duet that gets the papers talking about a possible romance and, who knows, even spawn – lets check out just how cray-zee she really is.
On the Suns front page (CRAZY CHICK), a nation learns that police had to break up a huge row between Church and her former boyfriend, Kyle Johnson.
Johnson, you will remember, sold secrets of he and Charlottes love affair to a newspaper. So when they bumped into each other in a Cardiff bar, words were exchanged.
Things were said, two men exchanged blows and the bouncers threw the singer and Johnson out.
Police then arrived and told the exes to calm down. Then the pair went into her flat in Cardiff and the row continued.
This looks like a bout of madness, but surely its no more insane than any youthful city centre night out in which alcohol and hormones play a part.
But the Mirror maintains that Church is the CRAZY CHICK, and sees Church and Johnson pushing and shoving each other. The paper even hears Kyle scream: I love you! I love you!
But does any of this make Church certifiably crazy? We think not, and wager that shes no more mad than she is a frog. Or a whole box of them ’
Princes & The Paupers
‘THE image is vivid.
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| Three’s a crowd |
There was Princess Diana, top off, Duran Duran hairstyle soaked in beer and sweat, sitting atop her Princes shoulders, clapping in a rhythm of sorts as Howard Jones rocked the world.
Of course, our memories of the Princess have been stilted by her passing, and another image of Diana benignly sitting in the stands at Live Aid alongside her poker-stiff husband fights for our attention.
But no matter, because this time it will be different. Diana will not be at Live 8, we think. And neither will her now ex-husband the Prince, who, as the Mirror says, has a prior engagement.
And it might be lucky for him that he has. This show aims not to feed the world, as Live Aid did back in 1985, but to alter the global order.
Its a case of Status Quo, yes; status quo, no. And its not easy changing things with a Prince sitting in the stands thinking it all a jolly good day out.
This is an event run by Bob Geldof, whos invited us all to rise as one, anarchic Womble, campaigning clown and Phil Collins fan alike, and head from Londons Live 8 to Scotland to protest at the G8 summit in Gleneagles.
We are all as one in Bobs eyes, brothers and sisters united in a power struggle to change the world – which, by happy coincidence, allows him to sing in front of thousands of people.
Only, Bob would quite like it if princes William and Harry could make it to the gig. And theres no need for them to enter the prize draw like everyone else because Bob will give them each a ticket.
This is a revolution with a deferential nod to protocol and rank.
William should be there, says Geldof in the Sun. His mum was there for the original and they should represent their generation.
But on July 2, the date of the gig, William is booked to be on official duty with the British and Irish Lions in New Zealand and Harry will be marching up and down at Sandhurst.
Ok, says Sir Bob, they may have other engagements but they should change them. Nothing is more important.
Apart from debt relief for starving Africans, of course…’
Nanny State
‘SURE Svetlana still smells of the meat truck she was smuggled into the country on, but she is so very good with little Jake. And she is cheaper to run than the new video game thingy he wanted.
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| ‘Smile or mummy will deport me’ |
Thats an extract from a typical conversation had by thousands of mums in coffee bars and gyms the length and breadth of Surrey.
But things are about to change. As the Mail reports, families who employ illegal workers as nannies could face unlimited fines or even two years in jail.
The new Immigration, Asylum and Nationality Bill says it is an offence to employ a black market worker.
Immigration Minister Tony McNulty tells the Sun: If it is a full-time childminder living in the home and National Insurance contributions are paid then that is an employment contract.
So the scribble is on the wall for women employing cheap labour to look after their little loves.
Although, if mum does go to jail, there is the possibility shell see it as a chance to get away from the kids, and, with any luck, shell get to share a cell with the indispensable Svetlana…’
The Third Man
‘IF only Faria Alam had had an agent when she worked at the Football Association.
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| Three lions on her chest |
With all the money in football, the secretary who took her case for constructive dismissal to an employment tribunal yesterday surely could have earned some money as she transferred her affections from one colleague to another.
But the sensation from yesterdays performance, as the Sun says, was not that England manager Sven Goran Eriksson seduced her away from then FA chief executive Mark Palios with the come on, Youve never tried me, give me a chance, but that FA executive director David Davies tried to tap her up.
In MY SEX PEST FA BOSS, the Mirror hears Alam claim that Davies, the married former BBC presenter, made unwanted physical overtures towards her.
