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.
American Spice
‘WE have followed Emma Bunton’s post-Spice Girls career with great interest.
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| Will strip for cash |
We have watched as she reinvented herself again and again, peeling off one layer of clothing after another in a bid to make the British public buy her records.
But in vain – and this morning the Mirror reports that Naked Spice has decided to quit Britain and jet off to New York in ‘a last-ditch effort to revive her flagging career’.
A source reveals: ‘Emma’s ready for a new beginning. She’s seen how well Mel B has gone down in New York where she’s in Rent on Broadway and she feels she can make a real go of things there.
‘She’s especially keen to get into television and the people she’s having meetings with are the ones who can get her on influential shows like David Letterman and Jay Leno.’
As always, we at Anorak wish Emma the best of luck and we’re sure she will get the appreciation in America that she hasn’t got here.
After all, if there’s one thing that they’re short of Stateside it’s talentless blondes desperate for a career in TV…’
No Joke
‘WHERE is Norman Hale? Where is Gareth Pace?
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| The laughter never stops… |
The greatest comedy duo of the 20th Century – creators of such unforgettable characters as the, er, Two Rons – have sensationally been omitted from a list of our Top 20 funnymen.
And it’s not just the Mirror that’s flabbergasted by the results of the Reader’s Digest survey.
Tony Hancock, it says, got only 16 of the 2,000 votes cast, Peter Sellers five and Peter Cook only one.
The Two Ronnies, Ricky Gervais, Steve Coogan and Jennifer Saunders did not register at all. There’s no Cannon and Ball. No Little and Large. And – amazingly – no Hale and Pace.
Fez-wearing king of the one-liners Tommy Cooper tops the poll (ahead of Peter Kay), with 10% of the total votes cast.
After all, anyone who could get the audience to burst out laughing as he collapsed and died during a broadcast of Live From Her Majesty’s deserves the ultimate accolade.
But Norman and Gareth will be disappointed to see who else is ahead of them.
Billy Connolly, for instance, comes in at No.3 (largely due to the Scottish vote), Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown is at No.7, Jim Davidson at No.13 and Lenny Henry at No.17.
Hell, even Freddie Starr and Jasper Carrott make the list at the expense of our heroes.
‘Which makes me very angry, Ron.’ ‘Yes, Ron. It makes be VERY angry.’ Repeat until laughter fades and dies…’
Chippy Foreigners
‘DAVID Blunkett’s campaign to induct Johnny Foreigner into our weird and wonderful ways extends beyond compulsory English language tests for our former colonies.
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| A right arm’s worth of chips |
It’s also important that those seeking asylum in this green and flooded land get used to our diet.
And that’s why we’re disappointed to learn via this morning’s Star that asylum seekers in Ipswich have staged a mini-riot over the quality of the food they receive.
One refugee apparently complained: ‘The food here is terrible. We get chips every day and we have had enough.
‘We have to eat them because we do not get any other choice at lunchtime. Most of us don’t like chips and it is a big problem.’
Of course, the food is terrible – you’re in England now, pal.
If you want decent food, try France. If you want decent weather, try Spain. If you want decent looking women, try Italy.
How do you think our British women get their pasty complexions, not to mention their flabby physiques? By eating salads? By seeing the sun more than once a year?
‘If they want to live in the UK, they had better get used to chips as they are part of the national diet,’ an ‘onlooker’ (Star reporter) tells the Star.
‘And lots of people would give their right arm for free meals.’
Not a bad idea. Eh, Mr Blunkett?’
Text And The City
‘NO longer does David Beckham hanker after a plateful of chips in his adopted Spanish home.
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| Geoff was delighted with the results of the operation |
In the year since he joined Real Madrid, the England captain has developed an appreciation for all things Spanish – the food, the wine, the language, the women…
And the Star claims this morning that Becks has been up to his old tricks, bombarding a beautiful Spanish model with text messages.
Former bodyguard Delfin Fernandez says that Beckham took one look at sultry Blanca Romero at a party last year and said: ‘I want that woman.’
The allegations were described as ‘absolute rubbish’ by the Beckhams, while Blanca’s mum said her daughter was at the dinner party with her husband, while Beckham was with his wife.
However, Beckham does have an admirer from the Iberian peninsula.
Big Brother winner Nadia Almada says she would like to go on a date with Becks.
‘Victoria’s going to kill me, but I think David’s cute – if he keeps his mouth shut,’ the Portuguese transsexual tells the Sun.
‘If he smiles rather than saying hello to me, that’ll be fine. A kiss on the hand or something will do’
A dirty text message, perhaps ’
Faith, Hope And Charity
‘LIKE Nathan Jones, Anthea Turner has been gone too long.
