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.
Plastercine Explosives
‘THIS week weve been invited to wonder what could have happened had men dressed as Batman and Basil Brush been terrorists and not disgruntled fathers, pro-hunt demonstrators or plain old uniform fetishists.
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| What if that egg had been a grenade? |
Readers were invited to suppose that, had bombs replaced placards and T-shirts, Britain would be in tatters.
What would we – let alone the papers – do if a superhero had done for the Royals? What evil would plug the void created after a mendacious badger had destroyed Parliament?
The possibilities were too awful to contemplate. Until, that is, the Sun began to wonder what life would be like without John Prescott.
So it sent Anthony France into the House Of Commons to pose as a waiter.
And in place of a salver of drinks, the paper gave our intrepid reporter a Tupperware box containing a lump of blue plastercine and a small travel clock.
This, dear reader, was his bomb.
The story goes that, having used bogus references to get the £5.50-an-hour job, France ambled past shambolic security while carrying his weapon.
Later, now dressed in a blue apron and a white paper hat, he served Deputy Prime Minister Prescott with drinks.
I could have strapped the explosive to my waist and triggered it besides Mr Prescott, says France. Had I been a terrorist, I could have assassinated him at any moment.
He could have, but he didnt.
Indeed, we cant help but smile as we consider the scene, where France screams The Sun Is Great and We Love It, pulls out his £2,99 alarm clock, triggers his explosives and bellows BANG! at the top of his voice.
To many, this is plainly ridiculous, but to the Leader of the House, Peter Hain, it beggars belief.
This confirms all my worst fears and why I have so determinedly pushed for much tighter security in the Commons, says he. The Sun has done the House a big favour.
Perhaps, but it could have done us all a far bigger one…’
Tally Ho!
‘THE whole fox-hunting debate would be made a lot simpler if the glorified vermin would just speak up for themselves.
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| Horsey-types for courses |
But whether out of fear or stupidity, the fox isnt speaking, leading the papers to look elsewhere for a few words on the debate thats making the world sit up and laugh.
This leads the Star to give a call to hunt protestor Gemma Richards, who stood outside the corridors of power dressed in pair of jodhpurs and a bra.
Above her head she held aloft a banner which read: THIS FINE FILLY HUNTS.
The suggestion seems to be that not all hunting types are chinless wonders and that hunting can get you laid.
Todays Gemma says that not putting her shirt on was the best way I could draw attention to our cause.
And by our cause, she means the pro-hunting cause and not the Stars cause, which is to look at every news item from the viewpoint of an upturned nipple.
And neither is it the Mails cause, which is less worried about the issues than it is about the royal links of some of the protestors.
So, in THE RIGHT ROYAL REBELS, the Mail uses its front page to reveal how five of the eight pro-hunting demonstrators who stormed the House of Commons have strong links to the Royal Family.
Luke Tomlinson, we hear, plays polo with Prince Harry. Robert Thame plays the same game with Prince Charles. Singer Bryan Ferrys son, Otis, knows Harry well.
Nick Wood is a chef who has cooked for the Queen. And John Holliday has a photograph of himself hunting with Prince Charles hanging on his kitchen wall.
The identity of the other three is not revealed, but they are described respectively as being middle-aged and having FA Cup ears, of being tall and receding and of having ginger hair and a big fat spliff…’
News Just-in
‘CANCEL the dress, call off the hairdresser and put a stop order on the crab sticks Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake have split up.
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| ‘I’m really dating Ben Affleck’ |
This is a story billed as being EXCLUSIVE to the Mirror and, in truth, we cannot find it reported in any other paper.
This lack of corroborating evidence might cause some to doubt the storys validity but, since the Mirror has no photographs to prove its claim, we take it to be the truth.
As an insider says: Its all very amicable, but they both feel desperately in need of some time out.
They are both huge stars and sometimes the pressures of being in the public eye can be too much… They public interest is a thousand times more intense because they are both so famous.
Sure it is, and having, apparently, dated and fallen in love, interest in them has surely grown.
Indeed, they are now billed by the paper as Hollywood royalty.
And Cam and Justins blue blood might be something to consider when we are looking for our future King and Queen after the next reporter invades the Palace and shouts Kaboom!’
The House Of Ushers
‘EARLIER in the week, we were invited to wonder what would have occurred had Batman enthusiast Jason Hatch been an al-Qaeda terrorist or a suicide bomber.
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| ‘If your name’s not on the members’ list, you’re not coming in’ |
Today, an MP tells the Mirror his concerns that the five pro-hunt demonstrators that stormed the House of Commons yesterday could have been assassins.