Alam was unimpressed. Unlike an England footballer, she didnt fancy three lions on her chest, nor the Suns THREE LOINS, and spurned Daviess advances.
She told the tribunal how on several occasions when we were alone in the lift, he would try and kiss me on the lips.
She went on: He advised me that his life was better with me in it and that we should run away together, or that he wanted to lock me up and throw away the key.
How Davies must now lament how he was denied that alleged wish as he reads that he was the third man in the Mail.
There, his career is profiled. And we get to hear why it was that in spite of all these unwanted advances, which Alam claims she noted down in the back of a note book (now missing), she used an email to describe him as a great boss.
Mr Davies was indeed a great boss, said she, and bringing an accusation like this is a very serious thing…He did harass me.
In his defence, Davies has issued a statement, which the Mail has laid its hands on. He calls the accusation of sexual harassment levelled against him cruel, grotesque and callous.
He says the accusation will be refuted vehemently not only by him but also by others.
And so it goes on. A sordid tale full of cheeky one-twos around the office, mazy runs through the legal system and FA own goals.
The only surprise is not how many men were interested in Alam, but that the money men at Chelsea were not…’
Small Mercies
‘WHAT many of you took as a joke is now revealed to be an observation based on some fact.
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| Something fishy? |
When on Monday we suggested that Day-vid Beckham might have been wearing his wifes bikini beneath his outfit, many of you scoffed.
And here we are two days on and there is Dave, pictured in the Sun, wearing a pair of dark, tight bikini briefs.
The paper (GOLDEN SMALLS) takes a look at the garment and says they are a pair of tiny Speedo-style trunks, popularly known as ball-breakers.
And his wearing them is seen as a good thing. The paper says that Becks is virtually the only man who can carry off the daring look while on hols in the south of France.
Sun readers, of course, can carry the look off on the sun-kissed beaches of Bridlington with rare aplomb, but even they should take care.
Note that Daves trunks are brown. They cost £120. And that if you wear them you too may have a very skinny girl in a cowboy hat hanging off you like a desperate limpet.
Rightly, this is front-page news in the Mirror, where readers get to see those briefs and wonder for themselves if they are his or hers.
But, thank God, theyre not yours…’
Able Seaman
‘AAAH, me hearties! After a desperate search over the Seven Seas, the Sun spots a celebrity in a bikini…on a boat.
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| Any port in a storm |
The wearer of the brown two-piece bathing suit is Nancy DellOlio, who can also be seen in holiday garb on the Mails cover.
The Karma Sventra, says the Suns front page. A Sven and Nancy guide to holiday love.
Over a double-page spread, readers who want to learn what it is about wealthy Sven that sends a secretarys pulse racing get to see the silver ferret going through the motions with his Nancy.
Play in any position, says the headline, as the Sun invites readers to watch Sven engage in a bout of something between yoga, the Karma Sutra and all in wrestling with his flexible friend.
Feast your eyes on The Snake Charmer (Nancy nibbles Svens sun-kissed pink leg); The Moon is Rising (Sven lifts Nancys leg up, but falls disappointingly short of placing it behind her ears); The Toe Job (Nancy squeezes Svens toe); and Stroking the Tiger (Nancy tickles Svens thigh).
Similar shots are produced in the Mail, including one of Dell’Olio showing the world the front of her bikini, which is a mixture of blue, yellow, brown and orange squares.
But while Sven explores different formations with his lover, the papers front-page headline says Nancys love boat sails in stormy waters.
The story goes that while Sven and Nancy holiday, his former lover, Faria Alam, is preparing to tell all about her and Svens affair.
We thought wed heard enough details of that episode already, right down to how Svens foreplay included loading the dishwasher.
But now were going to hear more as Alam appears before an employment tribunal claiming unfair dismissal against the Football Association.
Miss Alam says she was forced to quit her job at the FA, where she met Sven and had an affair with former chief executive Mark Palios. And where she claims a third executive pestered her for sex.
What shell reveal is anyones guess. But if its a bikini, you can be sure the papers will cover it…’
Out!
‘ANNA Kournikova is gone, her appearances on a tennis court even more fleeting these days than when she was a full-time professional.
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| A look at women’s tennis |
But where she led, others now follow. Not that any of these girls can ever be the new Kournikova their intention to play in the second week of Wimbledon would seriously interfere with their modelling engagements.
