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.
Ryan Air
‘THE great thing about being a rock star is that you can live out many of your fantasies like watching Kate Moss dressed in nothing more than a black bikini gyrating round a pole.
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| Weapons of Moss distraction |
Well, thats actually a fantasy we can all live out, courtesy of the new video for American cult rock duo The White Stripes latest single.
And the Mirror has the stills to support its claim that it is one of the sexiest pop videos ever made, suggesting that it is erotic that it may be banned from Top Of The Pops.
The bad thing about being a pop star is that you may have to hang around with the likes of Lee Ryan, the weasel-faced singer with boyband Blue.
Certainly, passengers waiting for a British Airways flight to Prague on Monday were left hanging around as the boy-rodent ignored final boarding calls and caused an 11-minute delay.
But instead of being apologetic, the Sun says he told the woman at the gate to f*** off when she ticked him off.
The girl looked shaken up, but he didnt seem to care, a Heathrow worker told the Sun. He just laughed at her and went on swearing.
He was extremely abusive to her and other staff.
Reason enough for the rat-like singer to earn the accolade the plonker of pop from the Sun.’
Computer Hacker
‘TINA Barrett was apparently known as The Plank by her fellow S-Club members on account of her not being overendowed in the brain department.
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| Tina swore it would be the last time she dressed herself |
We can therefore assume that her stalker Steven Hindley, described as lonely by the Express, was not after Tina for her brains.
But whatever it was, he bombarded her with sexy e-mails and showered her with roses and chocolates for nine months, during which time he never got a reply from the singer.
That is when the 41-year-old son of a retired GP turned nasty, threatening to shoot her and her fellow band members dead on stage.
In one e-mail, he claimed to have found out her home address and threatened to visit her and hack her to death.
The Express says Hindley was sentenced to six months in jail yesterday for a separate offence of downloading indecent pictures of children from the Internet, with no separate penalty for the harassment.
However, the chairman of the bench did suggest that, if he was still intent on hacking a popstar to death when he got out, he might like to turn his attentions to a certain rat-like singer in Blue…’
CS Gas
‘WHEN Jack Ryder and Kym Marsh first separated then reunited within seconds we feared the beginning of a trend known as the Celebrity Split (CS). And our fear seems to have been born out with news in the Star that Alex Best is to give husband George one last chance.
After telling us how the marriage was over and how hed doodled on her body and lopped off her hair while she slept, Alex is allowing the former footballer to return to the marital home in two weeks.
Now turn to the story in the Mirror that Rachel Stevens has just split from fiancée Jeremy Edwards. Add to this the news that Rachel is, like La Marsh, launching a solo singing career, and you have the makings of another CS.
Were still talking, says Rachel to the Mirror at 12:31 yesterday. She is sure everything will be fine.
At 12:34 a close friend of the singer says, They have definitely split up. They are not together anymore. They are an ex-showbiz couple.
And than later that day, after Rachel had had her photo taken by the press, actor Jeremy was in interview with Radio 2 DJ Steve Wright.
Wright asked if the love affair was over. No, not really, said Jeremy. Yes and no.
So there it is the Celebrity Split is now an essential part of the PRs armoury. But the worry must be over where such ruthless promotion will end.
Once is has been done to death will the jilted lover go the same way? Did you mean to kill your model boyfriend, asks the reporter of the new singing sensation. Well, yes and no, she replies. But we hope to get back together in a future life…’
The Last Noel
‘LETS talk about the good things that Noel Edmonds has done. Hmm… For starters, he hasnt been on television for a few years, not since his House Party was raided by police and ignored by viewers.And he has cultivated the neatest beard in the world. You can stare and stare but you will not find a stray hair on it. Go and try if you must.
And youre chance to do so comes in todays Mail where Noel admits for this first time that he has played a key part in the destruction of British telly.
We tried our damnedest to make it special entertainment, says Noel, but Ill admit Im a contributor to the decline in TV standards.
Im guilty as charged for certain things. I dont say that with pride. But honestly mlud Im not quite so guilty as others. Could I be let of with a caution?
Weve taken the liberty of conducting a poll to answer Edmonds plea and while 11% of you say a caution is punishment enough, the rest want Edmonds deported to a remote island and then quietly put to sleep.
But hes not going without a few more words, and he treats us to a gem of an image. Taking of his dreadful House Party, he says: I was the racing driver with a car that was failing.
