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.
Having Kitten’s
”BIG Brother reject Kitten Pinder launched a ferocious attack on Tony Blair yesterday as she appeared in court,’ writes the Mirror.
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| The other Miss Pinder |
And the words make us wonder. 1) What was the nature of this attack? 2) What was Tony Blair doing in court? 3) Is Kitten, real name Kathryn, any relation to the lovely and bounteous Lucy Pinder, toast of the Star?
Our team of researchers are investigating questions 2 and 3 and, until we know for sure, rumours that Kitten is Lucy’s evil twin and that Tony Blair was in court on a charge of being a public nuisance remain unproven.
What is for certain is that Kitten was in the dock and her attack on Tony Blair was all too real.
Appearing before the beak, one Elspeth Clarkson, in a Brighton court for failing to pay four parking fines to the tune of £225, Kitten, dressed in jeans, trainers and an anti-capitalist T-shit with the words ‘NO SWEAT’ daubed on the front, tried to explain all.
‘I haven’t enough money,’ she pleaded. ‘I left university with £15,000 of student loans thanks to Mr Blair.’
She then moved in for more. ‘Tony Blair actually said at one point he was going to prioritise education and bring back grants and stuff. Now he has introduced top-up fees.’
At which juncture Mrs Clarkson interjected. ‘I will have to ask you to stop there because it’s not of relevance to your case,’ she said.
‘I think it is,’ replied Kitten. ‘No it is not,’ retorted Clarkson.’ And there the matter lay.
As a result, Kitten must pay the fine within six weeks, or else feel the full weight of the law on her chippy shoulders.
Which could, should she protest long and loud enough, lead to her being locked up in the ‘Big House’ with a load of strangers while cameras track her every move.
And so long as we’re not expected to watch, that’s fine by us…’
Suffer, Little Children
‘NOT only are we what we eat (fat, fat, salt, fat and sugar), but we are what we watch, too.
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| ‘What you lookin’ at?’ |
That’s the opinion of the great Margaret Hodge, the Children’s Minister, who is upset at how young people are portrayed on our TV screens.
The Mail, which dubs Hodge ‘nanny’, hears the minister say that children don’t like being portrayed as tearaways, and a new Children’s Commissioner would have powers to investigate the issue.
‘If we had a Children’s Commissioner today they could look at children’s obesity, the way children are portrayed in the media and issues around children’s constant demands for somewhere to go and something to do.’
But while we wonder what it is that Ms Hodge actually does, and why we need a new public servant to watch children on telly, the woman ploughs on.
‘When I talk to young people,’ says she, ‘they always talk to me about how they are always seen as yobs like the one in EastEnders – Martin – that’s the typical portrayal of a young person.’
‘They all say ‘we’re not like that – why don’t they portray us properly?”
They ‘all’ say it? This would suggest that the role of Children’s Commissioner is even easier than first imagined since children all seem to be watching TV.
Or discussing Martin’s antics with La Hodge…’
Trouble And Strife
‘VICTORIA Beckham has no desire to be the centre of attention.
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| ‘I want to be alone’ |
That is a bald statement of fact. It stands beyond dispute. But to avoid any misinterpretation of even this most simple truth, a source close to the reclusive singer is impelled to tell the Sun: ‘Victoria wants privacy in Portugal.’
‘She feels she’ll be the centre of attention if she stays with all the other wives and girlfriends,’ the source adds, ‘and hates the idea that everyone will be staring at her.’
Those other women are not parts of nice Mr Beckham’s travelling harem – the flight from his Madrid pad to Portugal is a short one, but the other women who will gawp at her Poshness are actually wives and girlfriends belonging to his England teammates.
So while the players, their spouses and their lovers stay at the down-at-heel five-star Penha Longa golf course near Lisbon, Posh will be hiding out in a rented villa.
And there, Posh can be ignored in considerable luxury. Not for her No.1 hit songs and a coruscating pop career in the limelight, just a quiet life with her children.
So we won’t hear another word said about this intensely private woman. Well, for about two seconds we won’t, because the unnamed Posh insider has a few more words to the wise.
‘Victoria is obviously the ultimate Footballer’s Wife,’ says the source, ‘but she doesn’t want to be part of that bitchy scene.
‘She doesn’t really mix with all the other wives because she’s so paranoid about security and about people gossiping about her and David.’
Not that David’s staying with her, since he’s in the hotel with all those other bitchy footballers’ wives. But to talk about what he’ll get up to there would constitute gossip.