And you mustnt admire them as closely as you did dear Anna, either.
As the Star reports, ten stalkers have been banned from attending Wimbledon and upsetting the players.
All ten, described as crazed, have been warned off by a, er, letter. How a missive stops a nutcase from doing their worst is surely all in the wording.
But in case a letter is not enough – and how can it not be? – photographs of the ten have been handed to police and security guards.
And for added impact, the paper seems fit to name and shame a few of them.
The ten are said to include reining womens champion Maria Sharapovas stalker, Matthew Anthony Page. He, as the Mail writes, is reported to have said he wanted to punch and kick the Russian players head.
Other undesirables include Cornelius Horan, who attacked the leader of the mens marathon at the Athens Olympics; undiluted idiot Karl Power, who appeared on Centre Court dressed in whites last year; Mark Roberts, who has streaked on Centre Court; and Paul Dacre, editor of the Mail, a paper for which female tennis is less a sport and more a chance to show readers pictures of toned teenage flesh.
Of course, one of those is a made up name. Its Dacre. The Mails editor is not on the list. He is entirely innocent. But the Mails obsession with the leggier, blonder elements of the tennis circuit lays its intentions open to misinterpretation.
Indeed, its version on the story (Ten banned by Wimbledon in stalker alert) comes with a picture of Sharapova.
And in case you missed it, she can be most often seen bending over in a short white skirt to pick up balls. More photos of that great action to come…’
Death Wears A Bikini
‘WHEN the world has been put to rights, people discuss the weather.
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| ‘I can see the pier’ |
In the Sun, weather offers the papers readers a chance to consider Nikkala and Dannis WARM FRONTS.
These sensible girls are keeping cool in Londons 91-degree heat by taking off everything apart from their knickers and standing in a large puddle right up to their middles.
But not everyone can be blessed with Nikkala and Dannis innate sun-sense, and the Express is worried about the rest of us who foolishly decide to keep our clothes on.
THE KILLER HEATWAVE, screams the paper. Six drown as temperatures hit 92F; Flash floods wreak havoc in North.
Alarmed readers are already creating pictures of elderly women literally melting as they sit neglected in some impoverished rest home.
See as a man falls to the ground and sinks into the molten tarmac. Gasp as a woman is eaten by scorpions, which have mistaken the sands at Walton-on-the-Naze for the Sahara.
But deprived of so much sensation, the Express instead puts on its black hat and tours the country looking for people diving into water to cool off and not coming up alive.
Its too grim for words. While most of us enjoy the summer heat in safety, at the park and on the beach, the Express reminds us all that fun in the sun can kill. Death wears a bikini.
Having put a damper on the heat, the paper then turns to North Yorkshire, to look for victims of the torrential floods that have hit the region.
It tells us that at one stage last night at least nine people were feared missing in the village of Helmsley, a place highlighted in bold black for added impact.
Happily, the supposed missing were all found alive. But it doesnt end there, and the paper sets out to find some more near disasters.
The Express says an elderly woman, who had suffered a suspected heart attack, was winched to safety.
Two people, who had tried to escape the rising waters by sitting atop a farm gate, were taken to hospital.
What happened to them is tomorrows news. In any case, weve had enough. We need to sit down and cool down. And if we can do it topless, so much the wiser…’
Sun Kissed
‘OF course, anybodys whos anybody is not roasting under the burning British sun or surfing on a cow through flooded parts of Yorkshire: they are abroad.
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| ‘Can you smell fish?’ |
And its the Suns duty to keep track of where the great and good are at play.
First up, it spots Charlotte Church. Shes flown 12,000 miles to be with her lover, ruby star Gavin Henson.
In New Zealand for just three days, Charlotte has travelled light, taking along the bare essentials: chocolate body balm, naughty lingerie and a bathtime love potion.
But its winter Down Under, which means we dont get to see a single shot of Church in a bikini sporting her chocolate rub self-tan.
Which means that its time to jet off to the Caribbean, where Coleen McLoughlin is at play.
And unless our eyes deceive us, thats not Wayne Rooney frolicking in the water with the Liverpool shopper. Hmm… ponders the Sun on its front page, hes better looking, but can he play football.
But thats no love rival for the sunburnt Roon its a dolphin. Surely Coleen wouldnt leave Wayne for a confused fish, even if the creature did give her a kiss.