Well, when your vehicle is a man in a fat spotted suit, you cant expect to get too far. Although the further Edmonds goes the better…’
Give ‘Em The Chair
‘IN what sounds like a stunt to promote equal opportunities, an unnamed pensioner is being hunted for dangerous driving – in his electric wheelchair.This trailblazer for grey power is not without his victims and the Express says that hes wanted in connection with an unfortunate incident.
Elaine Whitty, 47, and her young daughter will never forget the day when while out shopping the worlds oldest joyrider ploughed his electric wheelchair into them, knocking the 17-stone mother flying and trapping the portly toddler.
According to evidence, the driver refused to help them, and sped off into the unknown.
Elaine was so disgusted by incident that she has reported the driver to the police. But the man has already covered his tracks, driving his vehicle to a patch of wasteland and torching it.
We just hope this isnt evidence of yet another new trend, and well not soon be seeing OAP lager louts vomiting in gutters and old women flashing their bums at police cars.
Lets stop this madness before its too late. And when we catch his felon give him an electric chair thatll really keep him in check…’
Posted: 19th, August 2003 | In: Tabloids | Comment (1)
A Rash Act
‘SINCE a lance is a weapon most often used to prick an unsightly boil we note that someone of that name has just married Ulrika Jonsson.
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| Isn’t it great when two people really deserve each other |
The Sun spots ”grinning” Lance Gerrard-Wright the morning after his wedding to the Swedish TV weather girl emeritus.
We are even invited to zoom in on Lance’s neck on which sits a large red marks. The Star has a similar shot and asks us to believe that it could be a love bite.
It could also be a rash. And if Lance has been reading the news over the last few weeks he should a) be thankful that it’s only on his neck and b) get it seen to immediately.
But rather than keeping a safe distance, the Mirror rubs up close and shares a few words with the couple on their wedding day.
Talking of the post-wedding reception, Lance conjures an image to bring a smile to all our faces. ”Our first dance was to I Had The Time Of My Life from Dirty Dancing,” he confides. ”We even performed out own special routine which we had practised once or twice.”
Looking beyond the live floorshow, Lance tells how he then picked up a handy guitar and serenaded Ulrika with Paul Weller’s You Do Something To Me. Perhaps something she learnt from her time with John Leslie.
And since the wedding day coincided with her birthday, her 36th birthday, Lance also delivered a prepared encore, singing a version of Haircut 100’s Fantastic Day with new lyrics specially written for Ulrika.
That’s a song which in its original classic form contains the line ”Well I can find a funny feeling”. As we say, Lance, get it checked out, mate
‘
Biting Back
‘WE’VE consulted experts at Haywards and are assured that there is a high probability that with the addition of some herbs, spices and silverskin onions George Best could actually pickle himself for all posterity.
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| ”I’d rather they were tankards” |
With so much alcohol having already washed through his system, so long as no-one lights a match in his vicinity, George can go on forever.
But he’ll have to do so alone, since his wife Alex Best has left him. And she’s been speaking about her decision to the Mail.
The final straw came when she found a phone number in her husband’s pocket and dialled it. A woman called Paula answered and Alex smashed the phone down.
”I don’t know if he slept with the marriage-wrecking bitch,” says Alex. ”To be honest I can’t listen to any more of his lies.”
She also, as the Express says, can’t go on with his alleged violent behaviour towards her. She say that when once, while she was sleeping, George chopped off her hair. He also scrawled all over her body with a black marker pen.
Was he working out his bar bill, using her back as a handy tableau? Or just reliving his finest moments on the football field, deploying Alex’s moles and blackheads as the Benfica defence before going on a jinking run with his marker?
George isn’t saying, or hasn’t been asked, but the Express does hear him speak about his relationship with Alex. He says that he never cheated on her – and ”I’m going to prove that I’m not a liar.”
If only he could find where he put wrote down his version of events…
‘
Isle Be Back
”’WHO are you?” asked the 4,000-strong crowd that had assembled on Stromness, in the Orkney Islands. They knew the routine and true to form the man on the raised platform shouted ”It’s me.” It’s Cameron!”
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| One…Two…Three…Who Are You? |
It’s the catchphrase that millions of us have joined in on and it has propelled Big Brother winner Cameron Stout to the celebrity A-list.
The biggest star to come out to Orkney since Ian McSporran the one-eyed plate spinner has returned to his homeland, an event watched by the Star.