In the space of a week we could have lost our MPs and our Royals, leaving a chasm in the social hierarchy to be filled by Premier League footballers and Star stunna Lucy Pinder.
And dont doubt that this pack know how to kill. We dread to think what could have happened had the Conservative co-chairman Dr Liam Fox been in the debating chamber when they invaded.
Indeed, for all we know, right now he may be fleeing for his very life over so much hedgerow and open farmland.
But MPs are not vermin. Really, they are not. And they dont have to rely just on their wits and raw cunning to keep them out of trouble, protected as they are by the Commons doorkeepers.
And there are Tonys bouncers in the Mail, pictured entering the House dressed in their fighting gear of black frock coats and tights, with black rosettes and swords.
For some reason the Express finds this pathetic and says that the scenes, broadcast around the world, are an embarrassment to the entire nation.
This is clearly nonsense, and we now call upon the Commons to turn the Ye Olde Worlde Storming Of The House into a daily event, whereby tourists are charged ten British pounds to see democracy in action.
Iraqis and visitors from totalitarian regimes could come and learn how in a free and fair society a man who disagrees with the vote – MPs voted by 356 to 190 to ban hunting and the protocol the legislation will not go before the House of Lords – can still have his voice heard.
Look on in silent awe, good tourist, as Protestor One (played by John Leslie) stands before the despatch box and declares: This isnt democracy. You are overturning democracy.
Labour MPs Clare Wards (Glenda Jackson) and Kate Hoey (Barbara Windsor) then stand up and scream: Get out, get out, get out.
Cue the men in tights (Danny La Rue, Dale Winton and Michael Flatley), who dash in and wrestle the gatecrashers to the ground.
They are then be taken outside and, as the Mirror suggests in its headline Toff With Their Head, are decapitated and their heads placed on spikes, replicas of which are available in the Commons shoppe.’
Red Alert
‘OUR suggestion that yesterdays Ye Olde Worlde Storming Of The House become a major tourist attraction has caused many of you to write in.
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| ”Ere, Tone, you look dead foxy’ |
Where, you ask, is Jessie Wallace in all this? Surely, the EastEnders actress is the ideal person to play Cherie Blair.
Who else but the sexiest woman in soap could dress as Superwoman, the First Ladys alter ego, and swoop down from the Strangers Gallery to save the day?
Well, before you start a campaign and chuck flour at casting agents, learn of the news in the Mirror that Jessie has dyed her hair red.
And since Cheries mop is as black as her bank balance, Wallace has tinted herself out of the prime role.
Not that she cares, however, as she walks hand in hand with her ex-ex-fiancé, Dave Morgan.
Yes, folks, thats right – Dave and pregnant Jessie are very much an item again. After much soul searching, their engagement is back on.
Oh, come on, men of Britain, dry your eyes. Put your own bruising disappointment to one side and try to be as happy for Jessie as she is for herself.
Yes, its true were back together, says Jessie, her words stabbing like a white stiletto to the heart of British manhood.
And, let it not go unsaid, a sizeable chink of the countrys womanhood too.’
Letter Of The Law
‘SOME good news and bad news now as we read the Mirrors update of the James Hewitt case.
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| ‘It’s a rum lot…and coke’ |
Not long back, you will recall that our resident cad was apprehended by the police and found to be possession of a white powder.
We could not have been more shocked had it been a bag of Princess Dianas ashes when we heard the rumours that this powder was cocaine, a drug that induces an artificial high in the taker.
It now gives us no whooping, dancing, all-singing pleasure to say that Hewitt admitted that the powder was indeed said narcotic.
Thats the bad news. The better news is that Hewitt who has received a police caution for his sins – refused to say how he came about the illegal substance.
We are not surprised by his stoicism. If there is one thing we know about Hewitt, it is that, whatever the pressure to talk, whatever the inducement to spill the beans on his pals, he will not budge.
Dont snort, its true. And if you dont believe us, you can put it in a letter and smoke it…’
Daddy’s Girl
‘HOW much do you love your children?
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| ‘To oblivion and beyond’ |
Once upon a time, proof lay in the rod and the birch. Later, love became an appearance on a Saturday morning kidz TV show, in which good sport dad would have a pint of custard poured down his tights in an act of ritual humiliation.
Now it involves dressing up as a superhero and standing on a ledge outside Buckingham Palace for five hours.
Thats love. Thats real love.
But the papers are not convinced, and Jason Hatchs protest to see his two children by his failed second marriage is being looked upon anew by the Suns front page.
In BATMAN DUMPED, we hear from Gemma Polson, with whom Hatch has a seven-month-old daughter, and learn that shes now split from her hero.
She says that Fathers 4 Justice – the campaign group striving to secure equal rights for fathers when a marriage goes sour has taken over his life.
