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.
Death Becomes Them
‘FOR the first time ever, EastEnders failed even to get nominated in the Best Soap category in this years Baftas.
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| ‘Ruddy copper!’ |
Hopefully this will be the wake-up call producers need and they will realise that theres only so long loyal viewers will continue tuning in to watch paint dry or rather watch varnish dry on the wooden acting of most of the current cast.
I cant go on! sobbed Martin Fowler to Derek. Tell us about it! This week Mark Fowler was buried in a traditional EastEnders funeral which meant plenty of milling extras in black lining the market and Doctor Legg making his annual appearance.
Michelle wisely decided to stay away, so it was left to Pauline, Vicky and Martin to emote for England. Hes gone to a better place, said Derek, trying to comfort Pauline. Indeed he has -hes gone to The Bill.
Elsewhere in The Square, Alfies debts continue to spiral out of control (a case of art imitating life?). Andy sent Dennis to beat him up as a warning for getting behind with his repayments.
Pulling on a very disturbing pair of black leather gloves, Dennis went to the Vic and shoved Alfie up against a wall. Instead of going in for the kill, Dennis broke down into tears, in despair at what hed become (someone who voluntarily wears gimps gloves).
Alfie begged Dennis to beat him up a bit on the grounds that whoever Andy sent next wouldnt be so understanding/useless.
Kat discovered where Alfie had got the money from to pay Charlies fine and went to confront Andy. You make me sick! she spat at him when the gangster offered to wipe out Alfies debt if she slept with him.
Who do you think I am? she shouted. Well, certainly not Rebecca Loos – her rates are slightly higher.’
By George!
‘WEVE got nothing against St George. Admittedly, we did have money on the dragon and we still think the fight was fixed, but weve got over it.
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| ‘Tell me the cure for cancer or taste my lance!’ |
However, why is it that on this day every year he comes back to torture us? Why is it that today we celebrate the life of a second-rate puglilist?
What did St George ever do for us? He slayed a dragon. Big deal! Like we said, the dragon was probably paid to take a dive in the fourth but, even if he wasnt, its not like England ever had an infestation of dragons.
If St George was such a top bloke, why didnt he do something useful like cure cancer or find England a left-sided midfielder instead of concentrating his energy on a medieval version of polo?
The Sun skirts round such thorny issues and instead urges us to be proud to be English today, listing our courage, our culture and our cricketers as three things to celebrate.
We are a nation of many faces, it adds, and many faith, but being English binds us together. By George, what a great lot we are!
No, were not.
This is a country where people read the Daily Mail and worse the Daily Express.
Okay, we admit that not many people actually read the Express, but thats only because they can get a much classier brand of prejudice and xenophobia in the Mail.
Of the few who do, we can report that 93% backed the papers decision yesterday to swing its support behind the Tories at the next General Election the political equivalent of giving Jordan a trainer bra.
Our phone lines were red-hot, it boasts, as thousands of people rang in with a tidal wave of support.
How many thousands? Well, there the paper suddenly comes over all shy.
But luckily Anoraks resident maths expert has been hunched over his calculator all morning and concludes that the minimum number of votes needed to give a percentage of 93 is…14.
Admit it, guys. You got only 14 phone calls…’
In The WRonG
‘THIS is also a country where 72% of the population (in a Sun poll) have an opinion on whether the Beckhams marriage will survive his recent infidelities.
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| ‘Is it because I is tanned?’ |
A country where people actually care if Jordan is going out with pint-sized Aussie Peter Andre. (By the way, she is. It says so in the Star.)
A country where the big debate today is whether Big Ron is racist.
Former players come to the TV pundits support in the Star this morning after he lost his job for calling Marcel Desailly a lazy fucking nigger on air.
While Ian Wright tells the Mirror that he was racially taunted by Big Ron, John Fashanu, Carlton Palmer and Cyrille Regis, all of whom played for Atkinson when he was a manager, insist to the Star that he is NOT racist.
Not that it seems to bother Star readers whether he is or not, judging by some of the text messages sent in his support.
if thats big Rons opinion hes entitled it, stuff the pc brigade its supposed to b a free country, writes Phil of Wakefield.
Yes, Phil. And English is supposed to be the mother tongue.
big rons got balls he tells it how it is, says Mitch.
And Darren of Leeds weighs in with a considered SHUDDUP YOR BIG FAT STUPID FACE YOU MORON.
By George, what a great lot we are!’
Dressing Down
‘ONE person that all the papers can unite in support of is Maxine Kelly, a 36-year-old lawyer sacked for wearing too short a skirt.