Cameron sprayed champagne high into the air and toasted the crowd. But the ardent Christian refused to drink any of the Devil’s love dribble, preferring to stick with plain orange juice.
He was then off to the home of his parents John and Doris, the home he too still lives in, to play a CD of the Big Brother theme tune in his bedroom.
”When you’re in the house, you never hear the theme music,” says Cameron – who fails to realise that millions of us have never heard it either.
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D Is For Harry
‘YESTERDAY Tom Carver became Britain’s most successful A-level student when he scored seven passes.
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| Study geography and see the world |
At the same time, as the Mirror reports, 12-year-old Jonathan Prior was boasting about his grade D is A-level information technology and Playstation studies.
Moments later a letter was delivered to Clarence House and a young ginger lad called Harry picked up his lighter and burned open the envelope.
In it, says the Sun, Harry had confirmation that he had achieved a grade B in art and grade D in geography.
Instantly bells rang out. ”He’s a genius,” said Charles, who, as the Express reminds us, managed a B in history and C in French in his A-levels. ”A regular little Einstein,” said the begonia on Charles’s desk.
He’s his mother’s son alright. But since we don’t not know what Major James Hewitt achieved in his A-levels, if indeed he took any, we had best leave any further comparisons there.
But Charles has the bragging rights, and the Express gives him his dues. ”I am very proud of Harry. He has worked hard for these examinations.”
Now his hard work can pay off as he is able to apply for a commission in the Army. Which is something his father must be truly proud of.
Prince Charles was in the Royal Navy.
‘
The Full Monte
‘WHILE plans for our lottery grant for the Museum of Losing Tickets awaits a stamp of approval and the release of considerable funds, the Mail shows us where money is already flowing.
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| Always bet on pink at the Monte Cassino |
A grant from the Lottery Heritage Fund of £39,500 is to be spent on a ‘pink plaque’ walking tour in Manchester, something the Mail calls a ”gay heritage trail”.
The Mail overlooks the clear educational benefits of seeing where Quentin Crisp once bought a packet of bonbons and focuses on the ”uproar” and ”fury” caused by the decision.
Chief man incandescent with rage is Dr Adrian Richards, former director of the Conservative Family Institute, a title the Mail finds terribly relevant.
”If the gay community wants to celebrate its history in this way, it should put its hand in its own pocket,” says the upstanding medic.
By inference, homosexuals must not put their hands in Dr Rogers’ pockets, as that would be wrong and very possibly result in a criminal investigation.
And the Mail kindly shows us where the money should have spent. The members of the Monte Cassino Veterans Association want to return to the scene of their bloodiest nightmares and had applied to the Community Fund for funding.
But they were turned down. This prompts the Mail to relive the Second World War battle in some detail, employing a black-and-white photograph of a devastated battlefield and veteran John Clarke to call the entire thing ”an obscenity”.
”Without our lads, people would not be able to live the lives that they chose,” says Clarke. And he’s right – unless they chose a life where homosexuals were routinely shot on sight…
‘
Jude The Insecure
‘AFTER Jack Ryder and Kym Marsh’s one-year itch, the Sun sees that Sadie Frost and Jude Law have decided to start from scratch after six years of marital bliss.
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| Single mum of four WLTM film directors with own car and Hollywood mansion |
Last night, Jude’s estranged wife Sadie dialled 999. Jude, the paper says, was banging on Sadie’s door and yelling obscenities, suspecting she had a lover inside. So she called the police.
The police arrived and spoke with both Sadie and Jude, asking him about his role in the Hollywood film business and asking her if she had even acted in anything anyone has ever seen.
And then he went back to his home and Sadie went inside hers – and then she came out to talk to the press, and the Star.
”I have reluctantly come to the decision that my marriage to Jude is over,” she says. ”We have agreed that a divorce is the only way forward.”
But what they cannot agree on is whether or not another man was in Sadie’s house that night. The Mirror though has some enlightening news.
It says the mum of four does have a new flame, a Spanish artist she met on holiday. The paper says how a few days ago it watched the pair spend two hours ”kissing and cuddling” in London’s Regent’s Park.
But that is where the trail goes cold. His identity remains a mystery. Like Sadie, all we know is what he does for a living – and even then there is no proof of that.
‘
Carry On Nurse
‘OHMYGOD! Did you see who has just walked into the Wellington Club? Don’t turn around! She’ll see you.