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| ‘Celebrity Homewrecker? Yes, put me down…’ |
The former TV golden girl – the girl next door (to your soon-to-be-ex-husband) – has seen her career disintegrate after she ran off with chocolate-coated Grant Bovey.
So we are glad to read today in the Mirror that 44-year-old Anthea is keeping busy, so busy in fact that she hasn’t even got time for charidee work.
News is that the Douglas Macmillan hospice charity has sacked Anthea as a fundraiser after she failed to raise even enough money to buy a delicious Cadbury’s Snowflake bar.
The Mirror says hospice organisers were furious when Anthea pulled out of an important fundraising dinner last Christmas at which 200 guests had paid to hear her speak.
They later found out that she and Grant had jetted off to Dubai to film Celebrity Place In The Sun for Channel 4.
And the pattern was repeated on a number of subsequent occasions, as Anthea filmed shows such as Celebrity Homewrecker, When Husbands Turn Orange! and Flaking It.
Fundraising chief Karen Rose said: ‘We are very disappointed with Anthea.
‘When she agreed to become a patron, she knew the commitment it would bring and at first we thought she was really keen.
‘But she has pulled out of a number of events that have taken a great deal of time to set up and people have actually bought tickets to attend these events to see or hear Anthea.
‘We have tried to rearrange events to fit in with her schedule, but she has never come back to us with any alternative dates.’
The former Blue Peter presenter agreed last September to help bring in cash for the hospice in her home town of Stoke-on-Trent.
But she has now been replaced by Denise Leigh, the blind singer who won Channel 4’s Operatunity show last year, and local chinaware tycoon Lord Wedgewood.
Anthea is on a well-earned holiday at the moment and so was not available for comment.
But a spokesman said TV work ‘had to be her priority’ at the moment.
‘Anthea is a patron of a number of charities and does a lot of work for them,’ he said.
‘She cannot be expected to contact them, but if any requests for charity work come in and she can do them, she will try.’
How about this, then? Anorak will donate £1 to a charity of Anthea’s choice for every day that she does not appear on our TV screens…’
Shell Shock
‘ANTHEA Turner would do well to follow the lead of Big Brother’s Shell Jubin – not in showing off her nubbins to a horrified nation, but in turning her back on a life in showbiz.
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| Shell’s nubbins will not appear again until 2031 |
Yesterday, 23-year-old Shell did more for the cause of female emancipation that any number of Pankhurst sisters by getting her puppies out on Page 3.
But today the blonde art student (who has forgotten to put her top back on) announces that she is to cover up her curves for good and return to university.
‘The celebrity lifestyle isn’t for me,’ she tells the Sun, ‘although I have enjoyed the experience.
‘I’m returning to university as a postgraduate and will be buried back in my art books.’
The art world’s gain will ironically also be the art world’s loss – yesterday we learned that Page 3 is in fact ‘a modern art form’ which ‘tastefully pioneered the celebration of the female form’.
And the Mail this morning has reached back into the archives to recreate a famous shot of 1977.
It dresses former Page 3 girls Nina Carter and Jilly Johnson – both 52 – in high-cut leotards and silver boots as an homage to the famous shot of 27 years ago.
And, says the Mail, ‘time has been remarkably kind to the famous blondes’.
‘Recreating one of their most successful modelling shots,’ it says, ‘they look just as lithe and seductive as they did in 1977.’
We trust time will be as kind to Shell Jubin when in 2031 she is called on to recreate her famous Naked With A Lawnmower pose…’
Scream Too
‘THE theft of Edvard Munch’s masterpiece The Scream from a Norwegian museum would ordinarily be something of a tragedy for the art world.
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| ‘It’s Vanessa. And she’s naked…’ |
The painting was uninsured because it is literally priceless and there must be worries that it will never be seen in public again.
But fear not – the Sun, as ever, is on the case.
It has invited its readers to pick up their palettes and create a replacement for the iconic painting.
The paper will print the best ones and the very best one can be hung in Oslo’s Munch Museum where the original was once on display.
If budding painters are in need of inspiration, the Sun suggests they put themselves in Wayne Rooney’s shoes as he saw the front page of yesterday’s Sun.
One imagines that, far from screaming, the England and Everton striker would have been quite phlegmatic as he read the story of his various visits to a Liverpool brothel.
After all, the story had been in the Sunday Mirror the day before…’
Shell’s Nubbins
‘IT is clear that National Cleavage Week is well and truly over this Monday morning as Page 3 invites goofy Big Brother art student Shell Jubin to show off her nubbins.
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| Staci, 23, from Bromsgrove |
And such nubbins they are that the Sun cannot find a letter of the alphabet low enough to describe them.