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| Nikkala does ‘dress down’ Friday |
Needless to say, Miss Kelly is suing the firm for sexual discrimination after falling foul of an office policy telling women what they could and couldnt wear.
Banned were revealing or suggestive dresses and skirts, skirts worn above the knee, low-cut tops, garments showing the midriff, clothes that ride up and reveal excess flesh when bending over or sitting, tight trousers, skirts or blouses as well as visible tattoos and body piercings.
The dress code was sent to 50 women at Advance Legal, a law firm in Burton-on-Trent, all of whom were told to sign it.
According to the Mail, Miss Kelly signed the code but made public her complaints about it. She was sacked days later for alleged poor performance.
I cant believe I worked for an employer with such archaic attitudes, she complains to the paper, and a scant disregard [sic] for womens right.
Unlike our tabloid press which celebrates St Georges Day (or Saint Gorgeous Day, as the Sun wittily calls it) with topless pictures of Zoe and Nikkala (whose breasts incidentally are so far apart you could drive a double decker bus through them).
By George, what a great lot we are!’
Ron Gets Given The Eyebrows
‘BIG Ron Atkinson has been responsible over the years for adding several new phrases to the footballing lexicon.
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| Big, but not clever |
One thinks of ‘a spotter’s badge’, awarded to a player who has performed well; a fierce shot being ‘given the full gun’ and step-overs which are, in Ronglish, ‘lollipops’.
There’s also ‘the big fella’, the ‘little blonde fella’…and the ‘lazy fucking big nigger’.
The Sun reports that the 65-year-old has been forced to quit as an ITV soccer pundit after describing Chelsea defender Marcel Desailly thus after Tuesday night’s Champions’ League game.
His words, which he thought were made off-air, were picked up by a mike and broadcast to fans watching an Arab channel.
They also heard Desailly described as a ‘cheating bum’, Juan Sebastian Veron as a ‘lazy fuck’ and some viewers claim he also referred to the Blues’ manager Claudio Ranieri as a ‘wop’ (which the Sun helpfully explains to its readers is a derogatory term for an Italian).
Atkinson excused his remarks by saying that he had no idea his comments were being broadcast and apologised to Desailly.
‘I feel as low as I have ever felt since I came into football,’ he said. ‘I am particularly upset because nobody is less of a racist than me.’
Well, we’d suggest there may be a few people who are less racist than Ron. Readers of the Express, for example…’
Posted: 22nd, April 2004 | In: Tabloids | Comment (1)
Trash Or Tramp?
‘WE couldn’t let a whole day go by without mentioning Rebecca Loos, the woman who is currently trying to build a career on the back of the fact that she slept with a footballer.
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| Trash or Tramp? |
Today’s debate centres on whether the 26-year-old is ‘tramp’ or ‘trash’ – a debate started by Uma Thurman at the Kill Bill: Vol 2 premiere.
After hearing of Rebecca Loos and her claim to fame, Uma gave her verdict.
‘I’m not sure whether she’s trash or tramp,’ she said. ‘I’d say tramp, though. She can’t get enough PR.’
The Mirror explains the difference.
‘Publicity-loving tramps may not hold the moral high ground when it comes to their private lives or their careers,’ it says, ‘but, like Rebecca, you have to admit they carry it off with a certain panache.
‘Trashy stars, on the other hand, like Becks’ other supposed lover Sarah Marbeck, are the poor man’s version of their stylish counterparts.’
As a £300-an-hour escort, Sarah Marbeck was the poor man’s version of nothing.
But to illustrate the point, the paper suggests that Jordan, Rachel Hunter, Britney Spears are tramps, while Jodie Marsh, Penny Lancaster and Christina Aguilera are trash.
You get the picture? Now, it’s time to join in at home.
We’ll start you with a couple of easy ones – Princess Diana and Camilla Parker Bowles, Ann Widdecombe and Virginia Bottomley…’
Express Delivery
‘THEY say that you can tell a lot about a man from his enemies. In which case, Thursday April 22nd will go down as a good day for Tony Blair.
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| Get your free copy of Big Ones inside! |
It was the day that the Express newspaper announced that it had made ‘the historic decision’ to give its support to Michael Howard and back the Tories at the next General Election.
‘We believe,’ it says, ‘Mr Blair has lost his way and no longer offers the nation either decisive leadership or a political prospectus based on the timeless British values of hard work, free enterprise, individual liberty and respect for authority.’
Oh, and of course a congenital dislike of foreigners.