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| Abi arrives to receive her Anorak Showbiz Pal award |
We knew we’d see celebrities at this Knightsbridge venue and snagging the table by the door has given us the perfect vantage point.
Since for fear of embarrassment you can’t look, we’ll describe her to you. She’s blonde and… No, it’s not Vanessa Feltz, although that would be a-ma-zing.
No, this celeb’s a nurse by profession… No, not Claire Goose. Claire only pretends to be a nurse on telly’s Casualty. But good guess.
This one is a real nurse. She goes out with John Leslie. Had enough? You can guess now. Come on. What’s the matter, are you so awestruck that you’ve lost all powers of speech?
What do you mean Anthea Turner?
It’s Abi Titmuss, you fool. Yes, THE Abi Titmuss. The Express snapper’s seen her and has started taking photos. A quick word with the photographer reveals that she’s now off to the Funky Buddha, a fashionable club in London’s Mayfair.
Grab your coat – we’ve pulled ourselves a real celeb. Quick! She’s going and without so much as a wave to her most ardent fan.
We are among the third of the population who, according to the Mirror, are experiencing some degree of Celebrity Worship Syndrome.
These poor sufferers believe they have a special bond with the star, failing to realise that only a chosen few of us actually get to rub up close to the showbiz big guns.
As the same piece goes onto say, a mere one per cent are true fans, what Dr Lynn McCutheon and Dr James Houran who have spotted the syndrome call ”borderline pathological”.
This VIP group includes stalkers and people prepared to do damage to themselves or others in the name of their idol. Not that we’d do that. We love Abi.
And now we’re in the cab with Abi, we can tell her. Abi… Abi… Where are you going? Stop running! You’d think that a girl who dates John Leslie wouldn’t frighten so easily…
‘
They’re Back – Together
‘INTOXICATED by our audience with Abi Titmuss, who is now an official ‘Anorak Showbiz Pal’, we turn to the Star for more celebrity watching.
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| ”Now you see us…” |
Over the past few weeks we have sobbed our guts out at the news of Kym Marsh and Jack Ryder’s failing relationship.
When Jack went to the toilet, thereby leaving his loving wife, we wailed like an ululating monk. When Kym went to Glasgow for an unplugged one-on-one show with her solitary fan, we felt the sharp pang of Jack’s pain.
But now we can smile as the Star sees the two back in shot together for the first time since their marital problems came to light.
Oh happy, happy day!
In order to save them from being mobbed, the Star sensitively keeps the identity of their lunchtime rendezvous a secret.
But we were there. And anyone – and that is any ONE – who can A) remember when Jack last worked and B) recall the title of Kym’s latest single can win our star prize.
A napkin used by the pair could be on its way to you.
Break a leg!
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Scraping The Barrel
‘IT would take something bigger than Jordan’s IQ to make us avert our eyes from today’s celebrities, and the Star has it.
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| Probably the rarest lager in the world |
Splashed across its front page like a puddle of vomit runs the headline: ”LAGER RUNS OUT – OFFICIAL.”
For the paper’s readership this is akin to a drought on silicon or the end of the world.
But the story is more of a taster of dark days to come as readers learn that it’s only Carlsberg that’s run dry.
And the hot weather is to blame, as Brits have been buying the Danish brew by the caseload. ”Instead of a gold rush, we’ve had a lager rush,” says a spokesman for supermarket chain Asda.
Stockpiles of other lagers and also running dangerously low. Castlemain XXXX, the Australian fizz, has been selling at four times its usual volumes.
Despite being reassuringly expensive, sales of Stella Artois have risen by 40% while the heat wave has been on.
But so far it’s just Carlsberg that has run out. So why?
The answer could be in its own promotion.
In this heat, the bubbly, fragrant drop might really be refreshing the parts other beers cannot reach. – especially if you pour it into the bath first…
Or was that Heineken?
‘
A Horror Video
‘IN one of the more surreal plots of this year, producers tried to turn Little Mo into a subnormal Cynthia Payne. In a bid to put some money towards ”avin’ a bay-bee”, Little Mo had agreed to host a sex aids party in The Vic.
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| Janine relishes the thought of a night with Barry |
For some ungodly reason, Spencer decided to hide a camcorder to record the likes of Kat and Janine squeezing into PVC pants. Perhaps he’s into horror films.
