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.
Bunker Busters
‘WE don’t imagine that one in five British soldiers will be getting lucky at their Christmas parties in Iraq this year – but they will be getting some festive cheer.
| The Star’s elite Red Caps |
And it comes courtesy of the Star and in the curvy shape of two Christmas crackers – our old friend Lucy Pinder and Michelle ”Harrier Honey” Marsh.
Sadly, for our boys in the Gulf, the closest Lucy and Michelle will get to Basra is when they delivered £15,000 of Christmas goodies to RAF Brize Norton yesterday.
”If we could take Lucy and Michelle out to Basra with the presents, the troops wouldn’t believe their luck,” said squadron leader Simon ”Spoons” Edwards.
And the Iraqi resistance would no doubt quickly crumble in the face of such awesome bunker busters.’
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
‘AT first glance, it might appear that England rugby’s kicking machine Jonny Wilkinson and Black Sabbath bat-eater Ozzy Osbourne have little in common.
| Jonny’s all smiles after hearing that Daniel Hyde is all right |
But the tabloids make strange bed-fellows and here they are sharing this morning’s front pages after both being involved in car smashes.
The Sun shows Ozzy’s wife Sharon fighting back tears as she lands in the UK to be at the bedside of her husband, who was badly hurt in a quad bike accident.
The 55-year-old rocker suffered cracked vertebra in his neck, eight broken ribs and a smashed collarbone after the crash, which happened (according to the Star) while he was ”larking about” for the cameras.
The Sun says Sharon and daughter Kelly spent several hours with Ozzy, although he couldn’t communicate with them because he was on a ventilator.
And a doctor said recovery would take time: ”His progress is going to be slow and I don’t expect any major changes for 24 hours.”
Anyone who has watched the MTV documentary The Osbournes might be forgiven for thinking ‘No change there’.
And no change with Jonny Wilkinson, who was back in training with club Newcastle just hours after cheating death in a 70mph car crash.
”Miracle!” proclaims the Mirror, adding, ”but then again it WAS Jonny”.
Of course, it won’t surprise anyone to learn that it wasn’t Jonny at the wheel of the car when it went off the road near Catterick and hit a tree.
Indeed, had it been the 24-year-old obsessive driving, there is no doubt that he would still be out on the A1 now practising taking the corner over and over again.
A couple of weeks ago, a rugby player being involved in a minor car crash would barely have rated a paragraph in the papers, but these days we’re all rugger buggers.
And the Mirror is not the only paper desperate to remind us of the mortality of even our biggest stars.
”Three Big Stars…Three Lucky Escapes,” it says, above pictures of Ozzy, Jonny (and a car similar to the one that was involved in the crash) and, er, Daniel Hyde.
Daniel, of course, is such a big star that he needs no introduction, but for those of you who have been living on the moon for the past few years we can tell you he is the actor who plays bad boy Scott Anderson in the Channel 4 soap Hollyoaks.’
For Whom The Road Tolls
‘A COUPLE of days ago, we observed that if it wasn’t for the unsung army of undercover journalists performing vital service in all walks of public life, the country would fall apart.
| The Wapping Expressway |
Well, today we again salute the papers for their selfless contribution to the Treasury’s coffers.
Rupert Murdoch may not have paid a penny in tax in Britain, despite the billions he has made out of its citizens, but he is happy to contribute in other ways.
Yesterday, for instance, the Sun’s motoring editor Ken Gibson parted with £2 of Murdoch’s millions to drive along the 27 miles of Britain’s first toll road.
And it was ”motorway heaven”, with barely another car in sight.
The only thing Ken had to worry about was not crashing into Mirror reporter Rod Chaytor, who was also rediscovering the joys of motorway driving ”for around the price of a pint”.
Of course, Rod would never have a pint before climbing into his car, otherwise he might have careered into the Mail’s Beth Hale or the Express’s Tom Morgan…’
Punch Drunk
‘ONE man who won’t be driving down Britain’s first toll road in a hurry is that wild man of rock, Blue’s Lee Ryan.
| Sophie Amogpokpa after viciously headbutting Cheryl Tweedy’s fist |
Lee is currently serving an 18-month driving ban after cutting up a police car in his Porsche while nearly twice the legal alcohol limit.
