Anorak

Tabloids

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.

Fat Cats

‘TIGERS may have overtaken dogs to become man’s best friend, but not all cats are so popular.

”More humbug in syrup, your Highness?”

We all hate fat cats, the bosses who vote themselves massive pay rises while expecting their workers to survive on a bowl of gruel a week.

And the news in the Mirror is that it is not just their hefty pay packets that weigh these fat cats down – it is their bellies as well.

A survey by a catering firm discovered that almost half of all fat cats are overweight.

One in five do no exercise at all, a third live on ready meals, three quarters don’t eat the recommended amount of fruit and veg a day and one in ten goes drinking every day.

Clearly, they should all be following the lead of CBI boss Digby Jones, who has lost two stone in the past four months.

And the Mirror has the perfect way to do it – the I’m A Celebrity… diet.

For breakfast, the paper recommends a slice of wholemeal bread and a small can of baked beans; for lunch a small jacket potato and a can of baked beans; and for dinner two low-fat sausages and a serving of baked beans.

All served by an unctuous former Royal butler in one of Princess Diana’s old ballgowns…’

Posted: 6th, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Pole Stars

‘IF education is to be relevant, it has to move with the times.

Week 1 – Making The Pole Your Friend

GCSEs in leech application, trepanning and applied ducking stool design have all rightly gone the way of the dinosaur.

And replacing them, we’ve got media studies, short courses in ambulance chasing and now pole dancing.

The Express notes that a new four-week course in pole dancing is on offer at New College in Swindon.

Students will be tutored in how to wear next to nothing and rotate round a metal pole in the manner of a randy fireman.

Others can stay on for the post-pole diploma and learn ‘trickier’ moves, for instance modules in money management, in which scholars will be instructed in ways to keep their cash safe while wearing less than a new-born baby in his birthday suit.

Professor of poleology, Jody Bishop, 24, who has been pole dancing for five years, hopes the new course will once more take Britain to the forefront of world education.

‘People will realise what great exercise it is and that it’s not just for doing late at night in a club,’ says she knowingly.

‘It’s a really good workout and builds both upper and lower body strength. The girls will discover muscles they didn’t know they had.’

As will the boys…’

Posted: 3rd, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Bea Plus

‘IF Sarah Ferguson is ever down on her luck, her daughter Beatrice can always earn a few nicker by selling photos of herself sunbathing topless.

‘Lock up your sons…’

For a few bob more, the young princess could always invite a man along to suck her toes like popsicles.

And do not doubt the 16-year-old royal would do it for mum, because, as the Sun says, she and the woman she probably calls Sarah are best mates.

And this means that when Sarah goes out on the pull she likes to take her daughter with her.

‘It’s such fun,’ says Fergie ‘because we go out on the pull together and I say, ‘Look, what about him? And she says. ‘Oh, Mum, no!”

Given Fergie’s track record of ageing Italian counts, foot fetishists and the golf bore in a pair of Comfi-Slax Beatrice has to call ‘Dad’ or ‘Andrew’, the young gel is right to condemn her mother’s choices.

But while Beatrice baulks, Sarah tells the world that her daughter ‘mustn’t fret’ that she doesn’t have a boyfriend, so turning Bea’s face as red as her hair. ‘Her time will come’.

Problem is that when a likely lad does happen along down Kensington Gore on his horse, Fergie may well take off her sling-backs and give chase before Bea has even rubbed the toe jam from her eyes.

‘It’s OK to be a little girl,’ says Fergie – her words now picked up by the Express in a piece (‘CURSE OF THE CHUMMY MUMMY’) in which the paper questions the value of having your mum as a friend.

‘I’m 45 and I still feel like a little girl.’

Feel like a little girl you may do, Fergie, but you still look like a big ‘un to us…’

Posted: 3rd, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


War Is Over

‘RING the church bells! Get ’em out for the lads! ‘War is over’! Posh and Geri have made up!

‘Two become one…’

The Sun brings the news many have not even dared to pray for as it reports on how Victoria Beckham has buried the hatchet and invited Geri Halliwell to the christening of her sons Brooklyn and Romeo.

‘Victoria has forgiven Geri,’ says a source close to the Beckhams. ‘They are very close again and Posh has told Geri she wants her to be part of the christening.’

Here at last is a move that will give fresh hope to the stalled Middle East peace process for, if Posh can move on and forgive Geri for quitting the Spice Girls mid-tour in 1998, then anyone can air kiss and make up.

But while Posh gets ready to throw a big bash to prove that she and Day-vid are back on track and very much in love, we wonder what else we can expect on the big day.

And the answer is fish, lots and lots of fish. We can be more specific, and exclusively let it be known that it’s not just any fish – it’s trout.