He was seeing hardly anything of our daughter, says Gemma, a bit rich when the point of his campaign was to allow dads to see more of their children.
The little love, however, can see lots of her dad, since hes plastered over the Express, telling the papers reporters: I would do anything, even die, to see my own children.
But rather than committing an act of hari-kari on the gates of Buckingham Palace, Hatch could always just give Gemma a call and pop home to see little Amelia.
Not that hed be allowed to commit suicide, anyhow, since the police are busy telling the Express that the next person who dresses up like a superhero and storms the Palace will be shot.
The only thing is that its not illegal to trespass on royal property, so being shot for breaking no law may be viewed in some quarters as the cops being a tad overzealous.
Not so, say the police, who argue that terrorists could pose as pranksters to launch attacks.
So if you do see Osama bin Laden pretending to be Aaron Barschak or a mad mullah dressed as Buzz Lightyear, screaming about going to infinity and beyond, best duck.
Or else be killed in the crossfire…’
Jack Of All Trades
‘IN spite of much evidence to the contrary (Madonnas acting; Des OConnors singing; Naomi Campbells writing), celebs still think they can turn their hand to something new.
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| Leaving audiences shaken not stirred |
Few go into coal mining, say, or train driving, preferring at least to stick within the showbusiness industry.
And today we hear of two stars gamely making the bold leap into something new.
First up is Amanda Holden, who, according to the Star, is all set to become the new Dolly Parton.
Of course, our Amanda has less front than Dolly, but she does have a self-confessed country-twang to her voice.
And she tells the Star record companies have approached her with a view to turning her into a new music star.
If she wants to be the next Dolly, those music executives had best be carrying a large blade and two airbags along with any contract.
But while Amanda waves hello to Dolly and goodbye to her feet, the Sun spots John Leslie making his stage debut.
Starring as Mr Wickham in Pride and Prejudice at the Yvonne Arnauld Theatre, Guildford, Surrey, the Sun says Leslies performance included singing, dancing and some piano playing.
I thought he was very good considering he has had no formal training, says one spectator. Everyone must be given a second chance.
And to Leslie that means a self-imposed score of six out of ten.
I was very nervous as soon as I stepped on stage, says he, first night nerves and all that jazz. I couldnt stop shaking.
Thats too bad. But one other audience member, described as a regular first nighter, said: It was strange to see him up there. It was like watching reality TV.
A show where a too-tall, disgraced former childrens TV presenter tries to fake it as an actor…’
PC World
‘TODAY we learn that the crime thats causing the celebrity world sleepless nights has claimed another victim. Natasha Bedingfield has had her laptop stolen.
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| ‘Now I’ll have to release all my crap songs instead’ |
Usually when a fledgling popstar, such as Natasha, loses her computer, its full of picture of her and some man in an intimate clinch.
But Natasha is different her laptop contained no pictures of her naked, rather the music and lyrics from her latest work.
The Sun hears that the singer is devastated, while her music company is said to be in a state of panic that the music may be lost to the world forever.
Catching his breath and panting hard into a brown paper bag, a record industry type manages to talk.
She is the biggest name to hit the charts in years, he gasps. The material on that computer could be worth millions.
Lets just hope and fingers crossed everyone theres another copy of this rich body of work on disc or back at the record firms HQ.
And to all you showbiz types out there, lets stop leaving your laptops in places where they can be nicked.
Who do you think you are, MI6 agents..?’
Driving Up The Ratings
‘IN Britain, most live TV studio audiences are made up of OAPs on a cut-priced charabanc from the rest home.
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| ‘Do you want this award for tuning in or would you prefer cash?’ |
For them, the gift is just seeing life beyond the four walls of their cell-like dorms and living another day.
But over in the States, audiences expect more. They are greedier, hungrier and fatter than their British counterparts.
And, being less mobile than a British OAP with a Zimmer Frame, they demand something extra.
Now, the Mail reports, the audience at Oprah Winfreys chat show got just the thing: a car…each.
Not that Oprah didnt know her audience theyd all written begging letters into the show saying how they desperately needed a new car.
So Oprahs people called General Motors and they donated 275 Pontiac G6 motors to the show, which, at showroom prices, would have cost her £3m.
Meanwhile, back in the studios of Anglia TV, the warm-up man for Trisha Goddard The Oprah of Norwich is trying to whip the crowd into a frenzy, without any free cars.
Whats brown and sticky, gang? he asks. A stick, he replies.
Not a stick shift, you understand, just a stick. A brown one…’
Batma’am
‘THE first thing police attending Buckingham Palace yesterday should have asked themselves was: Wheres Robin?