And if there’s one thing Posh can’t stand, it’s people talking about her behind her back. Why, it’s an invasion of her hard-fought privacy…’
Heaven Scent
‘FOR years men have been invited to splash it all over, to surf into a hot date on a wave of spicy scent.
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| Has he not fragrance? |
Real men wear such-and-such a perfume. The combination of leather and badger musk is guaranteed to keep you smelling great – even after a Vindaloo with the lads, ten pints of enlivening lager and a sweaty rendition of Hi Ho Silver Lining at the local nightclub.
But such a lifestyle of hedonistic excess is not for all men. And so it is that the Express brings news of a new scent on the market: ‘Eau de Cliff.’
The man smelling of mistletoe and wine, old churches and rock ‘n’ roll is Sir Cliff Richard, whose new range of toiletries comes to us under the name Miss You Nights.
Alongside the eau de perfume and body lotion, those who want to smell like Cliff can scrub up in a shower gel and soap.
Cliff explains all. ‘I had the idea to create a perfume for you,’ says Cliff to his legion of fans, ‘when I saw the pleasure it gave my sisters when I gave them perfume for their birthdays or Christmas and I wanted to do the same for my extended family.
‘So I chose a romantic, warm oriental scent, just right for winter evenings and those special occasions.’
And sales are expected to be buoyant – although, given the age and disposition of many of Cliff’s fans, it’s a surprise his range doesn’t include a rich and sensual embalming fluid.’
The Morning After Pill
‘WHILE the Mail goes crazy for jeans that can rid women of cellulite just by their wearing, we at Anorak Towers are inexplicably drawn towards another story of scientific genius.
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| ‘And a bottle of pills please, barmaid!’ |
The Sun says that today is the day when we wave goodbye to the hangover.
We may also like to flip it the finger and issue a threat that, if it ever returns, it’ll be so much the worse for it.
But the hangover would not dare to return, not even after a night of crème de menthe tasting. And, to thank for this, we have the RU-21 pill.
The tablet that prevents the morning after the night before needs to be taken after each drink.
Devised by KGB scientists to extract secrets from their foe during drinking sessions, the pill works by blocking the body’s production of acetaldehyde, so reducing the risk of a hangover.
However, the great news for drinkers is that the pill will not stop you feeling drunk or vomiting.
Nor will it stop you from hugging strangers, fighting with lampposts, smashing up parts of Portugal and singing Summer Holiday at the top of your lungs in a Mediterranean jail.
Or fancying Victoria Beckham…’
Pan Handler
‘REVENGE is a dish best served cold.
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| The culprit is believed to have adopted a particularly horrible disguise |
And if you’re trainee chef Edwina Currie, it’s best prepared in a selection of copper pots and pans of the type favoured by celebrity cook Gordon Ramsay.
And that’s lucky since as a memento of her time in TV’s Hell’s Kitchen, the Sun hears the former Tory minister admit to walking off with a selection of kitchen goods.
‘Al and I had a quick natter,’ says Edwina, taking care to implicate fellow wannabe cook Al Murray in her plan, ‘and said, ‘If you were taking one thing out of Hell’s Kitchen what would you take?’
‘I said, ‘Well, I’ll take some copper pans’ and that’s what I arrived home with.’
And that makes Currie a villain – which is no surprise to those of us who read in the Mail that, of all the social groups, the middle classes (of which Currie is undeniably a member) are the most prone to lawbreaking.
‘Britain is in the grip of a £14bn crimewave,’ thunders the Mail. ‘But it’s not murderers, rapists, muggers and burglars we have to fear.’
It isn’t? Then who is it? Gypsies? Black men in cars? Foreigners? Magpies?
No, dear reader, the scourge of the decent are those dastardly middle classes, people like the light-fingered Currie.
Researchers for TV Licensing questioned 2,000 people divided evenly across the social classes as to what so-called petty crimes they had engaged in.
The list of misdemeanours for consideration was: not paying road tax, not buying a TV licence, damaging goods and retuning them to a shop for a refund, wrongly parking in a disabled bay, fare-dodging, paying cash-in-hand to avoid tax and pocketing cash when given too much change by a shop worker.
And so to the results… But, hold on! The Mail says the survey was ‘fatally flawed’. Which means it spends nearly as much time trying to undermine the revelations about those nefarious middle classes (i.e. Mail readers) as it does on the main story.