The Sun has a list of ‘pouting celebrities and their fishy namesakes’ and notes that Posh will be supplying the steelhead tiger trout.

It’s a pretty plain-looking specimen, with the usual arrangement of fleshy lips, fins and gills and dressed in head-to-toe silver.

But there is more. Liz Hurley, a designated godparent on the big day, will be arriving with a dish of her new rainbow trout.

And by way of a change, Geri will be having the cod…’

Posted: 3rd, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


What A Bummer!

‘CALL pop impresario Pete Waterman whatever you like, but it takes a rare genius to look at a frizzy-haired, two-foot tall, buck-toothed Australian and see star quality.

‘I should be so lucky…’

Eighteen years on from those heady days when a young Kylie Minogue just wanted Scott and Scott wanted a better looking girlfriend, Kylie has straight hair, teeth that are no longer taller than her face and high heels.

Rather than being tiny, gnome-like and underdeveloped, Kylie has learnt to make us look instead at her better qualities, like her pert backside and her knickers.

She has also learnt to talk without going up at the end of each sentence, meaning that when she does speak the people at the Mail listen.

Sure, the paper is appalled that Kylie at age 36 is still showing off her pert body (see the paper’s shot of Kylie in fishnets and corset), but the woman herself just wishes you’d look away.

‘I’d get on the bus,’ says Kylie, as she says how her dream is to go about unrecognised, to be just another girl about town in a tight bodice with a habit of bending over a lot.

She then crawls on her hands and knees over to the Mirror (taking time to throw a few cheeky looks over her shoulder to the bus conductor and passengers) before sparing a few words to the wise for pretenders to her knickers.

‘If any of the youngsters think it’s [pop stardom] all about designer labels and limos and lifestyles of the rich and famous, they are mistaken,’ says Kylie.

It’s not all about that. Really. Sometimes it’s about hard work. It’s putting up with what Kylie says is the five or ten per cent of her job ‘I just despise’.

It’s about encountering ‘less-than-pleasing people’ and trying to ‘get them off you’.

But above all this it’s about forgetting to put on a skirt, bending over and wiggling those oh-so-pert buttocks…’

Posted: 2nd, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


A Family Affair

‘THANKS to reality TV we have learnt that the girl bending over in the Sun is not Kylie Minogue or just another bleary-eyed loudmouth out on the razzle, but Jade Goody, a celeb.

‘Silly banter’

Those aren’t just any old dimply thighs, chubby buttocks and expansive white knickers on display, but something special. Something celebrity.

We know that the girl in the Mail telling us how when she was in Hear’Say she was a ‘total pain’ is called Myleene Klass.

And we need absolutely no hint at all in recognising that the woman in the Sun in a red corset is Nadia, who has just released her debut single.

We all of us know these things because, as the Express reports, reality TV shows are bringing families together.

We talk not only of Vic Reeves and his wife Nancy – who spent time in the celebrity jungle in a bid to become the new Richard & Judy – or of Family Holidays From Hell, but of normal families who like nothing better than gathering round the TV to watch a man fish stray maggots out of his backside.

Families who laugh heartily as another star pulls on a pink ’boutique bandana’ and a tight vest and – in between singing showtunes – tells us, via the Star, how he can’t believe anyone thinks he’s gay.

His name, as your gran and the dog know, is Paul Burrell, and he’s a ‘butler on the edge’ as he faces down rumours inside and outside the camp that he is gay.

But while Paul tells us how his favourite film is The Wizard of Oz, his wife back home is ‘bewildered’ at slurs on her man’s sexuality.

Miriam, for it is she, is ‘stunned’ by innuendos and dismisses the jokes – ‘The only thing camper than him on the show is the camp fire’ (Ant and Dec 2004) as ‘silly banter’.

Meanwhile, we at home snuggle up on the sofa and look on, happy to pass the evening wondering why Burrell had all those old Princess Di dresses at his house.

And how he came to be a florist…’

Posted: 2nd, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


God Botherers

‘BEFORE we all bend over before the next celebrity idol, we’d like to remind you that there is a God.

‘I’m sitting on his right hand. Jesus’ll just have to move’

This one true idol has been around for millennia, entertaining the masses and packing in the crowds with his one man/woman shows.

No, it’s not Des O’Connor – it’s God. And this God wears no fake tan, hotpants or a dead Princess’s old dresses.

This supreme being has no truck with status or celebrity, something the Rev James Thomson is keen to impress upon his local councillors.

‘We are all equal before God,’ says James (may we call you James?), insisting that no-one can take priority over another.

However, not everyone agrees, and the members of Fenland District Council are having none of it.