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| ‘Do come down, Edward. You’ll catch a nasty chill going out like that in your pyjamas’ |
We are no experts in crime here at Anorak Towers leading blameless lives of law-abiding probity but even we know that where Batman goes, Robin must surely follow.
But the police who ambled to the Palace yesterday to confront a man who had climbed onto a ledge with, of all crazy things, a ladder only have eyes for the caped crusader.
And the papers all have eyes for the scene, leading with a shot of Batman, aka Bruce Wayne, aka the Suns angry dad Jason Hatch, standing on a ledge close to the main balcony.
Beneath Batman or PRATMAN (Star and Mirror) hangs a banner on which is written the message: SUPER DADS OF FATHERS 4 JUSTICE FIGHTING FOR YOUR RIGHT TO SEE YOUR KI.
The final part of Batmans strap line is curled around a parapet, so although we are pretty confident the KI is one half of the word KIDS, it might just as easily says KIPPERS, KITCHEN or perhaps a thematic KING PENGUIN.
It could say pretty much anything. And its only inside the Mail that readers get to hear about the nature of the protest and learn that Hatch is distraught at having had his children taken away from him after his second marriage broke up.
Its a sad story, but the papers are far more interested in how a man dressed up as Batman and carrying a long ladder came to arrive on the side of what should be one of the most secure buildings in the land.
While we wonder if security staff mistook the masked hero for Prince Eddie returning from another night of derring-do on the capitals streets, the Mail says: KAPOW! Batman makes laughing stock of Brians security forces (But what if had been al Qaeda?).
And WHAT IF HE HAD BEEN A SUICIDE BOMBER? asks the Express on its front page.
We dread to think. Its a puzzle that only the Riddler would stand any chance of solving, although the Express hears police say that, if he had have been a terrorist with bombs strapped to his person, theyd have shot him.
Thats a great comfort to us, to the royals, to the journalists-cum-butlers that work in the Palace and to the hundreds of tourists with their faces pressed up against the gates each day.
But we shouldnt worry too much because the Sun brings news that Robin has also been apprehended, and Dick Grayson, aka 48-year-old David Pyke, will be questioned by police along with his guardian.
Just as soon as Commissioner Jim Gordon gets here, theyll begin the interrogation ’
An Unsafe Seat
‘HOW dare Liaqat Ali still be alive! Its nothing less than an outrage.
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| Liaqat Ali, 18 Harris Road, Manchester, M13 0PX |
Thats pretty much the attitude of the Mail and Express, which both focus on the man who was granted asylum in Britain after he convinced immigration officials that hed be killed if he ever returned to his native Pakistan.
The thing is that he has been to Pakistan, having spent 18 days in the county to celebrate his sons wedding.
And since hes now returned to Blighty, we can say, with a degree of confidence, that hes not dead.
No-one even tried to shoot him, drown him, blow him up or even poison him. No-one even found him.
And thats no mean feat because Ali – a Liberal Democrat councillor for the Longsight ward of Manchester is said by the Express to have attended a number of high-profile engagements and appeared in the local Pakistani press.
Happily, the Express had more luck than the nefarious forces out to get Ali, and caught up with him back home in Manchester.
For my sons wedding I took the risk and because my mother had fallen sick, he said.
I did feel threatened, but no-one knew I was there and I kept moving around all the time. I have broken no laws and believe most fathers would have done what I did.
Indeed they would have done, although most British fathers would have done it disguised as a comic book hero.
But his point is taken, although its not one supported by former Labour councillor Sajjid Hussain, who lost his seat to Ali.
The Mail reports that Hussain has now called on the Home Office to review Alis case.
I know asylum seekers who fear they will be killed if they return to their homeland, says Hussain. They would not go back for any reason.
Oh, come on, lets be reasonable. Surely theyd go back for their sons wedding? What about an ill mother? A dying aunty? A three-legged dog with sore gums? A good party..?’
Chewing The Fat
‘LAST July we revealed Beckhams addiction to the Super Noodles snack, trumpets the Sun.
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| ‘We’re expecting a tattoo’ |
But never ones to sit on their hands, the reporters that brought you that scoop now tells us that Beckham has become obsessed with BASKETBALL.
When taken in isolation these stories mean very little – so little, in fact, that many readers may be lulled into believing them to be trite, shallow nonsense.
But when placed in the context of the story that Beckham and his talented wife Victoria are rowing and contemplating a trial separation, they resonate like a double whammy.
News is that its Day-vids appreciation of basketball that is leading him to ape his heroes and cover his body in tattoos.
And this has caused friction between the pair, leading to the Mails headline: I married a tattooed yob, says Victoria.
Says a source, said to be close to the couple: She hates his looks, hates the tattoos all over his body and hates the way he swears and rants all the time.
But hold on a moment, because here comes the Express, leading its piece on the story of the day with the splash: Posh: I did not call David an Essex yob.
But while the debate into what she did nor did not say rumbles on through the day and well into the night, we take another look at those famous Super Noodles.
Weve taken the liberty of buying a packet of Beckhams favourite foodstuff and noted that, aside from making us play football a whole lot better and lending a soprano lilt to our voices, the snacks can be made ready for consumption in less than ten minutes.
In itself this is another interesting fact in a day of interesting facts, but when placed alongside the Mirrors front-page news that Posh and Becks spent four hours together over lunch at the Madrid Ritz, it becomes nothing less than a sensation.
If Becks loves Super Noodles – and we know he does (do they remind him of his wife?) – wed expect him to wolf them down with gusto.
Perhaps, after just a few minutes, the noodle bowl would be licked clean.
Which leaves the question of what the couple did for the rest of the time. And makes us wonder if it is possible to make a Super Noodle last for, say, three hours and 53 minutes?
Which is something perhaps we should ask her Poshness and, just as soon as shes stopped chewing, the fearless Sun will do just that…’
Pearly Mates
‘WITH Posh and Becks marriage moving in the same direction as her singing career, its good to see that one other celebrity couple are going great guns.
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| ‘This shandy don’t ‘alf taste funny’ |
The Sun brings news of Madonna and Mrs Madonna, aka Guy Ritchie, and how the singer threw a party for the Cockney geezers 36th birthday.
No swanky champagne do for Guy, though, or bubbly jubbly, as hed doubtless call it. Just an honest-to-goodness bash in a pub room, which er indoors had hired for 30 nicker.
The Punchbowl in Londons Cockney haven of East Mayfair was just the ticket for Guy to let his hair dahn, roll aht the barrel and have a crackin knees-up with some of his old chinas and a two-piece Irish band.
There was Madonna, singing her little eart aht, dressed in baggy jeans, a flat cap and hardly any make-up, knocking back alf pints of real ale, while er Guy drank Guinness.
He stayed on until 3:30 and was in a right old state, says a mate of his, telling all his pals how much he loved them and singing at the top of his voice.
It sounds like a great laugh, and if anyone wants to hire the pub for their own themed marriage, we have learnt that its available for birthday parties, weddings and Kabbalah-styled Bar Mitzvahs.
Drinks and red bracelets can be supplied, but youll have to bring your own genuine Cockneys…’
Splitting Hairs
‘AN excerpt now from Anoraks new book: Political Correctness Gone Mad – Stories Guaranteed To Annoy The Mail.
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| ‘Ruddy Asian lice, come over ‘ere and take our follicles…’ |
Todays extract, found appropriately in the Mail, concerns the Welsh Development Agencys decision to send staff on a training course during which they were instructed how not to offend people from ethnic minorities.
And among the advice to refrain from calling Cornishmen tinheads and not to ask to see people from the Forest of Deans webbed feet, came the advice to avoid using the term nit-picking.
This phrase has now been blacklisted – or whitelisted, as they say in developing Wales since it has links with the slave trade, referring to when the salves had their hair examined for lice.
Not so, says the papers language expert, Michael Quinton, who argues that both nitty-gritty and nit-piker are wrongly associated with the trade in human flesh.
Nick Seaton, of the Campaign For Real Education – whose number is on speed dial at the Mails head offices – agrees.
This is clearly political correctness gone mad, says he, and it insults peoples intelligence.
And it also means that well have to find a new name for the branch of Nit-Pickers R Us we were planning to open in Llwyn-Dafydd.
So send your ideas for new name to the usual address, and try to steer away from anything contentious, like Boots (offensive to Nazis), Monsoon (offensive to Bangladeshis) and Gap (offensive to people with widely spaced teeth)…’
It’s A Boy
‘IT’S a boy! It’s a girl! It’s a little Labrador puppy called Bouncer!
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| ‘La-la-la-la. Not listening. La-la-la…’ |
Given the Mirror’s embarrassing experience last time when it confidently (and wrongly) announced that David Beckham’s second child was a girl, the Sun is taking a big risk this morning.
But it claims that the high-tech device at the London clinic where Victoria Beckham has just had her 13-week scan is so advanced that even at this early stage it can detect a blink in an unborn baby’s eye, let alone the child’s gender.
And it has spoken to a pal of the Beckhams who confirmed that the little foetus was a boy.
‘Everybody knows David and Victoria would have liked a little girl,’ the pal says. ‘It’s fair to say they were a little disappointed, but that soon passed.
‘They’re just looking forward to the new arrival.’