After a brief flirtation with the centre left at the end of the 1990s, the Express has returned in the last couple of years to representing the timeless values of little England – xenophobia, small-mindedness, distrust and fear of the unknown.
And at times it has even managed to pass itself off as a nastier version of the Mail.
Why we need a nasty version of the Mail we don’t know as the paper whose job it is to put the fear of God into Middle England today shows it has nastiness of its own to spare.
The paper puts together a montage of Tony Blair’s face made out of the images of 71 service personnel who have died in Iraq, Kosovo, Macedonia, Sierra Leone and Afghanistan since Labour came to power in 1997.
The effect, borrowed from an American artist who used the technique to make a portrait of George Bush, is clearly intended to imply that Blair is responsible for these deaths.
Men such as Cpl Richard Ivell, who was killed in a vehicle accident in southern Iraq in February, Major James Stenner and Sgt Norman Patterson, both of whom died in a car crash in Baghdad on New Year’s Day, Cpl Andrew Craw, who died in a training accident, Rifleman Vincent Windsor, who died in a road accident, Sapper Robert Thomson, who died in a construction accident…’
This Happy Breed Of Men
‘TODAY Anorak salutes a quite extraordinary bunch of people – the 987 Sun readers who phoned in yesterday to back the proposed European constitution.
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| Poll Sensation: 3% Say Yes |
Who are these brave men and women who have remained resolute in their support of the European dream in the face of the paper’s unremitting hostility?
Who are these hardy souls who sit in their local pubs night after night lecturing the assembled company on the merits of Europe-wide tax harmonisation?
Who are these modern-day Sir Thomas Mores, whose Utopia is a sovereign European parliament, an overarching European Court and a European defence force?
The Sun’s front page may trumpet the fact that 97% of the 36,392 readers who phoned its EU The Jury poll said no, non and nein to handing more power to Brussels.
But if 3% bothered to pick up the phone to say yes, oui, ja and si, then all may not be lost for Tony Blair quite yet.
Of course, these 987 might be have misread the question, they might have dialled a wrong number or they might have been cold callers ringing to see if the Sun was happy with its current contents insurance policy.
We will hopefully know more tomorrow as the lines are still open.
So, if you want to join this happy breed of men, then pick up the phone and dial 09063 612217 now. Calls cost no more than 10p – a cheap way, we’re sure you’ll agree, of attaining immortality.’
Begging The Question
‘SEEING as Jordan has lived out every moment of her adult life in the tabloids, we wonder what her autobiography could possibly tell us that we don’t know.
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| ‘Who’s to say that there’s not someone hiding under the duvet?’ |
The answer, judging by this morning’s Star (which has bought the serialisation rights), is absolutely nothing.
Jordan ‘reveals’ that she doesn’t like Victoria Beckham. In fact, we might go further and suggest that she actively dislikes Victoria Beckham.
She is, according to our top-heavy friend, ‘a cheap Essex bitch who deserves everything she gets’.
Actually, as Anorak readers will know, Victoria is in fact a cheap Hertfordshire bitch who deserves everything she gets.
We also ‘learn’ from Jordan’s autobiography that she can’t get enough of three-in-a-bed sex.
‘Can’t get enough’ might be overegging this particular pudding – she admits only to having had one threesome in her life with Dane Bowers and one of her best girl pals.
‘I’d do it again,’ she says, ‘and who says I haven’t?’
To our knowledge, no-one has come out publicly to say that Jordan’s experience of troilism is confined to this one particular occasion.
But we think Jordan might be rather missing the point of writing an autobiography.
Normally, the genre involves answering questions about oneself rather than asking them.
‘Who’s to say I was born in the tiny Somerset village of Chilthorne Domer? Perhaps I was born in Yorkshire after all? Or as some have suggested in Italy?
‘And who’s to say I wasn’t reared by wolves..?”
A Doctor Writes
‘TODAY is, according to the Mirror’s WMD-ometer, the 357th day that we haven’t found the weapons of mass destruction that took us to war with Iraq.
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| ‘Have I not elegance? Have I not fragrance?’ |
It is also, according to the same paper, the 17th day since David Beckham’s crown as perfect husband/perfect father slipped a little.
Which begs the question – will we find Saddam’s WMD before we lose interest in Beckham’s love life?
Certainly, there is little sign of the story flagging this morning as yet another woman comes out of the woodwork claiming to have been betrayed by the England captain.
She is Dr Miriam Stoppard, the Mirror’s agony aunt, who admits: ‘I’m unashamed to confess that I, like millions of other women worldwide, was in thrall to David Beckham.’