They did intend to group book the front few rows of pews for their annual Christmas carol service at James’s Church of St Peter and St Paul in Chatteris, Cambs, but their request was denied.

Upset at James’s decision not to allow them to reserve seating according to the status of the different dignitaries (God at the mayor’s right hand, a lamb at his feet etc.), the councillors have made alternative arrangements.

And the Express says the service will now be held St Wendreda’s Church.

And if James could pass on to God details of the new address, the council chairman will think about forgiving him…’

Posted: 2nd, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Too Much Exposure

‘DISMISS those ideas of doing it for charity, the experience or the fun, the only reason celebrities go into the jungle is to get on the telly.

Even Medusa couldn’t get men hard as quickly as Janet

And don’t even suggest that Janet Street-Porter is any different to the norm, entering the jungle clearing in some ironic way – she is there to be on the telly just as much as the next self-important celeb.

They all want exposure, and today we get to see just how far Nancy Sorrell, a women destined to be known for eternity as Vic Reeves’ former lap-dancer wife (or former lap-dancer and former wife), will go to expose herself.

On the Star’s cover, Nancy wears a red knickers and bra twin-set – and, for anyone in any doubt as to their purpose, there’s an accompanying headline that reads: ‘NANCY – I’m gonna give Jim the best sex of his life.’

For those of you not in the know, Jim is Jim Moir, otherwise know as Vic Reeves – which means that Nancy can also be known as Jim Moir’s former lap-dancer wife.

But while Nancy goes on to swap the red underwear for a brown, flowered saucy twin-set in the Sun, Street-Porter is doing some exposing of her own.

Before that, though, let’s look at the letter the Star says the journalist received from her boyfriend Peter. In it, he writes: ‘You look like the only real grown-up.’

These writers are so clever and these words may need some decoding.

To our mind, Peter means to say that his lover looks older than all the others. She also looks as though she’s on the point of throwing up her teeth.

What Street-Porter doesn’t look like – especially alongside the bikini-clad Sophie Anderton and the near-naked former lap-dancer – is a porn star.

But over in the Sun, readers hear Street-Porter confess to having appeared in a 1960s blue movie.

However, before you dry wretch or trawl the shelves for a copy of Confessions Of A Dentist, the 57-year-old lets it be known that in this movie, she did not strip, had only a minor part (fnar, fnar) but did look ‘very sexy’.

And like she was about to throw up her teeth…’

Posted: 1st, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


SPENCER For Hire

‘FROM Janet, Nancy and Sophie it’s a short prancing leap to SPENCER.

Nothing a cup of tea won’t sort out

Just like those jungle liggers, there’s no need to introduce SPENCER any further, at least not for the Star’s readers who learn that ”SPENCER QUITS”.

Moreover, the Sun’s learned millions hear on the paper’s esteemed Page 3 the news, ”Spencer Sacked”.

But while SPENCER’S legions of fans throw back their heads and cry ”Nooooo” to a merciless God, we’ll take the chance to tell you less-knowing types that SPENCER is SPENCER Moon, a character in the fly-on-the-wall documentary EastEnders.

SPENCER’S also known in the Star as ”troubled” Chris Parker – or CHRIS, as he’s know to millions.

At just 21 years old, SPENCER/CHRIS is, as the story says he is, ”burnt out”, and has left the show by mutual consent.

But the Sun is of the opinion that SPENCER has been ”SACKED” after refusing to see the show’s psychologist, Pauline Fowler or PAULINE.

But while SPENCER licks his wounds – which are said to have been caused by an attempted suicide bid – he might like to turn around.

SPENCER would then notice that he’s in good company, or a good troop, as such a gathering is known in acting circles.

As he knocks on doors looking for work, SPENCER can do so with other ”stars” who have been given the chop by the EastEnders’ producer Kathleen Hutchinson.

Although she’s only been in the job for two months, the Sun says that the woman has already offed Dirty Den, the six Ferreiras and gansta Andy Hunter.

To the best of our knowledge, that amounts to nine players, which leaves one more person be cut off at the knees by ”Hatchet” Hutchinson.

Which could spell danger for CHANTELLE, otherwise known as the show’s last remaining VIEWER…’

Posted: 1st, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Pig In A Poke

‘DOES anyone have any idea at all why Day-vid Beckham may have cheated on the delicious Posh?

‘How much is it for a blow job?’

We’ve wracked our brains and scratched our heads trying to solve this puzzle for what seems like an age.

We’ve studied the couple’s movements in no little detail. We’ve examined Rebecca Loos’ technique on video, employing super slo-mo and the occasional use of the ‘piggy pause’ button.