The Mirror, though, has no such qualms, and says that the worst offenders are professional people, of whom 64% admitted to breaking one thing from the list, compared to 43% from lower incomes.
And the evidence is everywhere, with the paper reminding us of Cherie Blair’s fare dodging (a crime for which she was fined £10), David Beckham’s failure to renew his tax disc and now Edwina Currie’s pan caper.
The middle classes have been caught bang to rights. The authorities have been alerted and Currie and her cronies had best flee while the going’s good.
Hanging really is too good for them…’
Driven To Distraction
‘THANKS to the TV Licensing survey into criminality, we now know that the face of modern crime has a blonde bob, drives a 4×4 and operates children called Jake and Molly.
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| ‘Three points on your licence…’ |
The middle classes’ reputation for lawbreaking is all too believable, although the Mail is struggling come to terms with the truth.
So the paper has had a think about the nature of other modern offences not listed in the TV Licensing survey. And it’s found what it believes to be a winner.
Few who have stepped beyond their front doors can have failed to have noticed the number of cars carrying little plastic Cross of St George flags.
The nationalistic fervour triggered by England’s participation in the 2004 European football championships has led to around a million of the little flags being sold and waved.
And news is that each and every car-flag flutterer could be breaking the law – flying the flag may put you in breach of road safety regulations.
To the Mail, whose middle class readership survives on a diet of golf and rugby union, this is terrific news.
Such flag waving is the mainstay of the lower orders (see the Star’s poster of Lucy Pinder in a patriotic England bikini), and criminalizing them would restore the natural order.
So now learn that under the Road & Traffic Act of 1998, drivers who obscure the windows of their vehicles are liable for a £2,500 fine or three penalty points.
If the football fans must have their flags, they should tie them to their jeep’s bullbars, like any normal and upstanding Mail reader…’
Geordie Slapper
‘WHILE Scandinavians need to watch at least four hours of pornography a night to summon the vim to copulate, we Brits need only the merest whiff of knicker elastic.
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| ‘Ooops! My top’s fallen down again’ |
We like our sex low-key and behind net curtains. And since Big Brother is loud and played out under brilliant, eye-blistering neon, we as a nation are not really bothered if any of the housemates have sex or not.
Which is why Michelle Bass, the would-be topless glamour mo-del and self-confessed porn lover, is called a slapper in the Star, a paper expert in such matters.
In fact, so much of a slapper is the Geordie lass that her ‘disgusted’ family wants her to leave the house to stop her ‘giving Geordie slappers a bad name’.
A neighbour of Michelle’s parents, Lorraine and Peter, is just as upset.
‘She’s acting up and pretending to be a daft Geordie slapper and it really isn’t doing her any good,’ says he. ‘She’s an insult to Geordie slappers.’
That is some insult. And it’s one that had led to Michelle’s granny, 78-year-old Doris, being so upset that she’s now on a respirator.
If Michelle leaves, Big Brother might not get its first ever live shag, but it might be responsible for its first ever demise.
And we don’t mean the death of TV…’
J-Lo Day
‘WE’D been here before, of course, but this promised to be the last time the old faces would assemble in such numbers.
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| ‘Age shall not weary him nor the years condemn…’ |
It might just be possible to stage such a show again, but whatever lies in the future it can be nothing like as grand as the weekend’s re-enactment of past campaigns.
So let’s take a moment to remember theose who came before, and look to the Express’s tribute to the fallen.
We salute you Walter Ojani Noa. When you married Jennifer Lopez in 1999, it was meant to be for keeps. Who could have known?
And you too Cris Judd, the man with the missing ‘h’, who later became the ‘usband with the missing wife when Jennifer sounded the Last Post on your marriage.
Others never even made it that far, and the Express recalls the names of Puff Daddy and Ben Affleck, who both foundered on the beaches of J-Lo’s love.
But the weekend was not just about the past; it was also about the future. And so it was that Marc Anthony became the third Mr Lopez in a ceremony at his new wife’s Beverly Hills mansion.
The Mail heard ‘cheers and applause’ as La Lopez strode across the lawn clad in her traditional uniform of white wedding gown and veil, while a string quartet from the diva’s own corps of music performed Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and other marching songs.
A brief ceremony done with and the couple and their guests were whisked into a big white marquee for some big band music from all our yesterdays.’
Hell’s Belle
‘CHEF’S arse’ is a nasty condition that can best be prevented by stuffing an entire toilet roll (intact) down the back of the cook’s trousers (or into Jamie Oliver’s mouth).