His talent on the pitch, his maturity as the captain of the national team, his unselfishness to fellow players, his clear delight in being a father and, yes, his sexiness are what set the good doctor’s heart aflutter.
‘Yet we were wrong all along,’ she says. ‘We were conned. With the confessions of Rebecca Loos, we now know Beckham for what he really is – a total shit.’
Why did the bastard sleep with his slag of a PA and not with me?!’
Becks Does Penance
‘REBECCA Loos and Sarah Marbeck have done their worst; now the interview all the papers want is with one person we know has slept with David Beckham – his wife Victoria.
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| ‘It sleeps 12, so there’s one room for you, one for Rebecca…’ |
And it looks like it’s going to come down to a battle between the Sun and the Express, both of whom try to outdo each other by fawning over the cuckolded wife.
To be fair, the Sun has been laying the ground work for the past fortnight.
It may have been its sister paper, the News Of The World, that broke the story of Beckham’s infidelity, but what’s the point of having your cake if you can’t eat it as well?
So, the Sun was quick to label Loos the ‘sleazy senorita’ and praise Victoria for her dignity as one girl after another came forward claiming to have intimate knowledge of her husband.
But the Express fights back this morning with a picture of ‘Queen Victoria’ posing outside the Albert Hall and wearing a smile like The Joker emerging from The Toxic Bin.
And in her use of her wedding throne as a stage prop for last night’s gala performance, it reads ‘a bold and symbolic gesture’ to her supposed rivals.
This, the paper is also quick to remind everyone, was the same throne that was used in the couple’s 1999 wedding, covered exclusively by OK!, which is of course owned by the very same Richard Desmond who owns the Express.
Meanwhile, David Beckham lets his hair do the talking as always, appearing beside his wife with his head shaved in some kind of penance for his adultery.
But getting back in his wife’s good books is going to cost him a lot more than a number one all over.
He’s already forked out £1m on a ring for La Posh’s 30th birthday; now, according to the Sun, he is set to pay £10m for a Swiss ski chalet called Septieme Ciel.
The chalet, near Verbier, sleeps 12 and boasts an outdoor Jacuzzi, sauna, games room and basement cinema.
Holiday firm Descent International, which rents out the chalet for £32,000 a week, says it ’embodies the art of extreme relaxation’.
And Victoria was apparently so excited when she heard about her present that, as an insider tells the Sun, ‘she was close to tears’.
As indeed she might be if she realises that it was in a basement cinema that her husband is alleged to have seduced Sarah Marbeck…’
Chinese Whispers
‘A FEW years ago, Prince Edward complained to an American audience that the British did not celebrate success.
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| ‘Hmmm – Sunningdale or Wentworth tomorrow?’ |
It was a subject on which no-one was more qualified to comment than the actor-prince – his Ardent Productions company had just posted its fifth consecutive annual loss at the time.
Indeed, success was not something that Edward had much experience of, whether in his short career in the Royal Marines, as Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s tea-boy or as host of It’s A Royal Knockout.
But if the British are none too happy to be lectured about success by the man who put the Really Useless into Lloyd-Webber’s Really Useless Company, then they’re probably not going to take too kindly to being lectured about the virtues of hard work by his brother, Prince Andrew.
In an interview with the Press Association on the eve of a trip to China as a British trade envoy, the Mirror says the prince called on British workers to try harder.
‘The British are known as the Monday to Friday people in China,’ he said, adding that we should be ‘more engaged’ and ‘more involved in the long term’.
Of course, Prince Andrew is anything but a Monday to Friday person – his commitments take him onto the golf course at weekends as well.
And quite often he will be seen working late into the night, especially if the young filly he is with is proving a touch harder to crack than expected.
In the interview, Andrew also dismissed ideas that his job was ‘mind-numbingly boring’, saying: ‘It’s enthralling. I learn something new every day.’
Yesterday, for instance, he learnt how to hit a high fade with a one iron, the day before he learnt the Brazilian for ‘doggy style’…’
The Spanish Armada
‘SIR Francis Drake may have repelled the Spanish Armada more than 400 years ago, but he didn’t manage to stop all Iberian influence from reaching these shores.
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| Because bluebells have feelings too |
And like the floral equivalent of an Al Qaeda sleeper cell, the Spanish bluebell (which arrived on this island more than 300 years ago) has just been activated.
According to the Mail, the Spanish bluebell (a pale imitation of the indigenous flower) has suddenly taken hold in the wild and is spreading across the woodland.
Within a decade, experts warn, the British bluebell will be no more as its scentless Spanish cousin takes over.