Kat was caught on tape admitting that she’d never loved anyone like ”’er Alfie” and, of course, Alfie just happened to walk in at that exact moment when Spencer was watching the tape. Alfie, who’s clearly a glutton for punishment, begged Kat to try again but she knows there’s far more mileage to be had from this storyline and turned him down – for now.
Another couple who look like they could be getting back together are Natalie and Barry. Natalie has been staying at Barry’s while recovering from flu. She confided in Pat (that great marriage counsellor) that she was thinking of giving their marriage another go.
This doesn’t fit in with Janine’s plans at all as she and Paul are out to suck Barry dry, (perhaps quite literally in Ms Butcher’s case).
”There’s only one thing for it,” Paul told her. ”You’re goin’ to ‘ave to sleep with ‘im.” An interesting approach for a boyfriend to take perhaps, but being pimped out is nothing new for our Janine.
Someone else’s business plans are looking decidedly rocky. Billy is determined to prove that he’s brighter than a member of Blue and that he can support Little Mo in the style she has become accustomed to – that’ll be one step up from Steptoe and Son then.
He’s invested his and father-in-law Charlie’s savings in a get-rich-quick pyramid scheme, which – what a surprise – turns out to be a con.
”What’s the most important fing a ‘usband can do for his wife?” he asked Alfie. ”It’s support ‘er.”
Which goes to show Billy really is as thick as he looks and also explains why Little Mo was so keen to host her sex aids party.
‘
The Vest Of Times
‘STILL searching for a beginning to her talents, Victoria Adams is today wearing a vest.
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| ”Is it cos I is black?” |
It’s a dark green vest, which should have the papers asking if khaki is the new white, given her husband’s many appearances in such an item.
Buoyed by her success in the sleeveless undergarment, Vicky moves on in the Sun to a pair of black shorts and a pair of shoes.
Proving that she is the true Style Queen, Vicky places her feet in the two shoes – one in each. What Vicky doesn’t know about getting dressed is not worth knowing.
But why is she changing career? A life in evening gowns was hers for the taking, but Vicky has reinvented herself. Now it’s underwear.
The Express tracks Vicky’s career and says that her new look is sponsored by an ”urban streetware” company called Roca Wear.
Since Vicky lives on a street in urban Madrid, this is a look she is well suited to.
However the Star says the new look is linked to drugs, guns and violence. Her link with the fashion label ”plunges her into the shady world of gangsta rap,” says the paper.
But this might be Victoria’s niche. After all, she does have black roots – well, brown ones with a little dye in them…
‘
Next Year’s White
‘HAVING seen what is happening to Victoria Adams, we read with a nodding head the Mail’s story that white Europeans are turning black.
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| Cherie Blair shows off her new hairstyle |
After shamefully missing out on asking the question once, the Mail is not going to do so again and swiftly announces: ”Will black be the new white?”
This leads to the thorny issue of what will happen to the old white. And what of the old rock ‘n’ roll and stand-up comedy?
These issues are best left to other times and slower news days, so for now the papers sticks with the research of German skin expert Dr Diaz Pesantes.
The doctor says that with the ultra-violet radiation from increased sunlight will raise the body’s production of melanin. As Europe gets hotter, whites will get darker.
To show us how this will look, the Mail blackens the face of Boris Becker, who with his shock of light hair looks like a photographic negative.
The same Black And White Minstrel trick is performed on German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder, who in the Mail’s eyes now has a ”Mandela look”.
While Germans celebrate the arrival of the country’s first black leader in 60 years, the smart among you realise why the Beckhams really went to live in Madrid.
With Victoria carving out a career in rap music, one thing she was lacking was the right skin colour. She’ll surely get that under the boiling Madrid sun.
Where she’ll get the talent from is another thing altogether. Perhaps her vest knows?
‘
Nice Genes
‘LUCKY old Euan Blair has clearly inherited his father’s ‘Cool’ gene.
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| The Potters |
The Star watches Euan as he parties at the Baby Blue club in Liverpool, with his ”stained khaki trousers and shirt tails hanging out”.
What his trousers were stained with is not said. He might have put the ‘khak’ in khaki or just vomited on them.
But it’s the reason why he was dancing the night away that really captures the imagination. Our Euan was celebrating scoring a job on the set of the new Harry Potter movie.
This, of course, makes perfect sense. The story of the swot who lives for school is the natural home for any Blair.