But don’t think for a moment that it is filthy lucre that has persuaded the posh 23-year-old, who has recently graduated with a first class honours degree from Glasgow, to bare all.
Her motives are, of course, much more cerebral and much purer than that – it is all done in the name of art.
‘Those who sneer at Page 3 lack intelligence,’ says Shell. ‘It’s beautifully shot and tastefully pioneered the celebration of the female form.’
Those of us who didn’t graduate from Glasgow University with a first in art history might have been under the mistaken impression that the likes of Peter Paul Rubens pioneered the celebration of the female form some 400 years or more ago.
But what do we know? We didn’t get a first in art history from Glasgow University.
‘In many ways, it emancipated women, letting them exploit their assets, earn cash and keep control,’ continues our latter-day Sister Wendy. ‘I see it as a modern art form.’
As we’re sure do Michelle, Nikkala, Zoe and our other Page 3 works of art.
But Shell doesn’t intend to make a career out of stripping off for newspapers.
She says appearing on Page 3 has been ‘an honour’, but insists it’s a ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity’.
Unless, of course, the Star offers her a big fat cheque to share her, er, thoughts on art with its readers.’
Oarsome Phwoarsome
‘AS all the papers carry pictures of a tearful Paula Radcliffe on their front pages this morning, we at Anorak ask: ‘What does it take to win an Olympic gold’?
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| ‘Lucy Pinder’s what you need, if you want to be the best…’ |
What does it take to – in the words of the late Roy Castle – be the best, to beat the rest? Obviously, we know from Roy that dedication is what you need.
But what else was it that drove the men’s coxless four on in those last few metres to hold off the fast finishing Canadian quartet?
The answer, it appears, was Lucy Pinder.
The Star today reveals that the ‘oarsome’ 20-year-old was the secret weapon behind the success of Matthew Pinsent, James Cracknell et al.
Bournemouth’s finest met the four at Henley before they flew out to Athens and wished them ‘the bust of British’.
‘Then,’ says the Star, ‘she gave the boys a flash of her own lucky charms – her perfect 34FF boobs. And they certainly worked.’
They certainly did, as ‘a source close to the rowers’ explains.
‘Meeting Lucy was a golden opportunity for the guys before they flew to Athens. Her good luck charms certainly rubbed off on them.’
Just think how much faster the boys would have gone if it had been a coxed four and Lucy had been sitting in the back of the boat calling the strokes…’
A Noble Calling
‘EMMA Noble has been associated with a lot of successes in her 33 years on this earth – The Price Is Right, James Major, Crossroads…
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| ‘I used to be married to the Prime Minister’s son…get me out of here!’ |
So, it is little wonder that bosses of I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here! Are keen to get the former topless model on the next series.
And news in the Mirror is that Emma ‘is willing to give it a go as a bush babe’.
A source close to the former Mrs Major says she was approached to do the show last year, but turned it down.
‘Last year, she felt the time wasn’t right,’ the source says. ‘Mainly, she didn’t want to be away from her son for any length of time.
‘But she thinks the show is great fun and is really keen.’
What a difference a year and a failing career makes?
Emma’s agent says nothing has been confirmed and there is a way to go before final selection
But a source at the programme (which returns to our screens in November) says: ‘Emma is regarded as the perfect contestant.’
Desperate, happy to get her tits out, desperate…’
Unlucky In Love
‘EVEN by Walford standards, Ians unlucky with the ladies. Hes buried two wives, had one run out on him on his wedding day and even Janine would only sleep with him for money.
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| ‘I suppose a shag’s out of the question’ |
He thought his luck had changed though when Kate revealed that Walford new-comer Jane had the hots for him.
Kate decided to do a spot of match-making, which probably wasnt strictly out of the kindness of her heart having been the object of the odious Ians advances on more than one occasion, she thought that, like a teenager with a dose of herpes, the best thing to do was to pass him on to someone else.
Although Jane does actually seem to like Ian, she had to reject Ians advances because she has a terminally ill husband in a hospice. Of course she has! This is Walford, what else did Ian expect?
The course of true love isnt running smoothly for poor Sonia and Martin either at the moment. Living with Pauline (aka The Toxic Witch) means that they dont get a moment to themselves.
Sonia is desperate for them to get a place of their own. Were a newly-wed couple, we should be running around the ouse naked, she told Martin, who for some bizarre reason didnt run screaming and puking into the next room as I did.
Sonias plan to rent a flat was spoilt by Pauline, however, whos offered to buy her council house for the couple. Now you can stay here forever and ever, she said sounding more like Norman Bates mother with every episode.