Like a waiter in Torremolinos, the Spanish flower is apparently cross-breeding with the British to produce a hybrid plant that is hardier than the fragile British bluebell.
And the Plantlife charity is urging British gardeners always to buy genuine British flowers and never to plant or dump Spanish (or hybrid) bulbs in the wild.
But why stop there? Let’s take the fight back to the Spanish by packing a suitcase full of good old British bulbs to throw around on our next trip to Benidorm…’
Who David Did Next
‘VICTORIA Beckham is on course to realise her ambition to be more famous than Persil Automatic, ironically thanks to her husbands less than whiter-than-white behaviour.
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| Wonder what Freud would have made of Sarah MarBECk, ReBECca Loos and now ReBECca Pous?’ |
According to the Sun, model Sarah Marbeck (Becks Girl No.2) is to follow Rebecca Loos (Becks Girl No.1) onto TV as tonight she gives an interview with Australias A Current Affair.
On the programme, for which she has been paid £25,000, she is expected to give evidence of her two-year affair with the England captain and talk about her past as an escort girl.
And with (according to Max Clifford) at least three more women about to come out and admit to having an affair with Beckham, it appears that TV studios around the world are going to be booked out for some months to come.
In fact, we at Anorak are pitching the idea of a serial, provisionally entitled I Slept With David Beckham, on which each week a different guest reveals more of the fallen idols sex secrets.
First guest, courtesy of the Star, is Rebecca Pous, a Spanish pop star who is said to have had an encounter with the Real Madrid footballer in a Barcelona hotel.
Spanish TV host Antonio Montero nominated Pous (who is the cousin of actor Benicio Del Toro), adding: Im not saying they made love or they didnt make love.
But, despite her husbands manifold infidelities, Victoria Beckham is refusing to move to Madrid to keep a closer eye on him.
The Mirror says she wants her boys to continue at school and nursery in England and also wants to stay close to her parents.
Victoria has no plans to go over there, a friend told the paper. She says she will not be bullied into doing something she does not feel is right for the boys.
But she is planning to do a TV interview to tell the world that her marriage is rock solid.
Shes reluctant to pour fuel on the fire, but wants this hurtful saga over and done with, a source says.
And the chance to get a bit of extra publicity can hardly be a bad thing…’
Albert Square-Bashing
‘I SLEPT With David Beckham could be just the ratings winner the BBC needs, especially at a time when its flagship soap EastEnders is in trouble.
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| ‘And then what did the aliens do, Arthur?’ |
Indeed, the Star reports that the shows bosses are to hold crisis talks in a bid to reverse the recent ratings slump.
And top of their agenda is a plan to revive the ailing soap by bringing back some Albert Square favourites.
Tamzin Outhwaite, Gillian Taylforth and Craig Fairbrass are all to be offered massive pay deals to return to the show, which did not even merit a nomination in last nights Baftas.
Lesley Grantham (Dirty Den) has already been brought back and Dean Gaffney (Robbie) is set to make a reappearance, albeit only briefly, when he jets back from India to see his sister.
But why stop there? If Bobby Ewing can come back from the dead in Dallas, so can Arthur Fowler (although the image of Pauline in the shower is one we could do without).
If Fallon can be abducted by aliens in Dynasty, the same aliens could surely transport her from Colorado and drop her off in Walford.
And if it appears that every second woman has slept with David Beckham, surely it is time for Sonia Jackson to whip out her mobile phone and get texting…’
Raspberry’s Ripples
‘READERS of most of this mornings papers are treated to pictures of a bikini-clad Kelly Brook splashing around in the surf on the set of her new film.
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| Surf’s up |
This admittedly hardly constitutes news, but it is at least an altogether more pleasant sight than the Mails offering a bikini-clad Geri Halliwell playing Frisbee with a dog.
A fellow sunseeker said the former Spice Girl was the picture of health and happiness, although judging by the accompanying photo it might be said rather too much health and happiness.
Indeed, we recommend that Geri pick up a copy of this mornings Mirror, where bibulous Royal correspondent James Whitaker reveals the diet secrets that helped him lose 40lb.
Ordinarily, we are firm believers that the less we see of Whitaker the better, which is why we are so happy to report that there is less to see of him than ever.
But we nervously await tomorrows instalment, in which the human raspberry talks us through the exercise plan that helped get his overweight body back into shape.
The prospect of seeing Whitaker in a pair shorts is too much even for those of the hardiest constitution.’
Holiday Camp
‘THE Easter Bank Holiday gave scriptwriters a chance to wheel out their favourite (and least successful) plot device – the Walford away-day.