Sadly, Euan is not the star of the show but a lowly gofer. And the Star reveals that Euan’s job involves taking orders, phone messages and running errands.
It’s a bit like his dad’s job, only the director isn’t called Alastair…
‘
Fly Paper
‘IN today’s edition of When Journalists Attack, the Express follows hack Dennis Rice to Heathrow Airport.
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| A prick – and another one covered up |
Rice has dressed himself in a yellow bib and got himself a job as a baggage handler.
And just in case the militants get tough, he’s brought along a knife. There’s no way Dennis is going to be made to walk out over clocking-in cards, not when he’s so close to the story.
Only that is the story: ”I carried knife onto packed jet.”
The next headline, spread across the second of two double pages completes the picture: ”I lied to get a job near the planes yet no one bothered to check me out.”
And for the hard of understanding, Dennis appears with said knife for the third time, although now he’s holding it upside down, presenting a danger less to the travellers and more to his right foot.
But Dennis missed the real story. If he’d taken his knife aboard the My Travel flight MYT392 from Mahon, Menorca, to Leeds-Bradford last Friday and threatened the pilot and crew, he’d have been cheered by the holidaymakers onboard.
The Mail says that on three occasions the passengers filed onboard the plane. And on three occasions the captain aborted take-off and they filed back to the departure lounge.
In between efforts at departure, baggage handlers, like the Express’s Dennis, moved the bags around to redistribute weight and, apparently, make the plane able to fly.
And then, as the Star says, the plane’s unnamed pilot stood on a chair before the fed-up and frightened passengers and asked the holidaymakers if they wanted to give it another go.
The one condition was that those who stayed – and 14 did – would have to make their own way home. At this point, had Dennis been around, he could have attacked.
But he wasn’t, as he was too busy showing the world his shiny knife.
Next week, Dennis revels the secret war between British Airways and a bearded extremist and his band of uniformed Virgins.
‘
Tightening The Net
‘THERE are many lunatics, weirdos and oddballs out there.
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| Daniel’s bedroom |
There is the woman calling herself Jodie Rimm, who arrives in the Mirror by way of the $50,000 she donated to charity for a kiss with Sharon Stone.
Said one audience member at the charity do in California: ”I think there were plenty of men – and women – in the audience who would have loved to be Jodie’s shoes.”
Shoes which are sensible from the rounded tip to the low heel.
The real surprise in that tale is that it did not in some way involve the Internet.
In an effort to wean the impressionable off the sink of bile that is the World Wide Web, German social services have constructed a summer camp for computer addicts.
The Mail visits the camp in the seaside town of Boltenhagen, northern Germany, and finds out what’s going on.
The inmates, who usually spend up to nine hours a day surfing chatrooms, playing games and researching this and that on their PCs have to make do with just 30 minutes computer access for the 28 days they’re in camp.
The camp aims to give children, like Daniel, ”who weighs 16 stone and has no friends at school”, advice on how to eat properly, keep friends and build self-confidence.
Anyone wanting to find out more should log into www.germancamp.com, and pack their own leather trunks…
‘
Boys ‘n’ Blue
‘THE one good thing about working in these hot and humid conditions is that you are, most likely, not driving while you do so.
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| ”Oi, who pinched my face?” |
Blue’s ferret-faced singer Lee Ryan probably wishes he’d been working instead of erratically cruising round town in his blue Porsche at 4am.
Had he been in the studio recording with the band, he would have escaped the attention of the Sun, to whom Ryan gives a one-finger salute, and the Old Bill, to whom Lee gave a sample of his toxic breath.
Lee failed the breath test and then could not even recall his name when asked.
But we’ll excuse him this, since in a year from now nine out of ten coppers won’t have a clue who he is either.
But worse things happen in Jaguars, especially the one not driven by John Prescott. That solitary Jag is under the stewardship of Mike Ball, who tells the Sun about his ordeal.
Driving along in the heat, Ball removed the shoe and sock on his left foot. He had an itch from a mosquito bite and wanted to scratch it.
Next day, a toe on the naked foot turned blue. He went to the doctor who diagnosed it as frostbite.
”I am amazed that women driving in open-toed shoes are not affected,” says Ball.
Sadly, we’ll never know if they are since John Prescott’s wife is rarely, if ever, behind the wheel…
‘
Ton Up
‘ANY asylum seeker worth his salt should know that to pass yourself off as British you need an insatiable appetite for talking about the weather.