Things are set to get even worse for Sonia in a couple of weeks when Martin ends up bedding a waitress on his belated stag do. Its no surprise that shes taken to her trumpet again.
Dens bedroom antics also continue to shock and sicken. First, he tried to win back Kate. Now Chrissies gone, we can give it another shot, he told a horrified Kate, who it seems has finally seen Den for the hideous old hide-bound lech that he is.
Dens always subscribed to the Mae West school of heartbreak, though – i.e. the best way to get over a lover is to get under another. The very next night, Den was seen picking up a one-night stand and taking her back to the house.
Your dads disgustin, Zoe told Dennis when she found a stray bra behind the sofa the next day if only she knew the half of it, eh?
Buoyed up by his cheap and nasty one-night stand, Den decided to teach Andy a lesson. Dens still under the misapprehension that its the mid-80s (not only with his dress sense) and that hes a big name gangster.
He decided to try to fleece Andy with a betting scam and hes enlisted Pat to help. Andy had given Pat a job in the bookies as he thought her loyal, dependable and stupid which are similar reasons why people keep dogs.
But even dogs can bite back and, when Andy refused to give Pat an advance on her wages, she agreed to help Den.
Dens scam involved Pat giving Den blank betting slips that had been signed and time stamped by her. Then all he had to do was write in the name of the winning horse after the race and collect his five thousand pound winnings.
Unfortunately for Den, Andy was quick to realise that Den was trying to scam him. No ones that calm when theyve won five grand, Andy sneered to Pat.
Not even someone whos as bad an actor as Den is.’
Posh’s Baby Riddle
”POSH SEES BABY DOC’ announces the Sun in huge letters, alongside – in smaller typeface: ‘Pregnancy No.3 riddle’.
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| Has Posh been messing around with Baby Doc? |
And this is a riddle that would have even Batman’s arch-enemy The Riddler scratching his head and frowning in puzzlement behind his sinister mask.
Has Posh been hallucinating following a spot of sun-stroke brought on by too much poolside ennui, and had nightmarish visions of a small baby with stethoscope and speculum?
Or has she been having a clandestine affair with ‘Baby Doc’ Duvalier, despotic son of dictator dad Papa Doc?
He left Haiti some years ago and is now living in exile in Paris, within easy walking distance of some of Europe’s poshest shops. One can see the attraction for a ladylike Victoria.
But no. It seems that the answer is more prosaic. She’s up the duff again, David’s the Dad, and we can expect a third wave of Beckham Baby madness soon, with the arrival of Bernebau, or Paella, or Zara, or Prada, or
Anyway good luck, and hope it looks like its Real dad.’
Tough On Crime?
‘THERE’S no pleasing the Daily Mail.
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| ‘The meter’s expired. Move in! Go, go, go!’ |
‘Call for back-up, lads, we’ve got a number plate with a wrong-colour screw,’ it sneers sarcastically across two pages.
Underneath, it shakes its head in disbelief at the ‘£20,000 case of the borrowed banana.’
Upon closer inspection, the cases do for once bear some relation to the headlines.
A Yorkshire lady’s car was surrounded by police officers after a traffic warden tipped them off about her illegal screw. She describes the incident as ‘bureaucracy gone mad’, and the Mail appears to agree.
Meanwhile, in Newcastle, a young man was jailed for burglary after nicking a banana from the kitchen of an Indian restaurant.
Lord Mackenzie, the Government’s advisor on crime, describes the sentence (a mere one day, which he was let off anyway because the thief had waited all day in court) as ‘way over the top’.
Is it just us, or is there some inconsistency here? How are young people ever going to learn respect for the law when even usually sane voices like the Mail are undermining the criminal justice system?
At best, it’s a case of mixed messages – zero tolerance one minute; bleeding-heart hand-wringing the next.
Let’s be clear. Either we are tough on crime or we are not. The present state of affairs is nothing less than political correctness gone mad.’
A Is For All
‘IT’S A-level time again, and the papers are full of pictures of good-looking young ladies who have spelt their names correctly at the top of the paper – or at least had a good shot at it – and are now off to Cambridge with a bag full of A* qualifications.
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| ‘Hey, dad. I can’t find the entrance” |
And let’s not forget young Nicky Blair, son of youthful Tony, who has won a place at Oxford to read modern history.
And what about Stockport County striker Mark Byrne, who has given up a life of booze, birds, drugs and football to go to university in Liverpool, where the prospectus will promise a life of, er, booze, birds, drugs, football, and maybe the occasional lecture about licence plates and bananas.
Good luck to all our students, who are busy realising Tony’s vision of world-class education in a world-class country in a world-class world.’
Type Caste
‘PLEASE excuse any disruption to our usually impeccable service, but as part of our drive to streamline, Anorak is now being produced in India.