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| ‘Don’t worry, Martin, we’ll get you another jacket’ |
While it might be nice for cast and crew to have a jolly outside the claustrophobic confines of the set, for viewers its usually hideously embarrassing. Who could forget the time the cast went to Oierland, or Frank Butchers resurfacing in Spain?
This week, Albert Squares more senior citizens went off to a holiday camp called, very inappropriately, Jollies (aka the old Hi De Hi set).
Jim has recently undergone the sort of complete personality swap only found in soaps, from being the Squares very own Bernard Manning, hes now so right-on hed probably find The Guardian too right-wing.
For his weekend away, Jim invited his two new best friends: a gay man and a black man. And this from a man who didnt speak to his daughter for five years for dating a darkie.
Still, soaps, like the Conservative Party, operate in their own space-time continuum and bear absolutely no relation to real life.
Patrick had decided to use the weekend to propose to Yollande but, being one of Walfords comedy characters, he of course had to muck it up.
Patrick and Jim went on a bender to commiserate, and, hilariously, Patrick ended up in bed with Dot after getting into the wrong chalet. How we laughed!
Derek has much more luck in the bedroom department, however, when the manager of the Holiday Camp turned out to be his ex boyfriend, Robert.
Unfairly, Pauline complained of Derek abandoning her when Derek chose to spend the night with Robert. Im not your husband, he hissed at the cardie-wearing toxic witch (copyright: Dennis Watts).
There was more bad news for Pauline when Martin turned up unexpectedly to announce that Mark had hung up his leather blouson jacket for the last time and ridden off to the EastEnders Cast graveyard in the sky (otherwise known as The Bill).
Martin had taken the news very badly, and Sonia had driven him through the night to see his mum, despite the fact theyd broken up earlier that night.
Bizarrely, Martin had accused Sonia of losing too much weight and looking nice, which, unsurprisingly, Sonia didnt tell too well and dumped him. Perhaps Martin was looking for a mother-replacement?
Back in Walford, Sharontella Versace and mini-Dennis have moved into the B&B, so they can be togefer.
Den is furious something you can tell because the cracks on his varnished face have got bigger through all the frowning hes doing. If yer gonna date me daughter, yer no son of mine, growled Den to Dennis. So wots it gonna be? Family or relationship?
Thats the beauty of sleeping with your sister though you never have to make that choice ’
Rhyme And Reason
‘THERE is just no escape. Resistance is futile. The only thing to do is to sit tight and wait until Posh n Becks are once again back flogging sunglasses and Marks & Sparks clothes and Rebecca Loos is old news.
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| ‘It’s the two little princes I feel sorry for’ |
And it will end soon. The story of David Beckhams alleged affair with his PA is taking on shades of the Princess Diana affair, and we know how that wound up.
The Mails pictures, taken from Loos TV interview, shows the woman who claims to have dallied with Becks demurely tilting her head to one side in the way once favoured by the dearly departed Princess.
But more than that is the Suns headline. My Rock, it shouts. Only this time the rock really is a rock and not some podgy little butler – a million pounds worth of pink diamond that David is to give his wife on her 30th birthday.
And just like Di, who warned of impending doom in a recording, the Sun says that Posh knew what was heading her way and laid it down on tape.
Since no-one bought the record, the Sun tells us that Posh recorded a rap song entitled The Dude at the time David went to Madrid and Loos was hired as his assistant.
On the tape, Posh sings about a love rival whos from a good background and enjoys good sex, while Posh has been alone and been misunderstood.
It goes on: Youve got a man and his boys are strictly off limits. If they make noise, your style will be diminished.
Thats a rhyme, of sorts, and heres another one: Dont mess with that dude because hes already taken. I dont give a damn what plans you are making.
And theres this one: Even if the player says hes planning on shaking, the bottom line is hes still taken.
This rap is explosive stuff and explains much – chiefly, why the record was never released and why Posh has not enjoyed the No.1 hit she so ardently craves.’
Pulling A Tractor
‘HAS this man got the most ridiculous hobby in Britain? asks the Mirror of a certain Scott Chester.
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| ‘Why Becks didn’t stick to tractors is beyond me’ |
Our initial reaction is to say no. There are far more ridiculous hobbies than Mr Chesters, such as the Mirror editors habit of tracking a former Spice Girls every move.
But middle-aged men are a funny lot, whether they are producing a newspaper or, as Mr Chester is doing, travelling the country looking for tractors to pose with.
The 42-year-old, who is unsurprisingly unmarried, has in the past six months built up what the Mirror calls an amazing album featuring himself and around 250 different models.