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| One hundred degrees in the shade |
By way of a crash course, the Sun removes all semblance of dossiers and dead scientists from its front page to announce ”101 – HOTTEST DAY IN HISTORY”.
The Mirror agrees with the score, putting the thermometer at 101, but qualifies it by saying Sunday was the ”hottest day ever recorded in Britain”.
And so we get onto the second most vital aspect of British life, namely the newspapers’ inability to universally agree on a simple fact like how hot it was yesterday.
For on the cover of the Mail the temperature has dropped to ”100F”. That is an entire degree colder than in the Sun and the Mirror.
And the Star agrees, also spotting the heat reach ”100”, although this time with an FF, given that the headline-making number shares the front page with pneumatic mod-el Jordan.
But it’s the pedantic Express which has the last word, agreeing that it was the ”hottest day in history” on its cover but that the temperature reached ”100.6”.
There is clearly much confusion.
And in the interests of truth we’ve had a word with a top Ministry of Defence scientist who says that the Sun’s 101 might have been ”hotted up” to sell more papers.
However, we refuse to confirm whether our source was called Michael Fish or not…
‘
Happy Hour
‘SICK of a diet of liver, liver and more pickled liver, the Mirror hears that George Best’s wife Alex has lost the taste for married life and has left her man.
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| For those of you watching in black and white, the drink is green and Best is yellow |
You’d suppose that, given Best’s liking for booze, Alex has left him in a pub or, perhaps, even a coma.
But Best is in fact lying by a pool in Malta, toasting his skin a lovely deep shade of yellow.
He does pause to tell the Mirror ”So what!” when told that his wife has left him. But it’s Alex who’s doing the talking, telling her finds about George’s waywardness.
Not only is George back on the booze, as revealed a few weeks back, but he’s back on the blondes as well, chiefly Paula Shapland, 25.
Paula is pictured with Best in the Sun, looking blonde. Meanwhile, the Express says that Shapland is saying how she and Best kissed within minutes of meeting in a pub and that he’s been in pursuit of her ever since.
”He told me he was doing book signings all round the country and offered to take me with him,” says Shapland. ”He was trying to seduce me.”
Whether or not the kiss is true and went further, the upshot is that George is no longer happily married.
He is, however, happily single – although he can be persuaded to indulge in the odd ”happy” double if someone is buying…
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The Face of Modern Warfare
‘SINCE war is mostly fought on the TV screens, it’s high time the British military got a little more telegenic. War is ugly, but it needed not put us off our tea.
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| Perhaps Jackson will do something about his breath |
So it is with relief that we read in the Sun that Britain’s top soldier Sir Mike Jackson has followed his pop star namesake and gone under the cosmetic surgeon’s knife.
The 59-year-old Chief of General Staff was easily recognised by his kit bags, the fleshy slabs beneath his eyes, caused by much troubles.
Now they are gone and the man who once resembled the cartoon character Droopy after a night out with George Best is now a sharp-eyed dog of war.
His aides, though, are keen to stress that Jackson’s primary objective was not to look better but to improve his eyesight.
Next week, surgeons begin work on his sense of smell…
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Aisle Be Damned
‘WE all knew far more than we ever wanted to know about John Leslie and Abi Titmuss days ago, but the Express is determined to flog the couple’s story to within an inch of its life.
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| Join ugly sisters John and Abi on the end of the pier this Christmas |
And so, this morning we read how the former TV presenter will not marry the woman who stood by his side while he was accused of all manner of sex crimes.
”Everyone is looking for the fairytale ending, but it just isn’t wise to make such an important decision at a time of such huge pressure,” he tells the Express.
What fairytale Leslie thinks he is part of we do not know, but he has got one hell of a lot of work to do to convince people that he should be cast as Prince Charming.
One couple who are heading down the aisle are Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, who the Mirror spots ”sharing some tender moments during a romantic stroll”.
The Mail has been reporting all this week the news (from the National Enquirer) that Hollywood’s golden couple had spilt up after he had been caught frolicking with strippers.
But the pictures in the Mirror suggest otherwise, with barefoot Ben reported to be relaxed and happy, at one point even gently patting his fiancee’s famous bottom.
”There’s no doubt they’re still very much together,” an onlooker says. And they might even manage to stay together until next month’s wedding.
Who said it wouldn’t last?
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