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| If you can’t stand the heat, get out of your clothes |
And do not doubt that it works, for no less a chef than Jennifer Ellison is keen to show off her clean and untainted backside as she poses for the Star in various pairs of chef’s knickers.
While we wait for the advert in which Jennifer promises that you too can have an arse like a chef, the winner of TV’s Hell’s Kitchen turns up the heat in the Sun.
‘I can’t believe it!’ says the former Brookside actress. ‘I genuinely did not expect to win – I couldn’t even boil an egg. This is one of the best things I’ve done in my life.’
We’ve seen Brookside and can confirm that this is clearly the best thing Jen has ever done on TV by some margin.
So good was it that that three Michelin-starred chef’s arse Gordon Ramsay has, the Mirror says, offered Jen a job at one of his London restaurants.
But Jen is aware of how critical people can be, especially when a star crosses over from one profession to another.
As she tells the Star: ‘People in Britain are ready to knock anyone who tries to move from acting to singing or the other way.’
Quite so. But few have made the leap from acting to singing to the kitchen.
And it may be that Jen’s chef’s arse proves to be a hit and saves her career from going down the toilet – or pan, as TV chefs call it.’
Tory Wives
‘BEFORE Jennifer Ellison rid the world of chef’s arse, women suffered terribly.
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| True blue |
To see how bad things got, researchers into such matters were invited to log onto www.pantopia.biz and buy pairs of worn G-strings and body stockings.
But thanks to Jen, women’s G-stings, panties, call them what you will, are now as fresh at the end of the week as they were on the day they first left the wrapper.
And Jen’s timing has been impeccable since the Pantopia site has just been closed down after it emerged that a women modelling a pair of briefs on its pages was the wife of Jonathan Cunningham, a prospective Tory councillor for Worcester city.
The Sun has one shot of the lovely Mrs Darlene Cunningham posing topless in an advert for the site her husband set up; and another picture of Mr Cunningham posing for the snappers with Tory leader Michael Howard.
The caption beneath the shot of Cunningham and his political master reads: ‘Cunningham with Conservative leader Howard in Worcester.’
The legend under the shot of Darlene is more thorough. ‘I love sharing personal items. I really do get off on my sexual openness.
‘All the girls including my horny, sexy self are real amateurs that get their sexual kicks from getting their t***s out.’
But the two parts of Cunningham’s life are very much separate, as his local Tory chairman Barry MacKenzie-Williams explains. ‘He [Cunningham] finds this acutely embarrassing but it has nothing to do with his political views.’
Or those of his wife…’
Absolute Insania
‘IT appears that Jordan’s brief stint playing her alter ego, demure little Katie Price, is well and truly over.
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| Advertising space to rent |
The top-heavy glamour model was back to her best on Wednesday night as she turned up at the London hotspot Chinawhite with boobs spilling out of skimpy top and bottom spilling out of tiny hot pants.
And still she was upstaged by fellow slapper Jodie Marsh, who appeared at last night’s FHM 100 Sexiest Women Awards wearing just a belt and braces.
‘And true to form,’ reports the Sun, ‘neither girl could resist flashing her shapely bum for the cameras.’
If Jordan’s breasts are her prime marketing tool, her bum is advertising space for hire – and this week it was used to promote boyfriend Peter Andre’s new single, Insania.
But where was Peter? Nowhere to be seen, says the Mirror, which reports that Jordan spent the whole night chatting to a tall, dark and handsome stranger.
‘She seemed to be really enjoying his company,’ a clubber told the paper. ‘He was introduced to Jordan by a friend and they then spent a large part of the night very close together.
‘Jordan had her arms round him and was whispering in his ear and giggling.’
Leaving aside the question of how Jordan could get near enough anyone to put her arms round them, we probe further and get the distinct impression that all’s not well in the land of Insania.
‘I only speak to him by phone really these days,’ Jordan says of her pint-sized boyfriend, ‘because we are both working non-stop.’
In fact, so hard have the two of them been working that – by Jordan’s own admission – they haven’t even slept together. Or kissed. Or met…
An awful thought, like Lee Chapman’s right fist, suddenly hits us square between the eyes – maybe the relationship is not be the beautiful romance we had always assumed but a tawdry PR stunt cobbled together by a pair of desperadoes.
If not true love, what can we believe in? Victoria Beckham’s singing? David Beckham’s fidelity? George Bush’s ability to put up an umbrella? The truth is too awful to contemplate.