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| Anorak Towers (Mumbai) |
From today, all the letters, death threats and underwear that arrive by the sackload at our office each day will be processed by Mr Tendulkar and his crack team.
So pardon us if our staff fail to know who Jordan is and resort to looking her up in an atlas.
Be patient while Sunita baulks at the idea of anyone insulting Lisa Riley, what with the sacredness of cows in her land.
Chortle politely when you learn that in some parts of the sub-continent ‘Kilroy-Silk’ is a colloquial term for a guru’s orange robes.
Indeed, think yourself lucky that you’re not ill and our team aren’t typing up your case notes.
As the Mail reports (‘Dear Dr, your patient’s had a bolony amputation’), patients are being placed at risk because some hospitals are having medical letters to be typed in India.
Such is the shortage of secretaries willing to work for £1 a day that jobs which should be going to British drones are being sent 5,000 miles away.
And mistakes are being made. The Association Of Medial Secretaries says it has noticed some errors.
The ‘bolony amputation’ of the Mail’s headline is revealed to be a below-knee amputation. The case of ‘cute angina’ is, naturally, acute angina.
The repeat prescription for ‘Lanzarote’ is lansoprazole. An Eustachian tube malfunction became – all too believably – ‘Euston station tube malfunction’.
A patient with a troublesome libido, having difficulties with his erection, was being worried by his ‘direction’.
But the pick of the bunch was the case of phlebitis to a patient’s left leg which, once transcribed, became ‘flea bite his left leg’.
But before we climb on our soap boxes and scream how wrong this all is, we should consider that the typists of India are working from tapes dictated by consultants, who speak into voice recorders.
The typing might be flawed, but what of the doctors’ diction? If their voices are anything like their handwriting, we recommend a strong dose of elocution lessons all round.
Or should that say electrocution?’
Pinch Di-ane Inch
”Q: WHAT weighs 19 stone, exercises rarely and snacks on crisps and fizzy drinks?’
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| Give her a yard… |
That’s the Mail’s headline question. And our call centre in Delhi has already received some curious answers from our readers.
No, it’s not Vanessa Feltz. No, it’s not the new baby elephant at London zoo. And no, it’s not the combined weight of La Famiglia Blair.
The answer is…well, let’s allow the Mail to complete what it began. ‘A: Your friendly council healthy living advisor.’
For the record, she goes by the name of Diane Inch. And a picture of the Liberal Democrat councillor for the Cheshire borough of Halton can be seen in all the papers.
In the Express, Mrs Inch even holds up a plate of fruit, ostensibly to support her drive to improve her parish’s eating habits, but, more likely, she’s just trying offload the monkey grub on someone else, while she uses her chubby paws to stuff a Mars bar in…sideways.
And while Diane’s jaws are glued together on a mixture of glucose and nougart, don’t you start having a go, because she says her own bulk is the result of ‘modern living’.
As she tells the Express: ‘My weight problem is down to a lack of exercise. I just don’t have the time.
‘I know I am a prime example of the country’s disturbing rise in the rate of obesity but my weight problem is a question of lifestyle and not the result of bad eating.’
Of course it is.
Only, a few moments on and poor Diane, a victim of our times, tells us: ‘Nowadays, they [children] often choose the quick-fix of chips and a can of coke. We have all done it. I am the worst culprit.’
She goes on: ‘I will be thinking of ways to make exercise and healthy eating fun and the way I look should have nothing to do with it.’
So let’s leave her girth out of it, and allow her to get on with her job of telling others what they should be like.
And if she needs to mull matters over with the aid of a few pies and a gallon of Vimto, let her. We’ll all feel the benefits soon enough…’
It Ain’t ‘Alf Hot, Mum
‘IF an army truly does march on its stomach, British Tommies munching through their new Operational Ration Packs might be soon doing the Delhi Two-Step.
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| ‘Who’s up for some turkey vindaloo?’ |
The Sun (‘Curry On, Sarge’) has seen that old favourites like corned beef hash, beef casseroles with dumplings and bully beef are out.
The new dishes include chicken balti, chicken madras, curried lamb and chilli with rice.
As the Mail reports, these new menus came to the fore after troops returning from stints in Afghanistan and Iraq asked for spicier food.
Major Andy Main, who researched the new dishes for the Defence Catering Group, says: ‘We did not want to make them too strong, because if troops are fighting they cannot be running to the loo every five minutes.’
Although, a powerful curry would at least give them something dangerous to shoot at the enemy, what with those famous non-firing guns, and all…’
Sun, Sand & C-Cups
‘IT’S the midpoint in National Cleavage Week, and the Sun has been taking in the sights in Weston Super Mare.