You might think that the 20-year-old was lucky not to have been jailed, notably for stupidity – but he hasn’t let a ticking off from a judge curb his wild ways.
Last night, the ”pop plonker” was in hot water again, according to the Star, after lashing out at a photographer outside the 10 Rooms club in London’s West End.
Clearly, he didn’t make a very good job of it, with one eyewitness describing the incident as ”embarrassing”.
In which case, he should have nipped inside and taken a few lessons from Girls Aloud brawler Cheryl Tweedy.
The Star says the Geordie popstrel was back on fine form after her own recent brush with the law, having been convicted of punching a toilet attendant in a Surrey nightclub.
”I think it is about time I got out and tried to have a laugh again,” she said. ”Things have been hard over the last few weeks.”
Yes, poor you, Cheryl. Your fist still hurting from the punch you threw?’
Phil Goes Down
‘IT looks like Mr Potato Head is going to be having porridge for his Christmas dinner as hes still languishing in Walford nick, getting progressively worse at acting if that was humanly possible.
| ”Hey, you’ve held me in the same position for a week now” |
Hes taken to sitting, sulking in his cell or flying into gibbering rages, very much like Gollum from Lord of the Rings (except slightly less attractive).
Phil is refusing to grass up Den and Dennis, telling sister Sam that hell get his revenge another way, saying that it goes against his code. It must be the Green Cross Code hes referring to as Phil happily grassed up Dennis to Andy less than two months ago.
Phil has appointed Sam as the acting head of his empire (consisting of pub, greasy spoon and snooker hall). Youre the only one left now, Sam. Its on your shoulders, he told her, handing over his books which were probably of the colouring kind.
In a maverick move, Sam has fired the manager of the snooker hall for stealing and appointed Billy in his place: a bloke who was fired a month ago for stealing. Its rather like sacking George Bush and replacing him with his father.
Phils got more than his business empire to worry about, however, as Kate has handed baby Louise over to Lisa who promptly left the Square. How could I have been so stupid to think Phil would have changed? sobbed Kate to a bemused Dennis. Its over.
Dennis, never one to look a gift horse/whore in the mouth, was quick to take advantage and offered her his own brand of marriage guidance: a tongue sandwich.
Elsewhere in The Square, the consequences of extra-marital activity have hit home for Gary as hes developed an itch in a very embarrassing place. Gary has given Belinda, Laura and Lynne head nits.
And all that time we thought that the only reason Gary spent so much time scratching his head was because hes an idiot.
Love also hurts in the Ferrier house, when Adi discovered that his brother, Ash, is seeing Shirley. In a very Jerry Springer moment, Adi leapt over the sofa and screamed: How can you sleep with the woman you know our dad loves? before punching him in the face.
In the Vic, Alfie is busy planning his dream wedding to Kat a wedding that, if you believe the tabloids, isnt actually going to take place as Alfie discovers hes still married.
What if it doesnt snow? he fretted to Little Mo. Where am I gonna get inches of white powder from at such short notice?
Well, he could start having a look round Danniella Westbrooks old changing room for a start.’
Forever England
‘LET’S face it – most tabloid journalists wouldn’t know a drop kick from a rolling maul…and for most of the year they probably couldn’t give a ruck.
| Fans gather around some old bloke’s column |
But one thing they don’t need is a second invitation to wrap themselves up in a Union Jack or St George’s flag and try to outdo each other in national pride.
Yesterday’s parade by England’s Rugby World Cup-winning squad makes the front page of all the tabloids, with even the football-loving Star joining in with a few verses of Sweet Chariot.
But this was really a moment made for the Mail, which salutes our ”Heroes” with a front-page picture, an eight-page pull-out and a column entitled, ”Patriotic And Proud Of It”.
It was, the paper says, ”the day the politically-correct haters of our history and identity were routed”.
Who exactly these ”politically-correct haters of our history and identity” are is not explained, but they seem to include one Mr T Blair.
”If a spoil-sport Government had wanted to cast a wet blanket on the celebrations for the Sweet Chariot parade,” it says, ”it could hardly have concocted more adverse conditions.”
Not only had it insisted that the parade take place on a weekday and instructed employers not to allow workers to take time off, but ”after the hardest frost and the coldest night of the winter so far, the forecast was for overcast skies”.