Say it ain’t so, Jo(rdan)…’
The Fix Is In
”IS Big Brother fixed?’ We’re sorry even to have to ask this question, but with our illusions recently shattered we no longer know what is true and what is not.
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| Michelle gets to grips with the Invisible Woman |
And we’re not the only one – the Mirror also wants to know the answer to the question after it emerged that two of the show’s 12 contestants are friends in real life.
The paper says Kitten and Daniel grew up in the same area of Hull and even went to the same school as each other, becoming friends in 2002 after meeting at a local club.
A spokesman for the show said they were aware that the two were vague acquaintances, adding: ‘We can’t guarantee every person in the house does not know each other.’
Of course, choosing people who went to different schools and even grew up in different parts of the country is a pretty good start.
The Mirror insists the 12 contestants are supposed to be strangers and says the secret friendship ‘could blow the show apart’.
If Tony Blair can survive the absence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, we suspect Big Brother will survive this little indiscretion.
Especially if it keeps on serving up generous helpings of girl-on-girl kissing for the readers of the Sun and Star.
The Sun gives pride of place to Vanessa licking Nutella chocolate spread from Emma’s tongue, but Emma was also caught on camera giving Kitten a little kiss.
And to make it a gay threesome, hairdresser Daniel got in on the act by giving balding beefcake Jason ‘a full-bloodied smacker’.
All of which gets the Sun very excited, prompting it to offer odds of 4-1 on the two men getting it together – the same odds as on heterosexual couple Stuart and Shell.
Alternatively, you can take the 4-6 offered by Anorak that the same thing will happen as has happened in every previous series of Big Brother – ABSOLUTELY BLOODY NOTHING.’
Fated And Feted
‘FATE’S finger truly is fickle, and at the same time as it sent John Leslie from our TV screens, it beckoned his ex-girlfriend Abi Titmus into the celebrity fold.
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| Florence Nightingale never looked like this |
Now, some of you might wonder why a former nurse whose only qualification, it would seem, was having slept with an ex-Blue Peter presenter (and half of his mates) is marked out for stardom.
But although Fate’s finger may be fickle, its eyesight is impeccable and it has spotted the very same attributes that have also caught the Star’s eyes.
For while Nature dealt Abi only a mediocre hand(ful), the 28-year-old has played her cards perfectly and – with the help of a couple of big dollops of silicone – now boasts a chest that we can all be proud of.
And no-one is prouder than the Star who plasters Abi and her Titmuses across its front page, while inside she ‘reveals the lot’…about her time on Hell’s Kitchen.
‘There is the caricature of me that has been painted, and there is the real me,’ she says. ‘Going on the show was about letting people see the real Abi Titmus.’
And going in the Star was about letting people see her less-than-real Abi Titmuses…’
Over The Moon
‘THE hopes and dreams of ten million people were dashed this week when the Ferreiras were prevented from leaving the Square by Dot and Mo.
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| ‘If not my mum, then how about me?’ |
The bailiffs had finally turned up to turf the squatting Ferreiras out of their house in spite of the fact that Adi had been given a mortgage.
Sorry mate, not up to me, smirked the bailiff, unable to contain his (our) glee. You gotta go through the courts to overturn an eviction notice.
In another ludicrous twist to the whole pointless Ferreira mortgage storyline, it was up to Pat to point out to Adi that, although hes mentally about 12, as a grown man with a business, hes entitled to apply for a mortgage.
Amazingly, he seems to have found a building society willing to lend him the money, even though the only collateral he has is half a dozen bri-nylon skirts and boob tubes.
But then this is Walford, where no-one owns a washing machine and people work within a two-minute radius from their front doors.
In spite of Adis mortgage, the Ferreiras found themselves on the streets until Dot and Mo agreed to take them into their respective homes because thats another thing about Walford – all houses are replicas of the Tardis, able to house up to 20 people comfortably.
Elsewhere in The Square, there was also bad news for Nana Moon. Nana was supposed to be getting married this week to her toy boy and business guru, Wilfred.
Unfortunately, as was clear to everyone other than an 82-year-old (and Fat Pat), Wilfred was actually a con man.
Alfie caught Wilfred trying to sneak to the tube station on what was meant to be his wedding day. Ive only got months to live, he blurted out to Alfie which is actually going to be true once Fat Pat realises hes done a bunk with her 30 grand.