The 2001 John Deere 6310 is the Kate Moss, while the spindly 1969 Massey Ferguson is every inch a Twiggy.
The only true oddity is that Chester is not naked in the photos or acting out some onanistic fantasy with the controls.
He is fully clothed, dressed in a sensible red parka with his trouser bottoms tucked reassuringly into his socks.
But different strokes do please different folks, and what Chester calls his labour of love has attracted interest from other tractor enthusiasts.
Ive already had an offer from another fan to buy my album, confesses Chester. But by the time Ive finished Ill have one of the best collections in the country.
He may then choose to exchange the shots with others like him, perhaps over the Internet. Which if it is not illegal already, should be.’
Garraway With Yer!
‘HOW do you top the story of a man who poses with tractors?
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| Urns |
To many that would be an unsolvable riddle, but to the Mirrors staff, its a breeze.
They have scooped the story that no-one else got close to, and on Page 3 readers are treated to the sight of GMTV presenter Kate Garraway walking hand-in-hand with her new man, Matt Nasir.
But the paper is not one to sit on its hands, and it stands on the doorstep of Kate and Matts new home to ask her just what on earth is going on.
We enjoy doing stuff together, says Kate. Weve had fun.
The mind boggles at what Kate means by that, but rest assured the Mirror will find out what she means by fun and what passes for stuff in her love nest.
And the sensations keep on coming in a story thats splashed over an entire full-colour page.
Over where three smaller photographs sit aside the main shot of the pair walking, the paper delivers the full weight of its scoop.
STEP UP, says the caption on picture one. Kate cant wait to get into house.
LOADED, screams picture two. Removal van with garden seats.
POTTY ABOUT HER, says the legend below picture three. Matt carries urn.
That should read Matt carries two urns, but what with the excitement of it all, we can forgive the Mirror that small oversight.’
Aide Memoire
‘REVEALED, says the Mail. The real reason you cant find your car keys.
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| The Queen was taking no chances with the French traffic police |
Not the pretend reason, note, or the fanciful reason, but the real reason. And since we love reality so very much, we read on.
The real reason, at least the one Professor Rene Marois comes up with, is that our short-term memory is very small.
We found that the upper limit for visual short-term memory is just four objects, says Marois, whose team researched the matter.
So if you come in and put your keys down with a load of shopping on a crowded work table or worktop, then you could find yourself immediately having problems remembering where you put them.
The remedy is so sit down, roll a large joint, sip on an alcopop and try to think.
Or try only ever to buy three things, spending less time thinking about who played in the last World Cup and more time throwing out the entire contents of your unruly home.
But the good professor may well be wrong in whatever it was he was banging on about.
It might just be that you left your car keys in France, along with your car, driving licence and a large quantity of euros.
The Mail says that police in Calais have targeted British divers whom they claim have become an increasing menace on the A26 south of the shopping haven.
Just over the Easter weekend, of the 126 cars pulled over by the French cops, 113 were from the UK, and 110 of those were pulled over for speeding.
And seven of that number had their cars impounded and were arrested, bailed and ordered to appear in court later this month.
The rest of us probably left out keys in David Beckhams hotel room…’
Heaven’s Door
‘COINCIDENCE? So some would say; but not us. We know that such is the power of the film that even an advert for The Passion can lead to miracles.
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| Jesus was chuffed with his new D&S door |
And so it came to pass that on the Mail’s page that was pressed against Mel Gibson’s vision of Jesus there appeared a vision of Christ.
Those not privy to this miracle can nip along to D&S Suppliers in Huddersfield where the same image can be seen in a £46 pine door.
You have to look really closely to see the face of Christ in the knot of wood. Then squint though narrowing eyes. Then loll your head on one side.
One who can see it is Philip Ader, who coincidentally manages the DIY store. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ says he. ‘They all look at it and some scoff, but most are absolutely astounded.’
Of course, only a true believer will see it and, if you can’t, it probably means your spiritual father has abandoned you and you are now on a collision course with Hell.
You can read all about that in Revelations…’
An Ugly Tackle
‘REVELATIONS are everywhere this morning. ‘REVEALED: Why men never do the housework,’ says the Express.
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| Denis Caniza shows off his ball control |
‘Want to know why your man can’t see the house is in a mess?’ Well, actually…
‘Why he can remember the names of all the football players in the last World Cup but not the juicy bit of gossip his mate told him a couple of hours earlier?’
Therapists Michael Gurian and Melanie Whitehouse think they know why, and have written a book in which such mysteries are revealed.