But still we are at a loss. We have no idea why the famous England captain would cheat on his talented, stunning, honeydew-voiced wife.

But now someone close to the pair has stepped forward with an idea. Elton John says that Posh is to blame for Dave’s alleged wanderings.

The Express hears the singer offer the opinion: ‘I just think that things went wrong when he went to Madrid. I would have thought the best idea would have been for Victoria to go with him.’

It is an interesting notion. Challenging. But Spain is so very far, and flying in aircraft can play havoc with the vocal chords. Could Posh risk it?

‘If you live six months in a hotel room in Madrid – or anywhere – it’s going to drive you crazy,’ continues Elton.

It’s another intriguing point. But it’s hard to fully understand. We remain unconvinced.

So it’s back to the video tape for another look at the expression on the pig’s face as Rebecca addresses his golden balls…’

Posted: 1st, December 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Three-Two-One…

‘TODAY we ask the question: ‘How high can a star ascend if it’s scared of heights?’

Going down…

Budding philosophers can stop right here. This is no highbrow poser, but a simple matter of counting. For the answer is three, or three storeys as the Star’s front page has it.

For it is in that organ that readers learn how, on returning to her six-star hotel after backing out of the celebrity jungle, “cry-baby” Natalie Appleton complained that being three floors up was too high.

Forget the penthouse, plucked from the relative obscurity of the celebrity basement, Appleton was just happy to be at ground level.

The third floor was beyond her abilities, best left to real stars, like Division One footballers, former boyband members and Anthea Turner.

Of course, we should have said not Appleton but Natalie, because both the Sun (“NATALIE: I lost it in jungle”) and Mirror (“Natalie: MY SOB STORY”) are on first name terms with the low-flying star.

So to the Sun, where the world’s most famous Natalie is driven from the jungle clearing to her luxury hotel, while “quivering” under a blanket.

She is then helped into her suite by person or persons unspecified before “passing out” (falling asleep?) on her bed. So serious was it that, we’re told, a doctor was called.

Indeed, Natalie’s condition was more serious even than that, warranting a comment on “THE SUN SAYS” column, a space the stricken singer shares with bullying in the Army and David Blunkett’s love life.

These are heady times for Natalie, and we’re sure that we’ll hear more from her.

But first she has to change rooms and floors, lest she get a nose bleed.

As the lift operator says: “Next stop, celebrity’s bargain basement for Jason Oranges, “Razor” Ruddocks and some well deserved Wayne Sleep…”’

Posted: 30th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Di, Another Day

‘“THE SUN SAYS” that “Natalie Appleton is the biggest whinger ever seen on TV”.

”Move over, Appleton – there’s some new tears in town”

And to that we say Michel Barrymore! Paula Radcliffe! Princess Diana!!

To beat dear old departed Di in the whingeing stakes, Natalie (Appleton) would now have to eschew the lift to celebrity’s bargain basement in favour of a tumble down the stairs.

She would then cock her head to one side liken an inquisitive sparrow and tell her confident, via the rolling TV cameras, of her pain.

And, as if responding to the challenge tossed down by weeping Natalie, Di has returned from beyond the memorial fountain for one last performance.

In a video made by her former voice coach Peter Settelen – which he sold for a cool £500,000 – Di is seen cocking her head to one side, lowering her brow and whingeing like a celebrity with a face full of maggots.

She says how when she first met Charles at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten, she sympathised with his loss and he “leapt upon me and started kissing me”.

Stopping short of bending his conquest over the sarcophagus, Charles is said to have then followed Di around “like a puppy”.

Then, having been asked on camera about “sexual relations” with the Prince (by her voice coach?!), Diana replies: “Well, there was …but it was odd…very odd. And it fizzled out about seven years ago, six years ago…seven was Harry… it’s eight.”

Er, yes, of course. The sex was so forgettable that, although Di could remember where the foreplay began (as too can the mourners at Mountbatten’s funeral), she couldn’t remember when it ended.

And neither can we. After all, the sounds of moaning and groaning have yet to abate…’

Posted: 30th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


A Chip Off The Old Block

‘IF Darren Day’s unborn boy child is anything like his father, you’d half expect him to have transferred wombs by now.

Available for pregnancies, engagements…

Having tired of “mum”, Suzanne Shaw, Darren II would have eyed some other willing spaces and spent the nine months moving from one to the other.

Hey, he may have even made it into Tracy Shaw’s proud belly – Day’s former fiancée has been talking about her own pregnancy of late.

But for now, Darren II is back inside Suzanne, and so is Darren I, who is seen in the Sun placing his hand on Suzanne’s tummy while simultaneously giving her a smacker on the lips.