Evil Mr Blair and his evil cohorts of lesbians, single mothers and Europhiles were busy pressing every button on their weather machine, trying literally to rain on the parade.
”And yet, and yet…despite all these discouragements and disincentives,” the Mail says, ”London and the world witnessed the most astounding lump-in-your-throat scenes of national celebration England has known in decades, with the notable exception of the Golden Jubilee festivities last year.”
In other words, it was just about the best parade in the capital since last year. It almost brings tears to the eyes…’
Mo Down
‘IN this new-found surge of patriotism and love for all things English, let us raise a glass or two to the nation’s most popular soap opera.
| Marks out of 10? |
No, not The Royal Family, but EastEnders, that everyday story of miserable folk living miserable lives in miserable surroundings.
A toast first of all to Laila Morse, the 67-year-old actress who plays Mo Slater in the BBC programme.
Oh dear! It appears that Laila has crashed off her seat and is now lying prostrate on the floor after a five-hour boozing session.
The Sun watches her hit the canvas at 1.30am at the annual British Dyslexic Association fundraising night – and refuse all help to get up.
In fact, the paper says, she spent five minutes on the carpet at the Millennium Mayfair Hotel before a middle-aged female pal helped her to her feet and a waiting taxi.
So, let’s forget about Big Mo and raise a glass instead to Big Jessie, Albert Square’s Kat Slater and the sexiest woman in soap for the past four years.
But Kat’s not on her chair either – and a quick look under the table fails to locate her.
Oh, here she is…in the gent’s toilet at the gay Club Fuk in Brighton.
And, says the Star, she is peering over the shoulders of the four fellas at the urinal giving them marks out of 10 for their equipment.
”It was a bit of a surprise but she was very complimentary to all of us,” said one of the men involved – none of which necessarily reflects too well on the size of fiancé Dave Morgan’s truncheon.
But Dave is standing by his woman, claiming that ”she feels she’s been stitched up”.
And as an ex-copper, he should know more about that than most of us…’
Church Choir
‘STEVEN Johnson, cheating – and now ex – boyfriend of Charlotte Church is preparing to sell intimate details of his sex life with the 17-year-old Voice Of An Angel.
| Fallen Angel |
It won’t be the first time – he demanded £50,000 to reveal their bedroom secrets while they were still going out together.
But, as the Express says, he changed his mind when Charlotte begged him to stay with her and showered him with expensive gifts.
However, after being dumped for cheating with a mystery model, the paper says he is ”openly discussing doing a deal with downmarket tabloid newspapers”.
Obviously, that rules out the Express and its downmarket sister paper, the Star, which this morning brands Johnson a ”sleazeball”.
The Sun runs a story of how ”poor” Charlotte bought Johnson a £20,000 ring just days before learning that he had cheated on her – but luckily had not handed it over to the ”love rat”.
And the Mirror, er, well the Mirror doesn’t have anything to say on the matter. Could we have found our downmarket tabloid, perchance?’
The Rag Trade
‘IT has long been the case that most of the ground crew, baggage handlers and security staff at British airports are in fact undercover reporters.
| ”Dear Ali, weather is crap, food is awful, people are Nazis. Wish you were here” |
But it appears that pretty well every other aspect of British life depends upon the dedication and hard toil of this group of unsung heroes.
The police force is just the BBC in uniform, old peoples homes are staffed entirely by work experience staff from the Sun and we all know the Queen cant get her boiled egg and soldiers in the morning without help from a Mirror journalist.
Now, the hard-working Mirror hacks are at it again, this time landing a job as a security officer in an asylum centre.
And surprise, surprise Nick Sommerlad discovers a culture of abuse, racism and violence that SHOULD appal us all.
What Sommerlad saw during the seven weeks he worked at Yarls Wood, the paper says, mocks the Governments claim that the £100m centre was providing a safe and caring environment for asylum seekers and illegal immigrants.
Group 4 staff described the 60 women inmates as scum of the scum, one suggesting that the Royal Navy should sink dinghies used by desperate refugees.
They boasted of pasting the inmates during control and restraint procedures and claimed they beat them up out of view of the CCTV cameras.
But at least there was some discrimination in this discrimination.