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| Jordan’s breasts got in the way of her reading |
Of course, what this being the Sun, it’s renamed the town ‘WESTON-SUPER-PAIR’ and invited a few locals to forget the rain, the icy winds and the invasive sand to show readers what they’re made of.
And these girls come from all over. ‘Patriotic’ Jody Cox is a local girl in a union flag bikini, but Amy Millington hails from Walsall and Lucy Gregson travelled down from Blackpool to show us her cleavage.
And who can blame them for making the trip when an appearance on Page 3 can change your life.
Just listen to Krystal, 21, from Manchester as she urges the nation’s young, bored and busty to give it a go.
‘Winning Page 3 Idol changed my life,’ says Krystal. ‘I was just a student, but now people ask for my autograph.’
But the girls of Weston, Torquay and Bournemouth can reach higher than just signing their name on a holidaymaker’s snorkel.
The Star has news that the biggest cleavage of them all is ready to give it up.
Jordan will carry on, but she plans to retire her cleavage to a museum and have her breasts deflated in an effort to be taken more seriously.
But her 34FF top has yet to become a C or D cup, and the paper wants its readers to help Jordan decide what she should do via a phone vote.
But before you dial, listen to what Jordan’s friend has to say.
‘Kate is deadly serious about becoming more respectable,’ says she. ‘She feels that her oversized breasts are the things holding her back from changing her public image.’
Problem is that they are her public image. And it may be that it’s the cleavage and not the girl behind it that goes on to better and bigger things…’
Prince Pushy
‘THE arts world might be all the poorer for it, but the arrival of Lady Louise Windsor has been good for Prince Eddie.
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| ‘And through the round window…’ |
Sure, he’s not making cutting-edge films about granny and the family’s castles any more, but that’s because he’s busy being a terrific dad.
Even we TV addicts – who during Eddie’s paternal leave from the magic box are reduced to getting by on a diet of American imports and soaps – are forced to admit that he’s as good at being a dad as he is at programme making.
And there he is in the Mail, pushing the lovely Lady Louise along in her buggy during a walk on Mummy’s Balmoral Estate.
In the Mail’s eyes, this makes Eddie ‘very much the modern hands-on father’.
Although we should say that if that were true, he’d most likely have taken the nanny, who accompanied Eddie and Louise on their walk, for a private stroll into the bushes.
But Eddie’s a one-woman man. And in case any of us have forgotten what she looks like, the Mail also has a shot of the hard-working Sophie, Countess of Wessex.
But more important than mum and dad is Louise’s pram, which serves to epitomise the Wessexes’ break with fusty traditions.
They’ve ignored the Silver Cross pram, the mainstay of the Royal nanny, in favour of a ‘trendy three-wheel, all-terrain buggy’ – the Robin Reliant of the buggy world.
There is no end to this whacky couple’s originality. And the mind boggles at what they will do next.
Their unpredictability renders guessing useless and we will just have to wait and see.
Who knows, one day Eddie may take a breather and give his fans what we really want – a made-for-TV film about his Louise and what it’s like being a dad in today’s fast-paced world…’
Como Over
‘WE’VE been updating our archive in the Anorak Towers chill-out room.
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| Diddy swears us to silence about his Johnny Halliday collection |
The new young buck in the marketing department has been critical of our collection of Perry Como classics and Dean Martin croons.
So we went out to get some new material. But what to buy?
Helpfully, the papers are full of the latest pop news, like the Sun’s story on Libertines frontman Pete Doherty.
Apparently, Pete is a bad lad, who has been in trouble with drugs and now faces a possible jail sentence after admitting in court that he was in possession of a flick knife when his vehicle was searched by police.
And the Star has a tale of the American entertainer P Diddy.
The story goes that, when his yacht was raided by a bunch of armed security guards, hard-man Diddy legged it wearing only a pair of stars-and-stripes boxer shorts and a fur coat.
Armed with this knowledge, we popped down to the local music shop and asked for the latest from Pete Doherty and for a collection of P Diddy’s greatest hits.
Imagine our surprise when the shop assistant told us that no such recordings existed. But he did recommend a new easy listening compilation called Summer Moods. You should try it…’
Who’s The Daddy?
‘THE crèche at No.10 is getting ready for a new arrival to play with Leo Blair and John Brown.
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| ‘We’re up shit’s creek and look who’s got the paddle’ |
Having learnt earlier in the week that Home Secretary David Blunkett’s Tory credentials don’t just end with his hard line stance on law and order, we now hear that his married lover is with child.
The Mirror puts this joyous news on its front page, saying that Kimberley Fortier is seven months pregnant and that Blunkett will stand by her.