Dirty Den is also another man behaving badly (what a surprise). Wife Chrissy is convinced hes having an affair and decided to follow him when she overheard him making a restaurant booking for lunch.
She was left shame-faced though when she burst into the restaurant and found him with Ian. Internet sex is one thing but youd have thought even Dirty Den would have drawn the line at Ian Beale.’
Caveat Eater
‘UNACCOUNTABLY, we forgot to congratulate Vanessa Feltz last week on being crowned Radio News Journalist Of The Year at the Ethnic Multicultural Media Awards (the EMMAs).
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| Contains 90% fat |
Vanessa has long been a favourite of us here at Anorak Towers in fact, a full-size poster of Nessie covers a multitude of sins on the fetid walls of our editorial dungeon.
And so we dont want to hear any jokes about her having the perfect face, or physique, for radio.
Nessie is a woman of many talents and twice a week Star readers are all the better for the pearls of wisdom that she casts before her fellow swine.
For instance, this morning Vanessa has plenty to say on the subjects of diets something you would imagine she was uniquely qualified to discuss.
(Who better to talk about hospice care for the elderly than Harold Shipman? Who better to warn against the dangers of tanning than Robert Kilroy Silk?)
If we are what we eat, she says, were in very serious trouble.
True Vanessa herself, for instance, would at this moment be two fried eggs, five rashers of bacon, three sausages, four rounds of toast, a tin of baked beans…
Yank virtually any food out of your larder, she continues, bother to have a butchers at the label and youll be shocked, angry and plain panic-stricken.
No, not because your last tin of deep fried Mars bars is past its expiry date but because some of the labels on the tins can be misleading.
Shocked? Angry? Panic-stricken? Like us, youre probably a combination of all three.
It appears that those nasty food manufacturers prefer to advertise their products as 90% Fat Free rather than 10% Fat and Reduced Fat rather than Added Sugar.
Whats more there is ice cream on sale which contains no dairy products whatsoever, barbecue flavour crisps which may never have seen a barbecue and egg plants that have never been near a chickens backside.
Time was, Nessie concludes, label-reading was strictly for anoraks. Now, its only pillocks who claim to be too busy to make the effort.
Or those who are too fat to grab the tin of the shelf in the first place…’
Lovely Bubbly
‘WHILE Vanessa Feltz wants to teach the world to slim, we are afraid to report that the Sun is pulling in the opposite direction. (Clearly, to little effect.)
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| The bubbles get right up the noses of the French |
It is offering its readers the chance to win a free scoop of delicious Thorntons ice cream, along with a yummy free fudge stick.
We do not know whether Thorntons ice cream contains any dairy products or not, but with names like Chocolate Heaven and Tempting Toffee we dont care that much.
However, its not just on food that we should be more sedulous in checking the labels.
Check the label on that fine bottle of champagne that you are drinking for breakfast and youll probably find Made In England written on it somewhere.
According to the Suns interpretation of a blind taste test by wine experts, British sparkling wine is better than French champagne.
A £19 bottle of Classic Cuvee 1996 from Sussex, for instance, was praised for its complexity and elegance; a £14.99 Pinot Reserve from Kent was highly rated; and a £18.95 Cuvee Merret Cavendish 2000 from Sussex was also well received.
Three experts are still in hospital, however, after tasting the £1.99 Anorak Grand Reserve 2003.’
The Mates Test
‘FAT? Unfit? Stressed? Heart problems? Forgetful? Depressed? Forgetful?
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| ‘What d’yer mean I’m not funny?’ |
Life really couldnt be much worse for you at the moment, could it? Wrong. Add unpopular to that list.
According to the Mirror, a lack of friends can be seriously bad for your health.
We need our friends for lots of reasons, the paper says, telling us that our bum really does look big in those jeans, listening to us wittering on for hours about how hes The One, then picking us up and dusting us down when we discover we were wrong after all.
But, according to research, hanging out with pals also has great health benefits.
People who exercise with mates, for instance, are seven times as likely to go the gym as those who exercise alone.
Dieting with a mate is a recipe for success; people who spend most time chatting with chums have the best memories; and having at least six people you call friends makes your four times less likely to get a cold.
Finally, women who give birth with a friend present are 28% less likely to need pain-killing drugs.
There is good news, however, for those people less popular than an American in Fallujah as you never get any sex, you wont have to worry about having a more painful childbirth…’
Young, Gifted – And Black?
‘BEING gay and black isnt easy just ask David Beckham.