The Indians and Pakis are all right, explained a senior security officer.
But Jamaicans are drug-dealing pieces of shit. Algerians are the slimiest bastards in the world all of them. Theyre all terrorists, the ones we get anyway.
And the Chinese are evil little bastards.
After a month and half working in the centre, Sommerlad was sacked not for not being sufficiently racist, but because they found out he had lied on his CV.
As news broke of the crackdown (in the wake of Ryan Parrys undercover reports from inside Buckingham Palace), Yarls Wood became like an Italian battlefield with tabloid journalists falling over each other to give themselves up.
In fact, it transpired that only two of the inmates, four of the guards and a cook were not in the pay of some Fleet Street rag. And three of them were freelancers…’
Voice Of An Angel
‘WE turn the clock forward a few years and catch up with Lucy Pinder and her by now RR breasts as they wrestle with yet more of the worlds great mysteries.
| Mike Tindall |
But the one that has continued to elude them over the intervening years is why anyone was ever under the impression that Zara Phillips was a babe.
In the equestrian circles in which Zara moves, one only need look at her bloodline out of Princess Anne and Captain Mark Phillips – to know otherwise.
But here she is again on the front page of this mornings Sun being described as a beautiful blonde as the paper claims that she is now dating England rugby hero Mike Tindall.
Tindall, you will remember, was the only member of the World Cup-winning side not to have a girlfriend, having been single for the past two years.
But the Sun says he accompanied 22-year-old Zara to something called the North Cotswold Hunt Ball on Saturday night, where they are said to have got on like a house on fire.
Thats more than can be said for Charlotte Church and her lover Steven Johnson, who has been kicked into touch after cheating on the singing star.
The Star says the devastated 17-year-old has locked herself away in a bedroom at her parents house in Cardiff ever since and is swearing that she is off men for life.
In much the same way as every New Years Day half the country vows never to drink again…’
A Near Thing
‘THE Sun brings news that Peter Randalls kidney sell-off is progressing well. A bid of £80,000 has been made by an American women who claims to want the kidney for her husband.
| Did Damon and Vicky nearly make a half decent record? |
Itll make a change from the AK47 assault rifle most American housewives buy their spouses, but shes still £20,000 shy of the recommended retail price.
Sure it is a decent offer for a 49-year-old second-hand organ, but its not the £100,000 Peter is after. It is only near.
And being near is very much the theme of todays news.
Take the story in the Sun, where we learn that Victoria Beckhams mucker, Damon Dash, stands accused by his former lover, Linda Williams, of smoking cannabis in front of their 11-year-old son.
His proximity to the Posh one, and, by association, her children, suggests that, if the storys true, Brooklyn and Romeo are almost in danger of inhaling some second-hand smoke.
And theres the Suns other nearly story about science teacher Jonathan Summers, who has been found in the possession of 400 pornographic pictures of children.
For sure, hes a creepy, odious inadequate, but things could have been worse. Readers learn that until his arrest Summers was a teacher at Howells School, Cardiff.
Yes, that is the school where Charlotte Church once studied, and where she opted not to take an exam in science, the subject Summers taught.
How near she was to being in the same room as a sex offender!
And how close Darkness front man, Justin Hawkins, came to being sent to Sing Sing, Camp Delta, Palm Springs or wherever America sends her enemies.
The Star says that on arrival at JFK Airport, Hawkins was briefly mistaken for another Justin Hawkins, who occupies a spot on their Most Wanted List.
Only it wasnt that Justin Hawkins but the English one – the one in spandex and make-up. His name was as near as things got.
But once more the story got away.’
Turkey Shoot
‘BEING near to the action is something we Brits are well used to. Not so long ago, we were a mere 45 minutes away from being annihilated by an Iraqi missile.
| ”Have you met Jeb?” |
But that danger passed and thanks to George Bush and Tony Blair we now live is freer times.
And to illustrate how much safer things have gotten, the Express says that British troops in Iraq are protecting their vehicles with chicken wire.
While mums drop their little loves off in massive 4x4s with bullbars and anti-grenade paint, our brave beret-wearing boys are out there in what look like converted Nissan Micras covered in gauze.
Itll certainly put the locals at ease and make then feel more able to approach our soldiers.