The only thing we don’t hear is whether or not the baby is Blunkett’s or that of the cuckolded husband.
But no matter, because in the Mirror Mr Fortier (or whatever his name might be) has been airbrushed from the story.
Blunkett is not a love cheat with lax morals, a man with a ‘high and mighty moralistic tone’ (Mail) who has been exposed as a scoundrel, but a simple soul who vows to ‘love her to the end’.
Your opinion on Blunkett’s affair has lots to do with your politics, it would seem.
But while we debate Blunkett, there can no longer be any denying the fact that his Cabinet colleague John Prescott is a real-life hero.
What we at Anorak have known for some time even the Mail (‘Prezza: The Making Of A Hero’) now acknowledges, as the papers relate the story of how Prezza has saved the life of an injured canoeist.
Overlook for a moment the fact that because of a diabolical transport infrastructure Graham Cook felt impelled to paddle to work, and just know that, when things went wrong, Prezza was there in a flash.
On a visit to the National Whitewater Centre in Snowdonia, Wales, Prescott saw Cook’s kayak collide with an inflatable raft.
‘While we were standing there, this canoe went over and this fella fell out and gashed his forehead,’ says the Deputy PM to the Express.
‘He was trying to get to the bank when one of the rafts landed on him.
‘He got to the quay and one of my Special Branch guys ran over and grabbed hold of one side and we pulled him ashore…I mopped the blood from his face and let him rest for a few minutes.’
Blessedly, Prezza and his unnamed bodyguard had saved the day and the stricken commuter was soon up on his feet.
Now all Prezza has to do is deliver the Blunkett baby without anyone noticing, and everything will be right with the world…’
Lynam Up
‘BEFORE women of a certain age went weak at the knees for David Blunkett, there was Des Lynam.
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| ‘And as for that Mother bloody Teresa!’ |
The man the Star calls the ‘housewives’ pin-up’ – and who we have for the past ten seasons called Mr Comfi-Slax – has made millions of women dream of what might have been had their husbands grown a moustache.
But no more is Des the lounge lizard smoothy – today he reveals an altogether more ruthless side to his character.
Put it down to age, put it down to his fading allure or put it down to bitterness, but Des is in the Mirror sounding less like Leslie Phillips and more like Victor Meldrew.
He says that adverts on ITV ‘cramped his style’, and that his high-profile transfer from the BBC to its main competitors at ITV made him feel ‘wobbly’.
Fair enough. And we understand Des’s reasons for deciding no longer to commentate on football – ‘If you’re talking about athletic young people, it’s inappropriate to get too old doing it, in my view.’
But something has changed in Des, the eyes are more narrowed, the lips more pursed, the moustache more bristling with indignation.
And it’s all down to Simon Cowell.
‘I’d like to punch that geek,’ says Des. ‘He almost wants to be punched. He’s earning millions out of people wanting to punch him, but I’ll be first in the queue.’
Steady on, Des. Even a fit and feisty sixty-something like you doesn’t want to get overexcited at your time of life. Take it easy…
Ooer. Too late, and now Des is off, he’s got another target in his sights – Alastair Campbell.
‘Who the hell was he?’ asks Des, seeming to have lost his train of thought for a second. ‘A sidekick of the Prime Minister.’
Yes, he was. Spot on, Des.
And then comes something we thought we’d never live to hear. When talking about the former BBC director general Greg Dyke, who accused Lynam of losing his touch, Des utters an expletive.
‘He thought I was uninterested and I wasn’t doing it as well as I used to, and that was bollocks – I was doing it as well as ever’
No, make it stop! Listening to Des is the equivalent of seeing your grandparents having sex. It’s all too much to take.
But before he goes, Des wants to leave us with one last thought. ‘In case you’re wondering,’ says he, ‘I have a perfectly normal upper lip.’
Enough! That really is too much information…’
The Portuguese Almada
‘HERE’S the headline of the day: ‘Nadia: Why I Had It Off.’
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| ‘Just think of all that cowpie’ |
In a couple of months’ time, a large part of you will scratch your heads and wonder who this Nadia is and what it was about the Sun’s headline that made us smile.
But for now, know that Nadia is Nadia Almada, the latest Big Brother winner, and what she had off was her manhood.
Today is Nadia’s first interview as reality TV’s champion of the moment.
It’s not actually with the Sun, but with Heat magazine – what with budgets and all that, the paper that deems Nadia worthy of its front page has simply taken a look at the showbiz periodical and snipped off the best bits for our pleasure.
Nadia tells us that she has always fancied men. We learn that when she became a woman she felt ‘beautiful’. And we read that since she first painted her nails at aged five, she knew she was different.