And so are we – not just to see what name Day-vid and Victoria choose this time, but also as one quarter of a future all-Beckham England midfield.
Nor does it matter that young Carlos Beckham will not turn one until a couple of months before the 2006 World Cup – the England squad is full of babies.
That’s the verdict of the Star, which accuses the ‘spoiled soccer prima donnas’ of ‘throwing their toys out of the pram’ after refusing to speak to the media on Wednesday night.
‘Overpaid, Pampered, Pathetic!’ is its verdict on the silent protest after the 2-1 victory over Poland.
‘Has their ever been a more childish, pathetic bunch?’ asks the paper’s chief sports writer Brian Woolnough.
And it’s a view shared – in another rhetorical question – by the Sun’s Richard Littlejohn.
‘Who do they imagine is paying for the Cadillac Escalades, Rolex kettles, bling-bling jewellery, vintage champagne, million-pound mansions and other assorted trappings?’ he asks.
But answer came there none. It’ll be a couple of years before Paella Beckham can speak for his dad…’
Song For Whoever
‘TRACEY Emin famously inscribed a tent with the names of all her lovers in the name of art.
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| ‘There was Geri, she got me merry/ And now I’m so very…ashamed’ |
And now Geri Halliwell is following suit, penning a song about the failings of her various ex-boyfriends.
However, according to the Star, the artist formerly known as Ginger Spice has changed the names to keep the guilty parties guessing (and to make the rhymes easier).
Lines include: ‘There was Peter, he was a cheater/ Who couldn’t keep his hands to himself./ There was Ritchie, well, he got bitchy/ So I left him there on the shelf.
‘And there was David, when he got naked/ He didn’t have much up or downstairs.’
The Star says Halliwell hopes her exes, who include Robbie Williams, Chris Evans, Bobby Hashemi, Duncan James and Fred Durst, will go crazy trying to work out who is who.
‘Any ex,’ she says, ‘is going to be looking at it, going: ‘I hope that’s not me.”
Rather like appearing on the inside of Emin’s tent, we suspect the embarrassment of having a tiny willy will pale besides the humiliation of having gone to bed with the self-styled 32-year-old in the first place…’
Apples And Oranges
‘GWYNETH Paltrow is a child of the age – and, as we now know it is the age of the cleavage, the actress was showing off her bosom as she went out to lunch yesterday.
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| A 17th Century Jennifer Ellison |
Needless to say and in the absence of another picture of Jennifer Ellison, the Mirror was there to capture this zeitgeist moment.
And this morning it plasters the results over its Page 3.
‘Swell Gwyn,’ says the headline, drawing a rather unflattering parallel between The Macrobiotic Woman and the 17th Century orange-seller who was Charles II’s mistress.
‘Her pregnancy seems to have left her with the figure she always dreamed of,’ the paper says.
‘She has seen her cleavage fill out from an A cup to a C cup, giving her the buxom look of that other famous Gwyn.’
The difference is that, while Nell’s cleavage might have had a bit of help from her oranges, Gwyn only has Apple to thank for hers…’
Martin In The Mire
‘EASTENDERS producers have called in the cavalry to try and stop the ratings slide admittedly it was a cavalry riding into Walford in an ice cream truck, but the first signs are good.
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| ‘Not that bloody Rebecca Loos again!’ |
The Millars arrived in Albert Square this week the family of Walfords resident wide boy, Mickey. The family consists of dad Keith who hasnt worked for several years due to his bad back, mum Rosie, who has a very delightful range of tracksuit bottoms, and 13-year-old twins Darren and Demi.
Darren has already stolen takings from the Queen Vic and Demi is eight months pregnant so they should fit right into Albert Square.
Within their first week in Walford, theyve already managed to start a family feud with the Fowlers.
Dad Keith managed to acquire a new bed that Pauline had ordered when he found it outside their house. Mum Rosie is also convinced that Pauline fancies her husband, when she found her in their bedroom, fighting over the bed.
Hostilities escalated when Keith held an impromptu street barbecue, as you do in the East End of London, and managed to set fire to Arthurs bench. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, youd have to have a heart of stone not to laugh.
Elsewhere in the Square, Kareena is back from Ibiza, complete with a sexy new image or so producers hope. Shes moved back in with her brothers into the incredible expanding flat, which housed at the last count, six people in two bedrooms.
Spencer was devastated to discover that his girlfriend Kelly wasnt coming back. Shes, er, found some more work out there, Kareena shiftily told Spencer. As Kellys last job was as a prostitute, hes got every reason to worry.
Someone else who should also be worried is Martin. While Sonia and Pauline were keeping an all-night vigil at the hospital for Dot, Martin decided to go up West with the Ferriera boys for a postponed stag do.