Happily, the cameras were there to capture this warming moment when the two affirmed their commitment to each other.

Little Darren even gets in on the act – a speech bubble emitting from Suzanne’s belly has the unborn saying: “Don’t believe a word he says, mum…”

The three of them then went for what the paper calls a “romantic” stroll around the grounds of a posh hotel/Travelodge near Watford.

An unnamed “guest” even pops up to tell the world that Suzanne and Darren “looked very much in love”.

And looked deeply and lovingly into the lens of the snapping camera…’

Posted: 30th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Chelsy Girl

‘IS the blurring of the social boundaries about to reach its inevitable conclusion? Is it just a matter of time before we are all asked to be upstanding for Duchess Chelsy?

You can take the boy out of Chelsy…

Things could be worse, and we are at pains to point out that Prince Harry’s lover, whom, the Express claims, he’s been dating for the past eight months, boasts a classy ‘y’.

Just like more complex Jayne, well-spoken Byanca and devastatingly beautiful Armany, Chelsy bears the mark of the non-common in her moniker.

But what else do we know about her? Well, she’s 19, is based in Cape Town and is the daughter of an African rancher.

The Mail has more and says that Harry met her while on his gap year in South Africa – she was working in a bar, he was drinking in a bar; she was a pupil at Cheltenham Ladies’ College, he was a pupil at Eton; he is ginger, she is blonde.

And Chelsy was still blonde when she turned up at a bar in Cape Town to meet with friends. For the record, she wore a pair of sunglasses, white vest and blue jeans.

But more important than that is the fact that she is apparently smitten with the ginger prince, and recently flew out to that Argentinean backwater El Remanso to be with her man.

‘They looked madly in love,’ says one eyewitness in the Express – presumably one of the same onlookers who saw Harry going through the local girls like a polo player goes through ponies.

This same eyewitness then goes on to say how ‘at one point Harry admitted she was his first true love’. ‘They did all the things young people do.’

So that’ll be binge drinking, recreational drug use, casual sex and listening to Busted, then.

But fear not. Here’s a girl we can trust. Here’s a girl who will not drag the Windsors down. Or even the Wynsors, as they will soon be known…’

Posted: 29th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Fort Beckham

‘WHEN the plot to kidnap the Beckhams came to light we worried about the future.

At Posh’s insistence, Fort Beckham has no loos

Many feared that Day-vid and Vicky would go to ground, retreat into a hermitic existence and neither be seen nor heard from again.

Thankfully, it was not to be. But the event was not without ramifications.

Dave was forced to leave for Spain, to eke out a living as a simple footballer and hawker of mobile phones in a town where no-one knew his name and fewer still understood his unique brand of English.

Posh remained at home in Hertfordshire, only emerging to sing the occasional nursery rhyme and talk in the company of avuncular Michael Parkinson and Elton John.

Even now, as the Express shows, Posh strives to be unnoticed, going out wearing something that makes the paper announce: ‘Victoria covers up with a poncho (or is it a rug?)’

But whether clad in rug, balaclava or head-to-toe burkha, Posh still manages to look utterly fabulous.

In spite of the best efforts of her stylist and a sympathetic photographer, Posh stands out from the crowd.

But what of Brooklyn and Romeo, how are they handling the aftershock?

Well, the Mail says that even with the extensive security that surrounds their Beckingham Palace home – including a pool of flesh-eating piranhas (Posh swears by them) – mum and dad still worry about the kids.

So, just as soon as it’s ready, Brooklyn and Romeo will be spending much of their time in a £120,000 fort being erected within the palace compound.

The last word in child protection comes with turrets, a drawbridge, covers at least 100 square feet and has been assembled by ‘craftsmen’.

For any would-be kidnappers out there, the Express’s news is that with its roof terrace, decked areas and commanding view of the surrounding countryside, the fort is virtually impregnable.

Even the Mail and Express only have aerial shots of the fort taken from a great distance.

To gain access, you need to be a member of the family or respond in the correct way upon hearing the time-honoured challenge: ‘Who goes there, PR agent or one of daddy’s special friends?’

We keepers of the password have been sworn to secrecy, although we can say that answers guaranteed to be met with instant death (or a blast of Posh’s latest single) include ‘oink’, ‘oink-oink’ and ‘Rebecca’…’

Posted: 29th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Do Or Dye

‘CLOSE your eyes and conjure up a picture of Kerry McPudding.

Has she not, er, balance?

Is she not blonde? Is she not as fragrant as a vat of cockroach poo and fly larvae? Is she not chubby in a way many British women find non-threatening?

Now open your eyes and look at the sensational new Kerry, as seen in the Express.

Yes, that is her! We can’t vouch for her smell, but she has, as the story says, lost a stone in weight!