‘What Could He Be Thinking’ will surely be the must-read book for all those drudges who vacuum round their husband’s legs as he watches celebrity crown green bowling from Thruxton and racks his brains to remember the right back who played for Paraguay in the 2002 World Cup match against Germany.
(It was, of course, Francisco Arce.)
But today remote man and his lady wife can share a natter over a story that involves his passion for football and her hunger for scandal.
Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to call a truce in the battle of the sexes while Rebecca Loos tells the Mirror something she says only a woman who has been to bed with David Beckham would know.
Want to know what it is? Or would you rather know who played left back for Paraguay?
Ruth, the Sun’s newsreader in briefs, thinks she already knows the answer to the Beckham question.
‘Perhaps it’s a tattoo or a beauty spot on his bum,’ says she. ‘Or maybe he has a scar on his manhood.’
Maybe. Maybe it’s all of the above.
But we will not know for sure until David sleeps with one of us (which is looking increasingly likely), Posh tells all or Miss Loos takes the stand in court.
As Loos tells the Mirror: ‘So I think if they [Posh ‘n’ Becks] did want to take me to court, I could easily stand up and say, ‘Well…”
Well, what? Oh, come on already, we want to know, and we ask the Beckhams to put their lawyers where their mouths are and sue.
Meantime, we can tell you that the Paraguayan left back of some repute, was the ever-youthful Denis Caniza.
By sheer fluke, Caniza actually has a photo of Beckham’s manhood but, what with his casa being in such a state, Denis can’t remember for the life of him where he put it.’
Bermuda Shorts
‘TRY not to panic. You have not been abandoned. Breathe in deeply. And then out. And then in. And then out.
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| ‘We will fight them on the unspoilt sandy beaches…’ |
Count to ten, if you can. Stockpile tins of Spam and oven ready chips. Lock the doors. Pull up the drawbridge. Man the barricades. Sit tight.
But do not panic. Rest assured that when he is good and ready, Tony Blair will return, and he’ll come back bolder, stronger and with a radiant tan to make Kilroy blush.
Right now the people of Bermuda need him, and that means we will have to be brave, stoic even, and wait. Chins up.
The war on terror has taken Tony to many corners of the earth, and now it takes him to the far-flung Caribbean, and this time he’s taken along his family, just in case things don’t pan out.
Like the British Army in Basra, Tony’s dispensed with the panoply of body armour, guns and heavyweight security and has been seen moving around the island helmetless and with minimal fuss.
The Mail has a picture of Tony posing with some Allied forces also stationed on the island, standing before the camera with John Potter, a ‘company director’ from West Virginia, his courageous wife LaMoine, teenage daughter Lexi and her friend Lauren.
After the shot, John said that he and Tony talked briefly and, in the course of their conversation, he thanked the British for their support in America’s war on terrorism.
And then trouble struck. While our leader dangled Leo on his knee, another man stepped forward. ‘Hey Tony, is that your grandson?’ he called out.
‘No. It’s my son,’ quipped Tony, like a Gatling, ‘but I obviously need to get back to the gym.’
But there’s no time for gyms – not with a war to be won.’
By George (At Asda)!
‘SINCE we know Tony Blair to be a youthful type with silken, wavy hair and the body of a teenage girl gymnast, we wonder if it really is him out there on the Bermudan front line and not some much older double.
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| A pair of Anorak Comfi-Slax is on its way to you, Marion |
Not that grandparents are over the hill these days. The Sun says that a survey conducted by the Centre For Population Studies has found that grandmas today are ‘younger, fitter and busier’ than ever before.
They are, in the Sun’s opinion, ‘SUPERGRAN’. And ‘Just grantastic’. ‘If you have a supergran in your family,’ it says, ‘give her a big kiss today and say thanks.’
And if she’s called Marion Richardson, make that kiss long and lingering, and, if you can stomach it, plant it somewhere south of her mouth.
Marion is every ounce the attractive, busy, fit modern grandma, and it’s an allure that has not been harmed one jot by her recent £17m win on the Lottery.
‘I’ve always wanted to be Shirley Valentine,’ says the grandmother, ‘and have my stretch marks kissed.’
And thanks to her win, her simple dream is one step closer to being realised.
But you Romeos will not catch up with Marion on some Greek idyll but in Beverly Hills, where, according to the Express, she is to take her millions on a shopping trip.
‘I shop at George at Asda and I don’t know what sort of clothes rich people buy, but I’m going to see,’ says she.
We, of course, do know: the rich buy Anorak Comfi-Slax with cut-away sides to reveal the fuller figure and allow easy access to those delicious stretch marks.’