But only a sicko wants to see Colleen kissing a dolphin. And, whats more, thats a Coleen whose body is under the water and covered by a life jacket. Nothing to see here, folks. Its time to go.
And from one girl and her squeaky-voiced, playful, photogenic playmate, we now move to another, and catch up with Vicky Beckham and her Day-vid.
Seen wearing cowboy-style hats, his n hers vests and matching sunglasses, Posh and Becks are spotted perfuming their double act in St Tropez, France.
But once more, there are no bikinis. Unless, of course, Daves wearing his wifes under his trousers…’
Zo Long
‘AS one Slater returns another leaves like the Royal family it seems theres an unwritten rule that says the whole dysfunctional clan cant ever be in the same place at the same time.
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| ‘Does me face look big in this?’ |
Kat returned as if her six months on the run had been a mere trip to get the papers. And shes outraged to find that Alfie doesnt want her back. Shell be even more outraged if she discovers that her husband and her sister nearly got it on.
Little Mo and Alfie have decided that their love can never be indeed a more unlikely storyline its hard to imagine, even by EastEnders absurd standards. Kat is determined to win back her husband and shes bizarrely decided that dying her hair bright orange to match her face is the way to do it.
Kats daughter Zoe decided to leave the Square this week not out of shock at her mothers transformation into Ronald McDonald, but because she cant bare livin a lie anymore. Zoe has finally discovered that it wasnt she who killed Den but Chrissie. I should go to the police, Zoe spat at Chrissie after shed given her a massive smack in the chops.
For a brunette, Zoe really is very blonde; it seems to have escaped her attention that although she may not have actually delivered the fatal blow, she was still responsible for pummelling Dens head in with a door step not to mention the fact that she aided in a murder.
Zoes decided she needs to leave Walford before she blabs to her mum. And where does an East End girl go in times of stress? Why, to Ibeefa, naturally. Zoes decided to join Kelly on the Spanish island which will probably translate into a bit part in The Bill then years of panto.
There are rumours that Johnny Allen is set to leave Walford soon, too. And with the storylines hes been getting recently, who can blame him? Johnny was originally brought in to be the hardest, most violent criminal the East End had ever seen. This week, his biggest storyline involved him looking at baby pictures with Dot and buying Jim a new sofa.
Johnny has now had some sort of road to Damascus experience and has decided to go straight. I cant go on like this any more, he told his girlfriend, Tina. Indeed, you cant, love.’
Mrs Brown
‘NEVER wear brown in town is an axiom we have lived by for years.
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| ‘Earn, as in ows te addle is brass?’ (Trans: And what do you do?) |
So we are shocked to read the Stars story that Her Majesty has been spotted wearing a brown hat in York.
Royal Ascot, with its colourful horses and liveried chinless wonders has decamped to York racecourse for the season while the traditional venue in darkest Berkshire is modernised.
But not just the venue is altered, and today we are affronted by the site of the Queen wearing the most proletariat colour this side of shell-suit khaki.
We respect her ambition to look at home in the Northern wilds of her realm but there is no more need to change her unique sense of style than there is for her to go equipped to Yorkshire with a whippet, a tin of Yorkshire tea and Geoff Boycott.
But the controversy sparked by the Queens attire does not end there, and we read in the Mail that the headgear has fallen foul of bookmakers.
In itself, its not unusual for punters to place bets on what colour titfer the Queen will wear on Ladies Day.
This year, she has, as weve noted with a heavy heart, worn brown, and bookmakers believe her intention was leaked before the big unveiling.
Instead of the normal £20 or £20 bets, a string of what the paper calls mystery men attempted to place large sums at the bookies. When this happened, the turf accountants closed their books.
Obviously someone was in the know, says Paul Meehan, a manager at Paddy Power bookmakers. Obviously, indeed.
For who in their right mind would ever suppose the Queen was going to wear brown which has mutated to a less life-as-we-know-it-threatening coffee-coloured in the Mail?
The opening odds of 12-1 on brown were tempting, but the gamblers must have been in the know to attempt to place such big bets. But who blabbed?
While the Queen takes out Ye Olde Royal Thumbscrews, opens Traitors Gate and sets to work finding the informant, the Mail gives her a clue.
A spokesman for William Hill says the bookmakers branch in Windsor was approached by a would-be punter who wanted to place a £1,000 bet on the Queens hat being brown.