And that’s not the only amazing news, since Kerry has also dyed her hair a dark brown.

If it were not for her constant chatter about her Brian, her kiddies and her crown, she would be utterly unrecognisable as a celebrity of any sort.

Kerry could walk in the street and no-one would bat an eyelid.

But the Express’s canny editor, keen to fill a slow news day when Liz Hurley hasn’t worn a dress and gypsies haven’t overrun Kent, knows a story when he sees it.

So here is Kerry – brown, tanned and not quite as big as she was, but still not as slim as a celebrity usually is.

And there she goes, on her way to polish her crown, talk about her kiddies or – who knows? – perhaps even dye her hair back to blonde…’

Posted: 29th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Band On The Run

‘IT appears that the new initiative to beat school bullies – a load of celebrities wearing blue plastic bracelets – hasn’t been quite the success we thought it would be.

Bully for her

While the Sun pats itself on the back and reports that schoolkids are rushing to snap up the wristbands, the front page of this morning’s Mirror tells a different story.

It shows a picture of a baying mob of 40 schoolgirls surrounding a terrified 15-year-old and threatening to kill her.

Her crime, says the paper, was not to have forgotten to wear her blue anti-bullying band, but to have stolen someone else’s boyfriend.

Head teacher Pam Orchard said: “I’ve never seen anything like it. They formed a circle round her shouting and pushing and punching and kicking.

[And thereby gaining an A in both their geometry and PE GCSE modules.]

“The girl was told ‘You’re dead if you come back.’ She was absolutely petrified. It was so disgraceful I had no option but to suspend them all.”

Schools minister Stephen Twigg backed Ms Orchard’s tough stance.

And he urged her to go even further, maybe even confiscating their blue wristbands for a couple of weeks…’

Posted: 26th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Family Affairs

‘VICKY’S pervert boyfriend, Tommy, left The Square for good this week, for Thailand, but not before a final showdown with Den. “Don’t ever show yer face round here again,” snarled Den. Indeed. Walford isn’t big enough for two aging letches.

Suddenly Sharon remembered what Miss Piggy would have done?

“Why do I always pick the wrong men?” Vicky sobbed to her step-sister, Sharon. “It’s in the genes, love,” Sharon replied. And she should know, having had a relationship with her ‘brother’.

Vicky and Zoe decided to cheer themselves up after being dumped by their blokes with a night out ‘clubbing’ (ie jigging around in tarty clothes in a half empty ‘Angie’s Den’). Zoe had to cancel at the last minute though when she took delivery of a bunch of flowers from the missing Dennis, telling her that he was coming back that night.

Zoe rushed to the station to meet him but after a couple of hours standing around gormlessly like a Ferreira, Zoe’s plain evil cousin, Stacy, appeared with a grin spread across her fat chops. “Waiting for someone are yer?” she taunted Zoe. “Well ‘e ain’t never gonna show cos it was me who sent you them flowers.”

A distraught Zoe ran off into the night and straight into Dennis himself, who really has returned from his wanderings/ failed attempt at a Hollywood career. “I’m sorry Zoe,” he lamely told her, trying to explain his absence of a month, “I just need to sort my head out.”

Zoe, being young and in love (and a Slater) was more than happy with that explanation and promptly fell into his arms. Dennis has apparently realised that it’s Zoe he really loves and has asked her to move in with him. And of course, this being Walford – the London Borough modelled on the Tardis, there just so happened to be a spare flat they could move into the very next day.

Unfortunately for Zoe though, the flat happened to be Sharon’s old drum, a fact she was very quick to point out to her love rival. “Dennis and I made love in every room of that flat,” Sharon told her, as six million people simultaneously dry-retched.

Sharon has decided that she’s going to fight for ‘her man’ even though he’s actually her step-brother. “You don’t love Zoe,” she told Dennis, doing her special quivering lip thing for added emphasis. “Why can’t yer just admit the truth.”

Dennis looked horrified at his sister and told her that he’d moved on. “It’s wrong Sharon,” he told her, “it’s terribly wrong.” Referring either to their sexual relationship or their acting, to be honest, it was impossible to tell.

Sharon isn’t going to take this lying down – which is a first for her – and stormed round to have it out with Zoe. “You’ll never have what we could have had,” she told Zoe before smacking her round the face. What? Genetically damaged children? Hardly a great threat is it?’

Posted: 26th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Dirty Harry

‘WELL, at least Prince Harry is having more sex than his mother and father ever did, at least with each other.

They always go for the girl who reminds them of their mother

This morning’s papers are full of stories about how the 20-year-old’s trip to Argentina has been cut short “amid claims he was an unruly drunk who had become a gangland kidnap target”.