Mickey, being the sensitive new man that he is, started riling Martin for settling down too early although strangely he didnt bring up the fact that, not only had he married too young, hed also married a warthog.
Martin stormed off in a sulk and got talking to a young waitress called Sarah. My mates dont understand me, he told her which is a nice twist on the usual married mans chat-up line.
Martin continued to drown his sorrows until they were so drowned he passed out. Unfortunately for him, he happened to pass out completely naked in Sarahs bed.
The next morning, he quietly fled the scene of his crime and hoped that hed be able to pretend it never happened. This is Soap World though, where every infidelity has to be exposed although obviously not for a good few episodes to milk the storyline.
Somehow Sarah had managed to get hold of Martins number and has set about calling and texting him night and day. She even turned up in the Square, asking if hed dumped his wife for her yet.
Look, it was a mistake, Martin hissed to her in the caff. Now leave me alone.
Sarahs a determined girl, however, and isnt going to give up. Although quite what the allure of a lanky fruit and veg seller is, is anyones guess.
Perhaps shes got a fruit fetish shes clearly got a soft spot for lemons.’
The Age Of The Cleavage
‘WOMEN, according to a Good Housekeeping survey, put more passion into their housework than their love lives…but the men who run Fleet Street are as sex-obsessed as ever.
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| ‘Me again!’ |
Jennifer Ellison’s breasts make a third appearance in as many days this morning as the Mirror ushers in ‘the age of the cleavage’.
This comes as quite a surprise to seasoned tabloid watchers here at Anorak Towers – we were under the impression that every day was ‘the age of the cleavage’.
But the Mirror claims to have spotted a new trend, with the best of the breast on display at this week’s various award ceremonies.
And, to illustrate its point, the paper has pictures of the main offenders – Zoe Lucker, Sarah Manners and Lucy Pargeter at the TV Quick Awards, Victoria Silvstedt and Rachel Stevens at the GQ Awards, Amy Winehouse and Jamelia at the Mercury Music Awards and Jordan just being Jordan.
‘This season, boobs are everywhere,’ the paper says. ‘Not just on the red carpet or at glitzy celeb hotspots. Not just on the beaches, bars and nightclubs.
‘You can’t step outside the front door without a bosom pointing straight at you.’
Nor can you open a newspaper without suffering the same fate – this morning’s Star has Abi Titmuss’s silicone-enhanced cleavage emblazoned across its front page.
And inside a scantily-clad Rachel Hunter introduces yet another sex survey, this time suggesting that women who wear stockings have more sex than those who wear tights.
‘They are far more likely to dress up for nookie sessions,’ reports the paper, ‘are more up-front about starting sex romps and have more quick flings.’
But do they do the housework?
According to the Star, Abi Titmuss, Rachel Hunter, Victoria Silvstedt, Britney Spears and Kylie Minogue all swear by stockings.
But, if the Good Housekeeping poll (reported in this morning’s Mail) is right, then two of the five will actually get more pleasure from cleaning than from making love.
A disappointment to all those men who have been salivating over images of Kylie with a feather duster…’
Rhyme Time
‘IF there is one thing that tabloid sub-editors like more than sex, it’s certainly not housework – it’s rhyming headlines.
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| Klum glum as bum goes numb |
And this morning the Star and the Sun are fighting to outdo each other in the Fleet Street equivalent of the Detroit rap battles portrayed in the film 8 Mile.
Here’s the Sun’s introduction to a couple of ‘sizzling’ Page 3 photos of German supermodel Hedi Klum – ‘New Mum Klum Has No Tum.’
And here’s the Star’s Page 3 response – ‘Lizzy Gets Telly Tuck ‘Coz She’s Too Lardy For Suck.’
The story (such as it is) is that Wipe Swap loudmouth Lizzy Bardsley volunteered for liposuction treatment on five’s Cosmetic Surgery Live.
But she was turned down because she was too fat and too lazy – and is now pledging to have a tummy tuck instead.
Stand by for next week’s headlines about Thin Lizzy Gets Busy…’
Myths And Legends
‘THERE was a time when you had to be dead to be a true Hollywood legend, preferably leaving a young and beautiful corpse behind.
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| The legendary Nicole Kidman |
Failing that, you could be accorded legend status if you were at least 70-years-old and had five failed marriages behind you.
Times, however, have changed and these days it is quite enough to have made a couple of decent movies and one journey to the divorce court.
The problem is that no-one has told Lauren Bacall.
The Mail reports that the 79-year-old twice-married actress objected to her co-star Nicole Kidman being described as a screen legend at a press conference to promote their new film, Birth.