And this open-arms policy to warfare is rubbing off on our American allies.
Why, only recently, the Mail reminds us, George Bush was in the desert armed with nothing more than a Thanksgiving meal.
Sadly, the paper now tells us that the meal was something of a fraud, and the turkey was made not of traditional meat – white and dark but of plastic.
As soon as the cameras were turned off, the bird was whisked away and soldiers chowed down on prepackaged meals of sliced turkey and vegetables from paper plates.
The plastic turkey has returned home – while the flesh-and-bone version continues his battle for peace in our time…’
A Khan Do Attitude
‘IT gives us no pleasure to tell you that in these tough economic times even we are not averse to selling out.
| Scarf – £10:99; V-neck sweater – £65:49; Bag…” |
And there now follows a short passage in which a well known celebrity known only as MD would like to tell CZJ that she should Not get the milk, honey.
Hey, dont be too critical of us – youd have printed the same and probably much worse for the £100,000 that advert earned.
You might like to know that we were less than happy to reprint the full missive from Jemima Khan, thus forcing her to seek alternative organs through which she could tell the world about her love for her husband, Imran Khan.
The advert, which appeared in some elements of the Pakistani press, both Urdu and English, has been seen and reprinted by the Mail.
Under the headline Jemima Clarifies, the blonde one writes: Whilst it is true that I am currently studying for a Masters degree at the School Of Oriental And African Studies in London, it is certainly not true to say that Imran and I are having difficulties in our marriage.
She calls the rumours about her relationship spiteful and says that – God willing – she will one day be reunited with her beloved. Thats nice.
But weve just had the more important – and better paid – news that CZJ has already got the milk and now wonders: What sugar, grandpa bear?
Read what happens in next weeks Anorak advertorial. (Prices on application.)’
Donor Kebab
‘WHILE most of us make do with turkey at Christmas, one lucky diner is being the offered to chance to feast on Peter Randall’s kidney.
| ”Can you just take enough for a new Playstation?” |
Of course, you don’t have to eat it – you can just look it, frame it or even put it on the table as an interesting centrepiece.
For a hundred grand it can be yours to use as you deem fit.
And, as the Sun tells us, if you buy the organ over the Internet for the full recommended retail price of £100,000, you will be helping Peter’s daughter, six-year-old Alice, get the very best medical treatment for her cerebral palsy.
It’s the kind of story that divides opinion, as the Sun duly employs its health editor to remind us that this is a big decision and a medical type to tell us that it’s all fine and good.
While the paper debates the rights and wrongs of this modern fable, in which Alice reprises the role of Tiny Tim and dad’s Bob Cratchit poses for the cameras, other parents think on.
If Mr Randall’s 49-year-old kidney is worth six figures, buying that computer for junior need not cost the proverbial arm and a leg, just a lung or a foot.
But be warned – once you start giving you might not be able to stop.
The Express say that the contents of an average 16-year-old’s room are worth £3,305 in clothes and electronic gadgets.
The survey by insurance firm Axa found that, while the average child lives in a ”bling-bling” world of excess, the average adult bedroom contains just £2,500 worth of kit.
However, most adults do own two good kidneys and other assorted organs, making them all, in donor terms, millionaires.’
Gwyn And Bear It
‘OUR patented device for calculating the height and weight of celebrities according to their photographs, suggests that Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin can go ahead and have their baby.
| Chris and Gwyn examine the giant Anorak set-square |
The Mail reports that ”ecstatic” Gwyneth is three months pregnant by her musician boyfriend.
And he might yet be her husband by the time the organic fruit of their loins arrives, since, as a source predicts, the pair will probably get married before the birth.
This is great news – it’s another notch in the bedpost of the special relationship we Brits enjoy with our US cousins.
And the better news is that, according to our graphs and those of the Express, the little love will have a high chance to growing up into a healthy adult.
We know this because a study published in the Journal Of Epidemiology And Community Health shows that children born to short mums and fat dads are unlikely to grow up healthy.
And since Gwynnie is, by our reckoning, 6ft 10in tall and Chris weighs no more than seven stone, any child born to them will enjoy a life of rude health and be refreshingly normal.’