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| Beckham BG (Before G-string) |
Becks has recently been voted Gay Icon of the Year, and also received an award for being the countrys top black sportsman.
But somehow he seems to juggle both balls successfully, to the delight of those in both the gay and sports camps.
He tells the American magazine Vanity Fair that he has always dressed different: When I was six I was a page boy at a wedding and the outfit I wanted to wear was knickerbockers, knee-length socks, frilly shirt, and ballet shoes. When his father told him people would laugh, young master Becks replied: I dont care I like it.
And having thrown this bone to his camp followers, Becks talks of his current sartorial mentor from the urban world of bad-boy rap.
The Sun reports that some of his clothes are chosen by rapper P.Diddy. We speak on the phone. He sends me some clothes sometimes, Hes a really nice bloke, opines the England skipper.
Spoken like a nice man, David.’
Kitten Caboodle
‘BIG BROTHER bosses are holding a crisis meeting over fears that Kitten could wreck the show, reports the Mirror.
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| Would you do it for England? |
People are s****ing themselves that Kitten will ruin things, says an insider. Shes becoming so militant and the rest are starting to follow suit.
A cynic might say that this story is a sad attempt by BB to rustle up some publicity at a time when the show is trailing badly to Hells Kitchen, but thats by the by. The real story comes from elsewhere the Star, to be precise.
The paper reveals that far from being a teenage hooker, Kitten was in fact ensconced in a posh public school, for which her dad had to make huge financial sacrifices.
Not surprisingly, the old man is aghast at his daughters antics. Peoples lives are being destroyed by this, says Mr Pinder. Her mother has been totally distraught.
Not just her mother, either: There have been frail elderly relatives who have had sheltered upbringings whose lives will be ruined by this.
One person less shocked by the furore is Kittens girlfriend Lianda Gibson. She can be quite a moody person and we have a star chart at home where we plot her behaviour, says the level-headed and not at all weird 25-year-old.
Thats a star chart, not a Star chart, by the way. Although given the success of the tabloid prayer mats in mending the Beckhams foot, then surely the brains behind The Official Big Brother Newspaper could come up with some sort of supernatural device to tame the wild Kitten and save the show the nation.
Come on lads: do it for England!’
Post Mortem
‘WHEN Royal Mail security staff and police raided a postmans home in Newcastle-under-Lyme, a stash of 17,000 undelivered letters was discovered, reports the Daily Mail (sounds like the Royal Mail, but delivers every day).
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| Hard working postmen think nothing of taking their work home with them |
Not surprisingly, local folk are shocked.
Seventeen thousand items is a massive amount of post, says local councillor Mary Maxfield. I just cant understand why anyone would want to steal that many letters.
Quite so. As anyone familiar with Royal Mail custom and practice will know, this kind of indiscriminate theft is a totally unacceptable aberration.
The correct policy is, of course, to feel all envelopes carefully and keep only those that you are sure contain credit cards, passports or cash.
All other mail should be left in a public place within half a mile of the address shown on the package within a month of the postmark date.’
Fighting Talk
‘D-DAY, announces the Mirror: 73% of young people do NOT know what our soldiers died for.
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| ‘First East Angular, zen West Angular, North Angular, South Angular…the vorld!’ |
So? Most young people dont know what their right arms for, or their arse from their elbow, or where Cambridge is (its abroad in East Angular, of course, as Jade Goody so memorably told us in the days when young people DID know a thing or two).
But the paper goes through the motions of asking young people (or, rather, students, advertising executives, and a few teenagers) a series of historical questions, and dutifully records their replies.
D-Day: Is it something to do with Domination Day?
Prime Minister: Was it Tony Blair?
German leader: Was it a king?
And so on. Of course, it should be pointed out that a recent survey of American newspaper journalists recorded similar levels of ignorance, and no doubt the British hacks who are currently compiling D-Day anniversary tributes are feverishly boning up on the historical basics.
And in any case, theres no need for anyone to exist any longer in ignorant bliss, as the Mirror has helpfully enclosed a facsimile of its D-Day edition. And it all seems eerily familiar to 21st century eyes.
The government was involved in a prolonged and disastrous war, and was taking an obsessive interest in the national diet.
There was a major fuel shortage looming, thousands of aggressive Englishmen were preparing to invade the continent… and a London man was busy working away on an exciting new concept that would become a household word Big Brother.
Plus ça change, as our D-Day hosts would no say.’
Cherry-O
‘TALKING of the olden days, does anyone remember Mr Kipling?