Answering a question from GMTV’s Jenni Falconer, Bacall grumbled: ‘She’s not a legend. She’s a beginner. What is this ‘legend’? She can’t be a legend at whatever age she is.’
Not true, Lauren. As we say, the rules have changed and anyone over the age of 21 can be a legend – as legendary TV journalist Jenni Falconer noted.
Just as anyone with two or more GCSEs can be a genius, anyone with a face that doesn’t make dogs puke can be a supermodel, and anyone with a pulse can be a showbiz reporter…’
Sex Appeal
”ARE sexual images in children’s media to blame for under-age sex?’
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| Are sexual images responsible for selling newspapers? |
If you think the answer is a) yes, b) definitely or c) hanging is too good for them, then the Daily Mail would like to hear from you.
You don’t have to answer immediately – while you’re thinking about it, perhaps you should peruse the scantily-clad young actresses who graced Monday’s nights TV Quick awards.
Never one to spurn sexual images in the name of selling papers, the Mail doles out awards over two pages to the various arrivals at London’s Dorchester Hotel.
Jennifer Ellison, for instance, wins an award for ‘Most Up-Front Performance’ – for giving the Mail the chance to print a picture of her breasts two days in a row.
Emmerdale’s Lucy Pargeter wins Worst Breasts In A Lead Role, with the judges commenting that she looked ‘like a secretary on a night out’.
Casualty’s Sarah Manners walks away with the Worst Breasts In A Supporting Role award for her ‘arty-tary’ ensemble.
And Coronation Street’s Tina O’Brien wins Worst Breasts In An Unsupporting Role for her appearance sans bra.
Wind the clock on 24 hours to yet another awards ceremony, this time GQ Magazine’s Men Of The Year awards, and once again it’s the frocks – and those who wear them – that steal the show.
The Sun blames model Heidi Klum, pop babe Rachel Stevens and telly hosts Cat Deeley and Tess Daly for ambushing the London bash, which is meant to celebrate male achievement.
And they must have done a very good job because the Mirror can barely see past 31-year-old Heidi’s vintage Chanel dress to tell us who else was there.
Pop newcomer Natasha Bedingfield apparently looked trendy in a tight-fitting top and long skirt, Charlotte Church wore black and, says the Star, Victoria Silvstedt wore not very much at all.
What the men were wearing, what men were there, indeed whether there were any men there – history does not relate.
Although, with Chris Moyles winning Radio Personality, we understand why the papers are trying to keep the whole thing quiet…’
All Shook Up
‘AFTER three days spent railing against Sheikh Omar Bakri Muhammad, the Star is fast running out of patience…and adjectives.
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| ‘Do the sheikh and vac and send the mullah back…’ |
On Monday, the paper demanded action against the ‘mad mullah’, who had apparently told its followers that it was okay to copy the Beslan terrorists and slaughter British kids.
On Tuesday, it was demanding that the Government act to expel the ‘crazed cleric’, who is planning a bash on Saturday to celebrate the 9/11 attacks on New York and the Pentagon.
And this morning, it claims the support of Prime Minister Tony Blair in its campaign to rid the country of this ‘twisted sheikh’ and other ‘hate-filled mullahs’.
Another couple of days of this and the paper will have completely run out of new ways to describe the ‘bearded’ Bakri.
But the Star will not rest until the ‘evil mullah’, who pockets £300-a-week in state handouts, is kicked out of the country.
And it’s got its readership firmly on its side – in yesterday’s phone vote, a ‘staggering’ 99% of readers said Sheikh Omar should be booted out of Britain.
Staggering, indeed – who was the Star reader who dared defy the party line?’
The Parent Trap
‘SADDAM Hussein may once have been able to boast 100% approval ratings, but 99% is as near as newspapers ever get to unanimity.
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| ‘And you think I’m stupid now…’ |
There’s always one person who misunderstands the question, who dials the wrong number or who is just plain bloody-minded and selects the wrong answer in the phone poll.
And the chances are that that person is someone who has just had a baby.
According to the Sun, having kids makes parents thick.
A study in the United States found that the IQ of both men and women dropped significantly in the immediate aftermath of having a child.
Dr Hosung Lee, of Indiana University, said all 173 couples tested fared worse after starting a family, with most dropping 20 or more IQ points.
‘It explains why parents think their kid is the smartest in class or the best athlete, even if that child is as dumb as a box of rocks or needs a calendar to time a 100-yard sprint,’ he says.
‘People who before were intelligent and open-minded turn into raving lunatics who want to blame a teacher or sports coach every time their mediocre child fails.’
Not that we use words like ‘mediocre’ and ‘failure’ these days – it’s just different levels of success.’