At about the same hour, a man walked into the Chelsea branch of Paddy Power, not a million miles away from Buckingham Palace, and tried without success to lay a £2,000 on the same.
Suspicions reached a head when a man with a posh accent tried to place £4,000 on the brown hat in West Ealing.
So were looking for a well-spoken man, who knows his way around Windsor and Chelsea, who has access to large sums of cash and to the Queens wardrobe.
Any ideas, dear readers? Its all Greek to us…’
The Abi Habit
‘THE effect Abi Titmuss is having on the nations psyche is terrifyingly powerful.
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| The Trooping of the Knickers |
Would the Queen have dared to wear brown in town had it not been for Abi, who has done so much to challenge accepted fashion styles and female etiquette? We think not.
Its just a wonder Liz didnt only wear her hat. Its a shock she chose not to ape the nations heroine and step out on the Ascot turf in high heels and a thong.
But however hard she tries, the Queen will never be Abi Titmuss.
We fear Liz is too repressed, and will never allow herself to know the exotic pleasure of sharing a chocolate mouse with former footballer Lee Sharpe on a tropical island.
Until she can, Liz will never be considered a true celebrity. But she can learn. And the Star gives a lesson in what it takes to make it in the upper reaches of showbiz.
First you need an understanding mum. In an interview with the Sun, Abis mum, Sue Titmuss, says she is proud of her daughter and supports her at least 110%.
Im not upset with her for making the video, says Sue of Abis famous sex tape. Whatever consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home is fine as long as it doesnt hurt anybody.
Quite so. And since Abi began telling the readers of lads mags how to engage in pain-free anal sex, we imagine less people are getting hurt than ever.
But while we wonder how the much lamented Queen Mum would have reacted to footage of her Lilibet in a naked clinch with another woman, the Star tells us that if you want to be Abi, you have to cultivate a circle of cutting-edge mates.
Witness as the Duchess of Gloucester, aka former Atomic Kitten singer Liz McClaron, sinks her horsy teeth into a slab of chocolate on Celebrity Love Island and sighs: It makes me want sex. Oh my God it is like sex.
What this says about McClarons understating of sex is best left to the professionals and her Mars bar. But surely the Countess of Wessex can repeat after Jayne Middlemiss: I want to snog 10 blokes. Actually forget that, give me one bloke and Ill sh*g him.
Sadly for Jayne, and for us, no bloke was offered up for human sacrifice, and she was left to be satiated by chocolate, and the site of Abis upturned, thong-clad backside.
While Abi talked of orgies and garden parties on the lawn at the palace…’
Harry’s Nearly Bombed
‘OUR first reaction to the news that Prince Harry came very close to getting bombed at Sandhurst was to shake our heads. We had hoped Harry had gotten over his youthful dalliance with drugs and booze.
| ”I’ve never knowingly smoked a bomb” |
To read on the Suns cover SUN MAN GETS BOMB INTO SANDHURST comes as no small shock, not least because we thought the correct spelling was B-O-N-G.
But before Harrys hauled over the hot knives, the Mail explains that things are not as they seem. This was a bomb, and an undercover reporter working for the Sun had it.
So its back to the Sun to read the front-page headline (I could have blown Harry to bits), and to hear from the man the paper would like to be known as The Investigator.
Posing as a student of warfare who wanted to research the causes of the first Gulf War, The Investigator was granted permission to use the college library.
So he drives to Sandhurst in a hire car, gives a false address to the guard on the gate and is awarded a pass in return for a flash of his credit card.
And things get yet more daring as, having set up in the library with a few books, the Investigator wanders into a lounge used by recruits, where he buys a copy of the Sun.
Among the Telegraph-reading officer class this should have made the outsider stand out. Surely, he couldnt have drawn more attention to himself had he come dressed in a burka, although not as a Nazi, for obvious reasons.
But still no-one noticed. And while we wonder what has become of the upper echelons of the British Army when the presence of a tabloid paper in their midst can pass unnoticed, The Investigator has retuned to his car.
There, he sets about making that aforesaid bomb, albeit a fake one manufactured from a battery, a lump of blue plastercine and a travel clock.
He then poses for pictures with his bomb, before resuming his secret mission and filming the recruits via a camera hidden in his blazer, including one shot of Harry.
Although without a joint in his mouth, we cant be entirely certain is it young Wales…’