We also learn that when she started to dress as a woman – after moving to Brighton – she began to send her mother pictures of herself in dresses and high heels.
‘Apparently,’ says Nadia, ‘I look very much like my auntie, my dad’s sister.’
Of course, she means Uncle Alfonso, but we take her point and even wince in sympathy when we hear about her post-change pain and the ‘big nappy thing’ she awoke to find strapped to her groin.
She’s suffered has our Nadia. But she’s tough. She’s got what the Spanish call cojones. Just like her auntie…’
Derek The Dope
‘THERE must be something in the water down Walford way – rather like the town of Stepford, where all the women who move there undergo complete personality changes.
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| ‘Fancy a quickie?’ |
Unlike in Stepford, however, where these changes are brought about by wicked husbands, in Walford its due to lazy scriptwriting and badly thought out storylines.
Weve already had to swallow Jim turning from Bernard Manning in a flat cap into an advert for the United Colours of Benneton where his best friend is now a black man and another of his friends is gay.
Now its Paul and Dennis turn to be transformed from gamblers, thieves and murders into would-be Mother Teresas helping the sick and the poor.
Dennis has, bizarrely, become Dots mentor as she goes through her cancer ordeal. Well get through this together, he told her. Im always here for you. This from the man whos murdered someone and collects money with menaces for a living.
Paul has put his gambling, hard-drinking, feckless ways behind him and is now giving free basketball coaching to underprivileged kids. Fortunately for viewers, though, Paul is about as effective a coach as many in the British Olympics squad.
Hes now in trouble for letting his teenage protégé smoke dope in the community centre. Derek caught them at it but decided not to call the police with a conviction for dope himself, he thought it best to let sleeping stoners lie.
Unluckily, Ians children Lucy and Peter had seen the boys and, as is always the way with all soap children, the precious drama school brats insisted on telling their father. Ian stormed round to Pauls to give him a piece of his mind, generous considering he doesnt have much to spare.
My kids could have been killed, he ranted, Youll have them on heroin next. Im calling the police.
Patrick and Yolande are devastated, as they fear that this will put paid to their chances of being considered suitable foster parents. I dont know, surely the ability to provide a reliable drugs source is what most teenagers would die for.
Ians new friend Jane is trying to persuade him not to call the police. She and Kate popped round to help Ian move into the Ferrairas old house. It didnt take Kate long to realise that Jane was interested in more than just buttering Ians baps in the caff.
Later this week Kate tries to get the couple together, unaware that, although Jane does actually like Ian, shes got a secret husband whos got a terminal illness.
Why this should be a surprise to Kate, I dont know. The womans moved to Walford, so of course she or someone close to her is going to have a terminal illness. Youd think Kate would have learnt by now.’
Home (Wrecker) Secretary
‘IF you walk like a Tory, talk like a Tory and attract unwanted headlines about your private life like a Tory, chances are you are a Tory.
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| Who’s getting their end away? |
But if you put money on today’s headline maker being a true blue, you’d lose.
The Home Secretary, the man with the hard line on law and order who has been having an illicit love affair with a married mother-of-one, is as new Labour as they come.
Which is more than can be said for Kimberly Fortier, the 43-year-old brunette ‘beauty’ who’s been seeing David Blunkett for the past three years.
As the Sun reports, she’s the publisher of the Conservative-supporting magazine, the Spectator.
She’s also married, and, as the story goes, now unwilling to leave her husband for her lover.
And that’s a sad thing, because somewhere beneath all that unyielding Sheffield steel exterior beats the heart of a man suffering no little heartache.
And if you don’t believe us, look at the Mirror’s front page, where its readers have it confirmed in the headline, ‘BLUNKETT’S HEARTACHE’.
It seems the stress of being ‘deeply in love’ has taken a heavy toll on the Home Secretary.
He’s apparently refusing to comment on the story, preferring to let the Mirror come out with headlines like ‘LOVE SICK’ and spots about how his first love, Ruth Mitchell, from whom he split after 18 years together in 1988, ‘taught [the] blind boy to kiss’.
We’d shed a tear if only we hadn’t been so hardened by years of Tory sleaze, and cannot help but see Blunkett as a ‘love cheat’ a ‘rat’ and someone ‘caught with his pants down’.
But before the mood turns and ‘Blunkett’s True Love’ (Sun) turns to tabloid sensation, we learn in the Sun that, when Kimberley and Blunkett met, she tried to convince him that she was tall and blonde.
She’s not – she’s brunette, and, judging by the pictures of her, not overly tall.
And this makes us wonder what else she told our man who dared to love too much? That she was a poor Angolan asylum seeker in need of comfort and some cash?
And who but a man of granite could fail to fall for a sob story like that…’