Buckingham Palace has been quick to deny both claims, saying that his holiday was shortened because a knee injury prevented him from playing polo.

And Clarence House said the prince had always been scheduled to return yesterday.

However, the Mirror hears from farm manager Oscar del Valle, who says Harry spent most of his time in Argentina boozing and chatting up girls in clubs.

“The reason for his early departure was he was out of control,” he said. “He was judged to be ungovernable.

“He’d go to traditional bars visited only by men. He’d drink beer and play pool. He was popular because he had no airs and graces.”

But he wasn’t just popular with the men, by the sounds of it.

“The word in Lobos was that he took girls he met in cafes or in the Plaza back to El Remanso ranch for fun with them,” said Senor del Valle.

“He is described as a ‘pinton’, the local word for good-looking. He was using his good looks to attract them and it worked.”

In other words, Harry was behaving pretty much as any normal 20-year-old boy would – so, no wonder the Royal Family was horrified by his behaviour.

In that respect, he should be much more like his dad.

The Sun says sensational tapes are to be aired in the United States next week, on which Princess Diana claims her husband “only wanted sex with her every THREE WEEKS”.

And his interest in lovemaking (with her) completely fizzled out after the birth of his youngest son.

“There was never a requirement for it from him,” she says on the tape (which was recorded by voice coach Peter Settelen and found its way to Paul Burrell’s house).

“Once every three weeks about, and I kept thinking – it followed a pattern. He used to see his lady once every three weeks before we got married.”

Or, given Prince Charles’s affinity with tampons, maybe that was once every four weeks…’

Posted: 26th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Testing Test

‘IF Prince Harry has not inherited his father’s lack of interest in sex, nor has he inherited his father’s brain.

Picture clue

Prince Charles famously won a place at Cambridge on the strength of his A-level results – a B in history, a C in French and, er, an A in being heir to the throne.

Prince Harry, by contrast, may or may not have needed the help of his teacher to get the art A-level that qualifies him to become an officer in the British Army.

But would either of them be able to pass the 1898 school entrance test reproduced in this morning’s Mail?

The paper says the exam, for 11-year-olds, “would probably prove far too difficult for most of today’s A-level students” – and their teachers.

Questions include “Give some account of Egbert, William II, Richard III, Robert Blake, Lord Nelson”, “Find the GCM of 13621 and 159848” and “Name the British possessions in America with the chief town of each”.

And “If the Prince Of Wales wants sex every three weeks and the Princess Of Wales wants sex every three minutes, who’s Prince Harry’s dad?”’

Posted: 26th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Bon Mot

‘“GIRLS in white dresses with blue satin sashes, ointments that get rid of, er, spots and bad rashes, brown paper packages wrapped up in strings…”

‘Discombobulate’

These are of course a few of our favourite things – but what would we choose if we had to distil it all into one word. What, in short, is our favourite word in the English language?

We will leave you to ponder that over a boiled egg – Is Comfi-Slax one word or two? Do you prefer to Feltz or to Wheelbarrow? – while we look at some of the words chosen in a survey of more than 40,000 people in 102 non-English speaking countries.

We no doubt have the non-English speaking president of the United States to thank for the presence of ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty’ in the Top 10, both of which incidentally come in above ‘peace’ and ‘tranquillity’.

We imagine Dubya is also responsible for “flip-flip” at No.59, and quite possibly “hodgepodge” at No.64. “Pretzel” sadly doesn’t quite do enough to make the list.

But what about “fuselage” (67), “smithereens” (60) and “explosion” (66)?

According to the British Council, which conducted the survey to mark its 70th anniversary, they were the choices of a certain Mr B Laden, Tora Bora, Afghanistan.

So, now you’ve finished your boiled egg, what is the most beautiful word in the English language?

We’ll give you a clue – the Express uses a picture of Kate Winslet to illustrate it.

No, not “podgy” nor “rotund”, you horrible people. What? “Titanic”? Come on, what’s Kate really famous for? “Divorced”? No. “Sobbing”?

Okay, we’ll tell you. The answer is…“mother”. That’s right, mother is the favourite word in the whole of the English language.

As voted for by a Mr S Hussein, formerly of Iraq, and author of the phrase “mother of all battles”…’

Posted: 25th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Come, All Ye Unfaithful

‘CELEBRITY mother Kate Winslet was, we hasten to point out, NOT unfaithful to James Threapleton, her first husband and father of daughter Mia.

‘Titanic’

She happened to meet Sam Mendes when she and James were going through a bad time, but NOTHING happened until after they had gone their separate ways.

However, Kate may just possibly have thought about having an affair during that time.