Jesus Wept
‘YOU can bet your gold, frankincense and myrrh that when Brooklyn Beckham was conceived it was every bit as immaculate as the Bible tells.
| ”And that – sniff! – is the boy who’s playing the baby Jesus” |
The lighting would have been just so, the goats and other stable animals airbrushed to perfection and the three wise men – Prada, Dolce and Gabbana – a vision of classic contemporary style.
And so we wonder what the play of the event, in which the Mail says Brooklyn is to star, will be like.
Helpfully, the paper aids the imagination with a mocked-up photograph of how Brooklyn might look when he appears on stage in the role of Shepherd 1.
Yes, shepherd! You can’t imagine his mother letting that one go – he’s Jesus at the very least.
And then there’s the outfit, a shapeless blend of revolting old pillowcase (head) and a smock made from what appears to one of Tracey Emin’s old sheets.
So, while Philip Treacy makes a crown of thorns and Tom Ford forms the cashmere and silk into an acceptable creation, Posh prepares to vent her feelings in a speech unto the nation.
In ”Queen Victoria v Queen Elizabeth”, the Sun notes that the Posh one and Her Majesty will go head-to-head this Christmas.
While Liz talks about her constant disappointments in her children on BBC1, Posh will be on Channel 4 delivering an Alternative Speech.
The paper produces a version of Posh’s ”Annus Wickedis”, but we note that no mention is made of Brooklyn’s demotion.
The real speech will surely say more about that and remind us that, as the Bible says, ”The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
”He maketh me to lie down on Egyptian cotton sheets; he leadeth me beside bottled waters; he restoreth my career…”’
An Eye For An Eye
‘EAMONN Holmes, the portly Terry Wogan impersonator, rarely occupies our thoughts. But today he’s in the Mirror in conversation with David Blaine.
| ”I spy with my little hand…” |
The picture of the pair’s meeting has Holmes showing Blaine the palm of his left hand on which an eye has been drawn in black ink.
This, as the paper tells us, is Holmes’ revenge on what he calls his ”worst nightmare”.
It occurred two years ago when the couple met and Blaine answered questions by showing his own eye and barely speaking.
As nightmares go it’s not all that terrifying, and when starved of food, Blaine may well have experienced hallucinations far more horrific.
One thing we know that Blaine did see was a couple having sex in an office.
”The crowd were bizarre,” says Blaine of his time in that famous Perspex box. ”I would see a couple in business suits having sex in front of me. It was so bizarre.”
He also reports seeing women baring their breast, eggs being hurled and ageing rocker Paul McCartney hurling abuse at him in the small hours.
But even in his darkest moments he never saw Brooklyn Beckham playing a shepherd.’
Go Westbrook
‘LOOK around you and it’s as plain as the nose on your face that Britain is not what it used to be.
| ”Britain’s too tacky – I’m off to Disneyworld” |
Someone who has taken a good look at her nose and at the surrounding filth is Danniella Westbrook, who tells the Express that she’s had enough.
Prepare yourself for some grim news: Danniella is preparing to leave Britain for a new life oversees.
News is that Danniella now finds the celebrity world ”tacky” and plans to relocate to Florida with her millionaire husband, Kevin Jenkins.
As Danniella takes her far from tacky highlighted blonde mop and pneumatic breasts to the United States, she’s reminded in the Express that if she returns she does so at great peril.
Phil Collins, who lives in Switzerland these days, came back.
He brought along his ”much younger” wife, Orianne, to see his old stomping grounds. And in the course of the grand tour, she had her purse snatched.
The message is that when you go, you should go for good. It’s something that Posh will doubtless remind us when she delivers her Christmas message from a stable in Madrid…’
Home Sickness
‘WHEN the Sun ditches its Page 3 strumpet, you know something important is afoot.
| ”I walked into a Cabinet” |
And 15 pages in readers have it. Tony Blair is backing the Sun’s campaign to end domestic violence, and he’s written a few words about it.
”Domestic violence is a sickening crime which has hidden in the shadows for too long,” he says.
We cannot agree more. And it’s just as hard to disagree with Tony’s next comment that domestic violence ”usually takes place at home”.
Whose home? Well, Tony’s got that angle covered and, by way of a clue, adds that it’s as likely to happen behind the closed doors of a ”mansion or a flat”.
The theme of the piece is admirable but the writing style seems not unlike a sixth former trying to pad out an essay about a subject he has barely researched.
But Tony seems to be in good company, since alongside his column the Sun produces a picture of a woman seemingly being strangled by what we suppose is her husband.
And it might well be in their home – which could be a mansion, a flat or, dare it not be said, a maisonette.
Now that Tony and the Sun understand what domestic violence is, we peer with fresh suspicion at the Star’s photograph of Home Secretary David Blunkett sporting a black eye.
Describing himself as ”fighting fit”, the bearded one says the wound, which required 10 stitches, was caused when he bumped into a metal loft ladder.
And where did this incident take place? Yes, you’ve guessed at – at his home. Which might just be a mansion or a flat or a cell or…’
Ringing The Changes
‘HAVING been educated in the ways of domestic violence, the papers now tell us about the new crime of using hand-held mobile phones while driving.
| ”I’m on the train” |
The Mail, Mirror and Express all do this by first showing us pictures of people, possibly models, holding what appear to be strips of plastic to one of their ears.
These objects, we are told, are ”telephones”. And since there are no visible leads on show, we make the leap that we are looking at ”mobile telephones”.
With that sorted out, the Mirror moves onto what it calls ”The Big Mobile Muddle”.
But readers should turn instead to the Mail where the issue has been upped to become the ”Great Mobile Muddle”.
The muddle is whether or not you are breaking the law by talking on a telephone while driving.
The Mail seeks to unravel the muddle in a series of questions and answers, the pick of which are: ”What does the new law mean?”; ”So could I stick my phone on the dashboard with Blu-tak?”; ”Can you text or use the Internet on a phone while driving?”
All important issues which the Mail dissects with a rare precision. It even thinks nothing of confronting the thorny question: ”How is hand-held defined?”
The answer to that is: ”It is one that is held in your hand – even for a second.”
Tomorrow the Mail will explain what a car is, with the aid of photographs, diagrams and several pictures of John Prescott.’
The Pout Is Out
‘WHAT the Sun calls ”showbiz’s most famous pout” may be on the way out.
| A Colgate moment |
Of course, the most famous pout is that on the face of Leslie Ash, she of the pout of a trout.
Then there are the pouts of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Billy Idol, Monica Lewinsky and so on. However, somewhere further down the list is the subject of the Sun’s story: Victoria Beckham.
The occasional singer has, it seems, paid £5,000 to have her teeth seen to. They are now straighter and whiter than ever before.
And this could be the end of her pout. A close source says that her pout was the product of an intense dislike of her teeth.
But we wonder what on earth the source is talking about. Every time Posh pushes her head in front of a camera – and it’s often – she adopts not a pout but the demeanour of a stroppy Pekinese.
The mouth opens, the teeth gape apart a centimetre and the tongue is pressed behind the top set.
The closed-mouth pout may have been the product of something else – like the presence of a microphone or food…’
No Sex Appeal
‘SEX should only be for the sexy. We mean not the actual act, which needs only consent and proof of age, but talking about it in public.
| Love’s young dream |
Fine if Lucy Pinder, the Stars cover model, wants to tell us about her romps in the hay, but less so when the headline to the left of her foremost protrusion announces: DEC: I WASNT GETTING ANY SEX.
The Dec is Declan Donnelly, the miniscule host of Pop Idol. He split from his childhood sweetheart Clare Buckfield, whom he dated for ten years, because he wasnt getting any sex.
I havent had any action for ages, says Dec. Its quite depressing when youre too hectic working for nookie.
The thousands of blue-rinsed women who make up Decs fan-base will recoil in horror at the idea that squeaky clean Dec got any in the first place and then wonder why the nine-year-old star is thinking of such adult pursuits.
But children are often a rule unto themselves. Just ask Ozzy Osbourne, who continues the theme of sex for the unsexy with his story in the Mirror in which he tells of his SEX ABUSE AGONY.
I was sexually abused when I was a kid, says Ozzy, who recalls the trauma when he was just 11-years-old. Two boys used to wait for me. They would force me to drop my pants and all that s**t. Unsurprisingly, it completely f****d him up.
Better to stick with the aforesaid Lucy and know that under her party dress this Christmas she intends to wear Triumph knickers that not only look great but are extremely comfortable too.
And if you dont want to take Lucys word for it, you can always ask other well-known sex icons: Cilla Black, Vanessa Feltz, Dale Winton, Edward Windsor, Robin Cook…’
Lip Stick
‘WHAT makes you laugh?
| ”What do you call a woman with one leg?” Eileen? ”No, Heather” |
Do you, for instance think it is funny that Gareth Gates stammer is, as the Star reports, getting markedly worse as his star falls?
Have you laughed at Leslie Ash since her lips were inflated?
Not every one is as kind and generous as you and, believe it or not, many do think of Leslie as a figure of fun.
But things have just got funnier because Leslie wants us to consider laughing not just at her but at other women who have undergone surgery, like Heather Mills.
The Express has seen an interview with Ash in this weeks Radio Times in which the trout-faced star says: People dont laugh at Heather Mills because she lost a leg.
No, they laugh at Mrs Paul McCartney because she is blessed with a rare wit.
The leg is just an added bonus, like funny man Roger De Courceys Nookie Bear.’
Operation, Operation, Operation
‘LIKE a flat that will not sell, the Express has been sending us particulars about property news and prices for far too long.
| ”The bed only cost me a hand and a yard of colon” |
But today there is a twist on the story as a British woman tries to raise funds to get a foot on the property ladder by selling a kidney.
Nicola Ireland is reported to have allowed her boyfriend, John McGowan, to place an advert on the Internet offering her kidney for sale.
The going rate for the organ is said to be £85,000, roughly the price of a small bijou studio flat in an up-and-coming area of Aberdeen.
But the news is grim when readers learn that Ms Ireland plans not to move to the northern reaches of these islands, but rather to buy a place in a Devon seaside village.
Such is the popularity of these places that one kidney might not be enough; chances are Ms Ireland will have to sell some other organs.
She might well die from the operation to donate her heart, liver and brain, but any wake held in her memory will be staged in a delightful dual-aspect lounge-diner with an original Edwardian fireplace and splendid views of the sea.’
Crime Pays Off
‘DEN lived up to his name this week when he did the dirty on Phil, and left him in the factory during their robbery and looking at a long prison sentence.
|
| ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it’ |
Phil, being really quite dim even by Walford standards, had agreed to rob a factory with Den and Dennis. Just look on it as yer retirement fund, said Den as the pound signs flashed in front of Phils eyes.
Den had convinced him that all their previous run-ins were water under the bridge and the pair joined up in an unholy alliance not seen since the Chirac and Blair photocall.
The plan had been for Dennis and Den to do the actual robbery, with Phil supplying the money. But Dennis conveniently got himself arrested in the Vic the night before (for crimes against acting probably) so Phil had to step into the breach.
Amazingly, Phil managed to fit through the skylight and get into the factory and the job seemed to be going well until just as the pair were leaving, Den pretended that hed hurt his ankle and left the car keys in the safe.
Phil was forced to go back for them and Den locked him inside and called the police. Den called Phil on his mobile to taunt him: This is fer Sharon, Dennis and Lisa, he told an increasing scarlet Mr Potato Head.
The police duly turned up and a jubilant DI Marsdon told him that this time, theyd be no escape. Phil has called in Marcus though, the worlds most successful lawyer, so alls not lost: from property law, attempted murder and child custody battles, hes yer man.
Back in Walford, Lisa, Sharon and Kate all attended the Annual General Meeting of Women Mad Enough To Have Shagged Phil, unaware that he was back in his holiday home (Walford nick).
Sharon was helping Lisa to launch a custody battle to get baby Louise back. Well show em, Lisa, Sharon quivered. Well do it the legal way.
Kate told the women that Phil had changed (yes, changed into prison clothes) and that he was a good father. Shouldnt that be Godfather?
Elsewhere, Alfie proposed to Kat in the Vic (theres a surprise) and announced that they were getting married on Christmas Day. Itd had better be before the turkey, otherwise theres no way Kats going to make it through the double doors.
And Gary is on a one-man mission to populate the borough of Walford with sub-normal West Ham fans, having slept with Belinda, Lynne and Laura in the same week.
Some may say that Walford already is populated by sub-normal West Ham fans but I couldnt possibly comment.’