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| A free cherry bakewell dildo with every pie |
Yes, you at the back with the piercings. No, not the one who directed the film If
We speak of the Mr Kipling who made exceedingly good cakes. Although we never actually met Mr Kipling himself, we felt we knew him, because the advertisements always featured the voice of his friend, who would tell us how Mr Kipling had invited him round to try his latest creation and then enthuse about how much he had enjoyed his pals lemon fingers, or sticky balls, or whatever delight had tickled Mr Ks fancy that day.
Of course, all good things must come to an end, and Mr Kiplings friend has not been seen for many a year. Which may have something to do with a story in todays Star, entitled Mr KIPLINGS EXCEEDINGLY MOULDY PIES.
Apparently, thousands of the great mans fruit pies have been ordered off the shelves by officials from the Food Standards Agency.
The problem is that Mr Kipling, being an old-fashioned sort of cove, doesnt put enough new-fangled preservatives into his confections, and after a while they start to go off.
And although they have been removed from shops, there is a fear that some people might have them stored at home you know, the sort of people who still have supplies in their pantry from D-Day, the 1973 oil crisis, the truckers strike and the Millenium Bug panic.
Our own theory is that Mr Kiplings friend passed away a long time ago, hence no more ads. So when Mr K himself kicked the bucket, there was no visitor to notice the strange smell coming out of his remote country cottage.
The delivery men worked their way through the backlog of pies in his shed, and eventually it became obvious that these were not quite as fresh as customers had come to expect.
Social services were called in, and discovered the decomposed Mr K head down in a bowl of cake-mix, a secret recipe crumpled up in his cold, rigid fist.
Meanwhile, the FSA advises anyone who has pies in their house to take them back to the shop where they were bought and ask for a refund.
Unless you bought them from old Peggys village shop in 1975, in which case, dont waste your time. She died in a drive-by shooting two years ago, and its now an Ann Summers.’
Tea On The Tracks
‘ITS not easy being a wrinkly rocker. Not only does the voice go, making it harder to scream those big notes, but you suffer the same problems as every other OAP.
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| ‘The 13:50 service from Lancaster will be ready for boarding in ten minutes’ |
For one thing, the house is too big for your old bones, and this is particularly true if your house is a bloody great mansion with 20 bedrooms.
Rod Stewart is a man who is currently experiencing precisely this problem, and although he is a sprightly 59, he has trouble keeping up with his 33-year-old partner Penny Lancaster.
So he has hit upon an ingenious solution: using a Tannoy announcement machine to issue his mating call to his blonde bird or to tell her to put the kettle on.
It was hilarious the first time I was round there and heard the loud hailer, an unnamed source tells the Sun. It was almost like having Rod Stewart as a train station announcer.
Of course, this was before Rod took him up to the loft to play with his famous Hornby brush-four ’
Tat For Tit
‘WHEN a man gets tattooed on his neck or face, it is usually his way of signalling that he plans to (a) have a mental breakdown, or (b) start a new life wandering the streets staring into the middle-distance and sitting on park benches drinking carrier-bagfuls of super-strength lager.
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| Surely one pain in the neck was enough |
But when that man is David Beckham, it signifies nothing of the sort, of course. It is a statement, to be pondered and interpreted by all the world as though it were an ancient rune.
For most of this week, the papers have been busy churning out opinions on the aforesaid neck inscription, but now comes the real bombshell: a huge portrait of an angel on his right upper-arm, of the type that might have provided the frontispiece of a louche 1920s novella.
The sign of a man whose mind has cut adrift from its moorings? Not at all. According to a marketing source quoted in the Sun, the tattoo drives home the message that hell fight to protect his marriage and his reputation
And there is another, more important message to be driven home. The new tat was unveiled as part of a Gillette promotion, and the significance is not lost on the source.
More important for him, it shows that the Rebecca Loos scandal hasnt tarnished his image in the eyes of advertisers.
Meanwhile Dr Linda Papadopoulos described here as a top behavioural scientist, but better known as the woman who crops up on every pseudo-documentary on Channels 4 and Five has a different take. The popular excuse for not having a tattoo is people are worried how it will look when they are 70, she says.
Leaving aside the question of why anyone needs an excuse not to have a tattoo, what does this tell us about Mr Posh? Davids showing that hes not a conformist, concludes La Pop.
Or perhaps he simply doesnt worry about how he will look at 70 or 30, come to that.’