If so, we could not have blamed her – according to a survey published in the Mail, nine out of ten women have thoughts about infidelity at some time or other.

But whether they act on those thoughts or not is to some extent genetic.

Scientists have identified an infidelity gene, which means that if they should stray, it is most probably their mother – beautiful word, isn’t it? – who is to blame.

“I think the thing to appreciate,” says Professor Tim Spector, “is that if you are given the right environment most people will not be unfaithful.”

Kate, for instance, would now not even entertain the thought of being unfaithful because she loves her husband – sob, sob – so much she – sob, sob – could cry.

[Blather on until tears dry and divorce papers come through…]’

Posted: 25th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Comic Relief

‘WITH Ozzy Osbourne still trying to recover his shakes after his ordeal at the hands of a gem thief, we have tales of more intruders this morning.

‘Pallid’

Intruder No.1 is Vic Reeves, who was parachuted into the Australian jungle to be reunited with wife Nancy Sorrell and to put a bit of passion (2) into this year’s I’m A Celebrity.

The Star (“We’ll Fumble In The Jungle”) says the comic’s arrival hasn’t met with universal approval, especially from Fran Cosgrove (who had been making pathetic attempts to get into Nancy’s knickers) and Janet Street-Porter (who is worried she’ll be kept awake by Vic getting into Nancy’s knickers).

But he’s a lot more welcome than the female stalker who, the Sun says, has now TWICE broken into George Michael’s North London home.

And more welcome indeed than our old friends, The Sex Inspectors.

Award-winning Star columnist, former TV presenter and part-time bouncy castle Vanessa Feltz this morning issues this warning – don’t go sticking your snooty noses under my duvet.

Somehow, Nessie, we think you’re safe.

The nation may be happy to witness a live post-mortem, to watch Rebecca Loos pleasuring farmyard animals and to see Janet Street-Porter without make-up.

But there are still some things we really haven’t got the stomach for…’

Posted: 25th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


Breaking & Entering

‘EVERYONE’S a liberal, they say, until they become a victim of crime.

A special delivery

And Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne are happy to tell reporters what they think about the state of law and order in Britain after falling victim to a £1m jewel robbery.

“It’s Safer In Los Angeles” is the Express’s headline, although how it arrived at that conclusion from what the former Black Sabbath rocker said we don’t know.

“We lived in LA where people get shot every day and there are drive-by shootings, stalkers and all that” is what he actually said.

“We came back to England and I’m very disappointed.”

Sharon is a little more than disappointed, telling the Sun: “They may as well have ripped the heart out of me.”

For all the lucrative trade in donor organs, we suspect the thieves will find it easier to dispose of their haul of diamond rings and watches.

However, the Mail is more concerned with intruders of a different kind.

“Save Us From The Sex Inspectors,” demands Desmond Morris of the Channel 4 show, the first episode of which broadcast last night.

We might suggest that judicious use of the off button on the TV remote control would do the job.

But this is the Mail and it would have its readers believe that the sex inspectors will soon be driving around in vans like the TV licensing lot.

“This is Big Brother speaking,” it imagines the inspectors saying.

“All citizens failing to attain the approved decibel level when reaching sexual climax will be required to attend their local orgasm clinics three times a week.”

Of course, this is nonsense, the product of the Mail’s rather fevered imagination.

Anyone failing to achieve a sufficiently loud orgasm will instead have a copy of Anorak’s Pop-Up Guide To The Wheelbarrow shoved through their letterbox…’

Posted: 24th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment


One Into Five Won’t Go

‘IF the sex inspectors had knocked on Robbie Williams’s door at any time during the past few years, the chances are they would have found him in bed with a Spice Girl.

‘Ip dip, sky blue, who’s it? Not you. Not because you’re Scary, not because you’re Posh…’

The Star leads this morning with the singer’s claim that he bedded four of the five original members of the group.

“And last night,” says the paper, “the guessing game was on to work out which unlucky lady missed out.”

A source explains: “The Geri and Mel C relationships were well-known and one other fling was hinted at in the past.

“But if he’s saying he’s slept with four of the girls, it either means he got it on with his best mate’s woman or Posh Spice – or both.

“Basically, it means he’s slept with two out of Posh, Scary and Baby.”

We are grateful for the “source” for this explanation – and perhaps we could suggest a career as a maths teacher.

If kids are going to get to grips with basic arithmetic, then what better way to explain it to them?

“If the sex inspectors arrive at David Beckham’s house and find one of Posh Spice, Rebecca Loos and Sarah Marbeck in David’s bed and one on the spare room, who’s pleasuring the pig..?”’

Posted: 24th, November 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment