Celebrity news & gossip from the world’s showbiz and glamour magazines (OK!, Hello, National Enquirer and more). We read them so you don’t have to, picking the best bits from the showbiz world’s maw and spitting it back at them. Expect lots of sarcasm.
How bad is the Daily Telegraph’s subbing? In its report on the monumental Oscars ‘fiasco’ (its word) that saw the Oscar for Best Picture awarded to the wrong movie – the paper calls it ‘the worst blunder in Hollywood history’ – Moonlight got the statuette mistakenly awarded to La La Land – The Telegraph makes an error.
After branding the unscripted entertainment ‘excruciating’, ‘confusing’ and ’embarrassing’, the paper shows ‘La La Land director Jordan Horowitz’ holding up the note that says Moonlight won.
In which case Horowitz may care to have a word with Damien Chazelle, who actually took home the Oscar for best director. It was Chazelle who directed La La Land.
If you’re writing about another outfit’s errors, it’s a good idea to check your own report for accuracy.
When actor Danny Dyer toured the world’s ‘Football Factories’, he hung about with “hard men”. There were hard men all around him. Whether Dyer was a hard man was never made clear, but today the Sun says he might have been when he allegedly ‘sent a picture of his manhood to a starstruck fan’. So routine is the story of famous man sends knob photo to fan we’re surprised signed publicity photos aren’t issued.
The Sun says Danny Dyer ‘sent late-night texts to the young mum’. How young becomes clear in the third paragraph, wherein we learn that the whippersnapper is in her 30s and the alleged todger snapper sent her dirty photos when he was single.
The story continues over two more pages. On page 4 we see Dyer offering us his texting finger, seemingly to pull or sniff. (A kiss ‘n’ smell?) The headline is great: ‘Danny asked for butcher’s at me boat and bottle… then whipped out his Brighton’. It’s fun to play along. A butcher’s is a ‘butcher’s hook’, which is rhyming slang for ‘look’. Her ‘boat’ is her ‘face’ (boat race) and her ‘bottle’ is her ‘arse’ (bottle and glass). News that Dyer has a ‘Brighton sea front’ is worthy of a front-page screamer of its own.
Former Playboy model and swimsuit-clad floatation aide Pamela Anderson is, reportedly, staying in with WikiLeaks founder, Julian Assange. You wonder if being indoors at the Ecuadorean embassy in London since 2012 has dulled Assange’s taste buds and ambitions. The story goes that Assange knew Anderson was the girl for him when she delivered a vegan cheeseburger and Pret a Manger nibbles.
So are they dating? It’s hard to tell. No-one’s leaked any emails between them – Julian, one rule for you, eh… – so Pammy has been forced to speak to the Press. She told Grazia: “It’s very difficult to talk about when you’re under surveillance” – otherwise know as talking to a magazine. “He’s a great guy,” added Pam, speaking clearly into the hidden microphone. “I don’t want to say anything about whether there’s a romance. So, let’s say we’re just good friends.”
Julian’s been talking, too, telling Australian radio: “I mean, I like her, she’s great… I’m not going to go into the private details… She’s an attractive person with an attractive personality… She’s no idiot at all – she’s psychologically very savvy.”
What we want, of course, is for the love to bloom and marriage to erupt; for the couple to tie the knot and step out on to the balcony and toss something fragrant into the crowd, like a sex tape or one of Pammy’s half-eaten vegetarian baps.
When Piers Morgan was told to ‘Fuck off’ on the telly by Australian comedian Jim Jeffries, right-thinkers on twitter loved it. Morgan, who identifies himself without invitation as Donald Trump’s mate, pointed out that there is no ban on Muslims entering the USA and that Trump is not Hitler.
Morgan’s correct. To say so does not mean you like him or Trump, it’s just to acknowledge the facts. Trump is not Hitler. Piers Morgan is not Trump’s Joseph Goebbels, the Reich’s Minister of Propaganda.
This anti-reason shrill denial of basic facts normalises the Second World War and diminishes the Holocaust into a routine event. If Hitler is the now and the everyday, the actual Hitler, the man who wanted to make Germany greater again and triggered the murder of 6 million Jews is not all that extraordinary. Isn’t this what anti-Semites say in their effort to denigrate the great crime, that the Holocaust was not that big a deal? In pointing at Trump and yelling ‘Hitler’, history is subverted. The innocent dead are demeaned and their guilty murderers exonerated.
For the infantile Hitler shriekers, engaging with Trump and, in turn, listening to the 62 million who voted for him means ushering in the embodiment of human evil’s reincarnation. People who protest the illiberal, kak-handed and cruel attempt to ban people from seven Muslim majority countries as something Hitler would do think they are making a principled suppression of Trump’s prejudice. They’re wrong.
Trump, the authoritarian and illiberal enemy of free-speech, is not rounding up Muslims, transporting them to ghettos and concentration camps in a plot to kill every last one them, as Hitler did with the Jews. To use that monumental crime in order to give any campaign against Trump some weight is hideous.
Encouragingly for Trump and any other modern-day Hitlers, things can turn around pretty fast. The New Statesman, which in 2013 branded Angela Merkel ‘the most dangerous German leader since Hitler’, now in the post-Brexit world – it wanted the UK to Remain – calls her ‘the defender of liberal values in the post-truth age’, while the Independent, Raw Story, the Daily Beast and The Australian call Frau Hitler the ‘leader of the free world’.
The ‘free world’ being the undemocratic EU, purveyors of the Germany-biased euro currency, whose technocrats colonised the mismanaged Irish and Greek economies, belittled and harried the Irish for rejecting the Nice Treaty and made second-class Europeans of Romanians and Bulgarians who having joined the EU in 2007 had rights to work and claim benefits limited for their first seven years of membership. Merkel the evil or Merkel the great hope? Everyone gets to decide but her.
As for Jeffries, well, he was playing to the crowd and hitting a soft target. Disliking Morgan’s to-deadline pomposity is easy. When I worked as a reporter one way to get people to talk was to ask them not what they liked but what they disliked. People are far more comfortable listing and detailing their pet hates than their loves. They will tell you don’t like the phrase ‘Oh My God’, when someone with whom they disagree says they’ve been ‘owned’ and the sound of a stranger’s sniffing. Ask them what people they dislike and the flood gates really open. Right now it’s safe to say in public that you dislike Trump. Disliking him – and, boy, is that an easy task – is the quick and easiest way to define yourself and be ‘on the right side of history’. It’s much the same with Morgan. Say you don’t like him and you’re playing to a sympathetic crowd.
And that’s what struck me about Jeffries’s negating of reason and debate in taking a verbal pop at Morgan. It was safe. No-one on the TV show was going to hound him for calling out Morgan, much less Trump. In his rules of modern comedy, Jeffries told us: “You can’t do jokes about black people or Asian people, but you can do a rape joke onstage now and there’s not a problem.”
And you know who was really good at playing to the crowd and hitting soft targets who couldn’t hit back?
Let’s not make the world a safe space, where dissent is censored, disruption mobbed and naysayers shackled. Let’s debate, consider the details, listen and hold things up to the light.
Sad news that Tara Palmer-Tomkinson has died at just 45 years of age. Anyone able to make a living form having fun must have something about her. Today the tabloids are full of kind words about the ‘tragic’ (Sun) socialite and Prince Charles’s goddaughter. News is that T P-T had been suffering from a brain tumour. Since January 2016, T P-T had been receiving treatment for a non-malignant growth in her pituitary gland.
So how did the Press focus on the seriously ill woman? Well, aside from the BBC featuring her in a list of ‘Who is the most pointless celebrity?’, the Press saw her as fair game – ever when she was ill. In March 2016, she told the Telegraph: “I’ve been destroyed by the things people have said.”
DISHEVELLED Tara Palmer-Tomkinson stepped out in London wearing torn clothes and clutching a wad of cash. The socialite looked like she was wearing torn clothes as she struggled to carry her shopping bag.
‘Spotted’ is tabloidese for being photographed by a paparazzo. She was seen lifting a large, heavy bag. In her hand was a small ‘wad’ of notes, as many as two or three. Her torn clothes were nothing of the sort (see below). She looked both clean and smartly attired.
The former IT girl’s top appeared to be ripped and it’s unknown why she was holding so much money in her hand. She was snapped trying to carry a heavy bag of what looked like magazines.
Again. Her clothes were not ripped. And taking photos of an ill woman trying to lift a heavy bag when you could be helping her is not what one might call gallant.
Over in the Mail, which dedicates 3 pages including its front page to the ‘fun-loving IT Girl’, the coverage was no less harsh.
Could Tara, who wore a pink Chanel playsuit that drew attention to her toothpick legs, be taking her fitness regime too far?
Reclusive Tara Palmer Tomkinson looks gaunt in a hoodie and low-slung joggers as she steps out with sister
Becky Freeth used insight to tell readers T P-T was wearing ‘a designer hoodie to keep her warm’.
The Mail also got hold of the same photos as the Sun. Unlike the Sun, which featured 6 photos of T P-T minding her own business in a London street, the Mail went with eight:
PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: Dishevelled Tara Palmer-Tomkinson struggles with a heavy shopping bag as she steps out clutching a wad of cash
Is it a crime to be famous? This week, two stories about blackmail have occupied the Sun’s front page.
The first is the matter of messages hacked from a server that handles David Beckham’s emails. The hackers wanted money to make the ‘leaks’ go away. The company being targeted complained and the emails were delivered to a site that specialises in ‘leaked’ material.
In a few emails, David Beckham allegedly uses industrial language to complain about his lack of a knighthood. He comes out of it badly. But he’s the victim, right? We love the chatter and the details, but surely we can agree that he’s a victim of an apparent crime?
We love to learn that Beckham obtained a high court injunction in December 2016 blocking the emails’ publication in the Sunday Times – a waste of money and effort given that overseas organs published the stuff online. One Romanian outlet detailed Beckham’s ‘angry pursuit of a knighthood’, which included, as the Guardian notes, the former footballer allegedly calling the gong-givers “a bunch of cunts” after he was overlooked for the honour.
It’s all a good read. We can an insight into Beckham’s non-choreographed activities. But he’s the victim.
The second story is on Danny Cipriani, a rugby player. He was blackmailed by a stripper he impregnated. The story goes that he agreed to give her some money for a termination but then failed to cough up. Lisa Murphy, for it is she, had the abortion. When she was forced to miss work, due to health complications, she asked him for money, which again he did not pay. Murphy and her colleague, Violet Smith, 29, then threatened to go to the papers with the story, namely to The Sun on Sunday. Cipriani called the police.
And how does the Sun cover the story?
Is the law different if you’re famous?
A small word of thanks to Alicia Douvall, the pneumatic ‘cosmetic surgery addict’ giving full throat to the Daily Star’s front-page screamer, yeller and ‘oh-my-god-yes’ about ‘MY ELEVEN TIMES A NIGHT WITH SIMON COWELL’. Eleven times a night doing what? you ask. Botox injections? Colonic irrigation? No. Sex.
On page 5, Douvall says Simon Cowell is ‘sensitive and domineering’ in the sack. He ‘ would analyse my performance like a judge on a TV show’. He is also unforgettable because Douvall claims she shagged the old eyeball licker in 2001. Like a try-hard X-Factor contestant , Douvall can’t move on.
Says Douvall, Simon Cowell “knows how to get inside a woman’s head”. Penis first? Or is there some other method?
Whatever the technique, we should thank Douvall for restoring the once tabloid mainstay of celebrity shags to the front pages. We’ve missed it.
In what the Sun calls ‘leaked emails’ David Beckham allegedly wrote about his disappointment at receiving an OBE and not a knighthood in the kind of language you’d expect from a footballer. He allegedly called the Honours Committee “unappreciative c***s”. The stars are the Sun’s work and without a ‘t’ or ‘ck’ we cannot be certain as to the degree of Becks’ upset. He also allegedly wrote, “Unless it’s a knighthood f*** off.” That’s an easier puzzler.
Beckham also allegedly queried the value of an OBE, given that one was awarded to Katherine Jenkins, the photogenic singer. ‘Katherine Jenkins OBE for what?’ mused Beckham allegedly. ‘Singing at the rugby and going to see the troops plus taking coke. F***ing joke.’ Her manager says Katherine OBE does lots of charity work and is deserving of her gong. Her manager is ‘Professor Jonathan Shalit’. According to Wikipedia, Shalit was awarded an Honorary Professorship in 2012 by Henley Business School and Reading University in recognition of his contribution to the arts, music and broadcasting.’
Gongs and titles, eh?
The Mail says Beckham was all set to get his knighthood from those “c***s” in 2014. He didn’t because of ‘warnings from HM Revenue and Customs’ to ‘sort out his finances’. No, not warned to relocate to France or Luxembourg and keep away from the taxman’s reach. The Mail says it was down to Beckham’s ‘involvement in an alleged tax avoidance scheme’. The Mail also notes that the emails were not ‘leaked’ from the servers of Doyen Global, a company run by Beckham’s PR chief Simon Oliviera, but ‘hacked’.
So Beckham’s the victim,then.
The Mirror says he is. It leads with news that Becks is the victim of a ‘Blackmail plot’. The emails were made public only after Doyen Global ‘ignored demands for cash’. The Mirror pits itself as Beckham’s champion – and thus against its rival the Sun – highlighting his ‘Good work’, role as his daughter’s’ HERO’ and dedicates a column to the subject ‘Lunacy he’s not already Sir David’.
He’s no victim, says Jan Moir. The Mail writer dips her quill in vinegar and says, ‘Now we know the reality behind the facade’. Isn’t it a tad harsh to judge a man’s life on the value of a few emails? No, says Moir. “We know now the real Beckham is foul-mouth, determined egotist who uses his work for charities as part of an increasingly desperate campaign to win a knighthood.’
He’d make a good editor.
And so what if grandstanding over charity work is based on self-promotion? If people get help, do we care that he gets a knighthood, a gong so precious they gave one to avid charity worker Jimmy Savile?
Beyonce and Jay Z are getting a divorce, announces the National Enquirer on its front page. What are the details? Well, it’s worth $1bn and it ‘EXPLODES!’. A clue as to why the showbiz stars are apparently splitting is hinted at in the teaser: ‘Love child sparks vicious court fight.’
Odd, then, that the Sun leads with news that Beyonce is expecting. Is she the one with the love child? No. This pregnancy is heralded not only by a veiled Beyonce cradling her stomach, her face serene, her buttocks clad in knickers the colour of the Virgin Mary’s shawl, but also by Jay Z, who points to yonder star and says he and she are “blessed”.
‘Sun Doctor’ Carol Cooper, who hasn’t treated the happy couple, sees fit to opine that at 35 years old Beyonce faces “a few extra risks” – but overlooks the effects of any stress triggered by the NE’s news that ‘aspiring rapper Rymir Satterthwaite, 23’ thinks Jay Z’s his dad. Rymir’s demanding Jay X takes a DNA test
But before the test is taken and the results are known, judgement has been passed. “Beyonce’s turned a blind eye to Jay Z’s past affairs,” says an unnamed source, “but this is the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’s ready to slap him with divorce papers!”
Is Jay Z Rymir’s mother? Did Jay Z impregnate Rymir’s mother, Wander? Is Beyonce’s womb just one more arena on the couple’s global stadium tour?
The tabloids focus as much on Rory McGrath’s blameless wife Nicola as they do on the “TV star” (Sun) found guilty at Huntington magistrates’ court of harassing a former mistress.
“Wife stands by comedian,” says the Express front-page. “Incredible forgiveness of TV comic Rory’s wife,” says the Mail on it front page. “Astonishing forgiveness of allen TV star Rory’s wife,” the Mail adds over two more pages.
“Wife’s pain as McGrath is guilty of terrorising ex.. but he grins as he dodges jail,” says the Mirror on is front page, words below a picture of Nicole being kissed on the head by her wayward husband.
He is “smiling Roy McGrath”. She is “tearful Nicola”. Over pages 4 and 5, McGrath’s crimes are laid out. He “followed his victim in the street and she saw him in bushes. He threatened to send explicit pics to her husband.”
But it’s Nicola the tabloids look to for an angle. McGrath’s lawyer gives them grist for the mill by telling the court: “Their relationship is healing and [Nicola’s] ability to be magnanimous and understand his conduct is nothing short of phenomenal.”
Alison Phillips (Mirror) looks at Nicola and attempts reads her mind. “She may forgive but can she forget?” she wonders. We doubt it. But Nicola McGrath is 61 and maybe with time and old age she’ll forget where she put her glasses and that her husband was shagging a younger woman for years and then harassed her after she broke up with him. “This tragic situation is far from over,” oozes Phillips with cod sympathy.
Only the Sun focuses on McGrath. He is alone on the cover. “TV RORY STALKED SECRET LOVER,” runs the headline. There is no mention of Nicola, who played no role in his crimes. Over pages 4 and 5, readers get “Stalking hame of Besotted Love Cheat Comic.”
And that’s it. The Sun gets it. The man’s to blame. Why he wanted sex with a much younger woman and she wanted sex with a famous man is hard to fathom. Why the criminal’s wife is still with him is her own business.
George Michael’s body is being “Held By Police”, says the Star. “Funeral is on hold over drug mystery,” adds the teaser.
That this is front-page news might lead readers to suspect and expect the story is a big one. But the rest of it appears on page 15, providing a clue to the story being less than the headline promises.
It’s not the police who have George Michael’s body. It’s the coroner. And Darren Salter, for it is he, is waiting for the results of toxicology tests carried out on the singer. The tests are to ascertain if drugs were a factor in the singer’s death.
This is not unusual. The Ministry of Justice tells us: “After the post-mortem examination the pathologist will send a report to the coroner. The report will give details of the examination, of any tissues and organs retained, and any tests, such as for drugs and blood alcohol level, which have been carried out to help in finding out the cause of death. Sometimes the pathologist’s report may not be available for several weeks.”
But George Michael was star. So in tabloid land his death must be clouded in mystery.
The Sun quotes a “source”. “The investigation is now picking up a bit of speed,” says the unnamed figure. “Officers from the Major Crime Unit have begun asking questions of those who were in the area at the time George died and the day before. They want to build up an idea of what George’s last seven days were like and who came and went.”
Or as Thames Valley police put it: “Mr Michael‘s death is still being treated as unexplained but not suspicious.”
Madonna is going to adopt more children. Yeah, that’s what we thought. But Barron Trump seems pretty happy where he is. No, Madonna is going to adopt two children from Malawi.
Madge is stocking up on antibacterial gel and looking through profiles. (In 2009, Madonna, who has already adopted two children from Malawi, waved her bottle of sanitizer out the limo window as she high-tailed it away from the Home of Hope orphanage.)
The Star says Madonna has flown to the country on a private jet to “thrash out the deal”. The paper says the singer was seen carrying a child from the court, believed to be one of the two she wants to adopt”. Rumours that the child was first baptized in the paddling pool that marks the approach to a public swimming pool are wide of the mark. The smart money is that the child was dunked in a sheep dip.
But hold on. At the end of the Star’s reports” MADGE I’LL ADOPT TWO MORE KIDS”, we hear from Madonna, who says, “The rumours of an adoption process are untrue.”
Such are the facts.
In the twilight area between fact and fiction lies the Daily Star. Today’s Star leads with the sensational news that Donald Trump is “IN CELEBRITY BIG BOTHER”.
Such is the way of Trump, it might be that the thin-skinned reality TV creation is to appear on another reality TV show. But did you spot the pun? Anorak had to read it twice. It’s “BIG BOTHER” not “BIG BROTHER”. And news is that Donald Trump in in trouble because:
a) China has eaten the last creature he wears on his head?
b) There’s a gay sex tape?
c) He’s a jihadi?
d) Madonna is upset?
Yeah, it’s ‘d’. But should there be trade war with China, things might get worse for Trump.
As we’ve noted, Madonna says she is so upset at the result of a legally democratic vote she considered “blowing up the White House“. And no, she wasn’t planning on achieving it by nipping in the back door and pricking her inflated ego. Kaboom! Rhinestone all over the place.
Also unhappy with Trump are: The Edge (from U2, the group front by Bono, aka Mr G21), Natalie Portman, Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus and Amy Schumer.
Does anyone else think the problem celebs have with Trump is not a problem at all. He’s a symbol that what a TV star says matters. Their lives are not just about endorsements for fizzy drinks, the next record / film / miracle baby / diet / gadget and Hillary Clinton. People actually listen to what famous, vain, rich people with zero political nous, diplomatic savvy and military experience say. And what’s more, they vote for them to be President of the US of A!
“Look,” say the A-listers “one of us can get into the White House. Why didn’t my agent tell me?”
Madonna’s just gutted it isn’t her sat in the big chair with a finger on the button. Neither brave nor daring enough to go for the top job, she’s been reduced to playing on as Trump’s support act. No wonder she’s unhappy.
Is Uri Geller a weapon? What about just a bit of a weapon? The Star hears the spoon-bender say he met with the CIA to see if he could be “used as a weapon”.
This is promising idea, readers. If the UK pulls out of the European Union, as now seems highly likely, we’ll be forced to repatriate the myriad ‘stars’ in the Celebrity Silo just outside Brussels. What better way to kill two bids with one stone – and, Orville, we’re talking to you – than by spicing up any trade wars by sending Geller and more to Paris on a trebuchet?
The Mirror has the same story, only now it’s an “exclusive”. In the “CIA Geller files”, the celebrity who “seemingly bends spoons with his mind” tells the paper that in 1972 “the CIA tested me at Stanford Research Institute and I passed under laboratory conditions, twice.” He says he was also tested at the American Surface Weapons Center in Maryland and the Lawns Livermore Radiation Labs. “They wanted to seem if my mind could trigger a nuclear weapons.”
Geller’s testing is part of 800,000 files – 13 million pages – of declassified documents released online yesterday.
In one experiment a researcher picked a word at random. Another researcher draw a picture inspired by it and stuck it on a wall outside outside Geller’s room. Geller was then invited to reproduce it. The Mirror says he identified “bunch” by drawing a bunch of grapes and “fuse” by drawing a firecracker. The Mirror does not say how many he got wrong. But the Times says: “Sometimes his efforts were hopelessly off but others proved eerily accurate.”
We don’t know if Geller can fire a nuclear weapon with his mind, but knowing Donald Trump can fire one with his little finger is far more impressive and almost nearly as worrying.
You know Celebrity Big Brother is dead when something better and harder-edged comes along to replace it. The Star trails the new show on its cover: “VIOLENT BBC STAR PULLED OUT Of HOUSE – Locked in ‘padded cell’ by security.” Slap a few cameras on the walls and you’ve a new take on Bedlam, the Bethlem Royal Hospital, where the insane were locked inside to be gawped at by the well of mind and examined by the sinister.
And the language hasn’t changed much since those dark days in the history of mental health treatment. “Bonkers Kim Woodburn,” begins the Star’s story. After or during a televised “row” with Jamie O’Hara, a former footballer once married to serial footballer-dater Danielle Lloyd, “the wild-eyed How Clean is Your House? star” [answer: it’s ****ing filthy] was “locked in a side room”, where she remained for the rest of the night.
Peering down at the CBB Petri Dish, we also learn that O’Hara “got hot and steamy” with Bianca Gascoigne, former footballer Paul Gascoigne’s step-daughter. “Producers think it is a matter of time before a full-blown romp,” we’re told.
We’ll leave you with César de Saussure’s account of Bedlam during his 1725 tour of London’s sights.
…either side of which are a large number of little cells where lunatics of every description are shut up, and you can get a sight of these poor creatures, little windows being let into the doors. Many inoffensive madmen walk in the big gallery. On the second floor is a corridor and cells like those on the first floor, and this is the part reserved for dangerous maniacs, most of them being chained and terrible to behold. On holidays numerous persons of both sexes, but belonging generally to the lower classes, visit this hospital and amuse themselves watching these unfortunate wretches, who often give them cause for laughter. On leaving this melancholy abode, you are expected by the porter to give him a penny but if you happen to have no change and give him a silver coin, he will keep the whole sum and return you nothing
Bonkers and Bonkers is coming to a screen near you soon.
The Daily Star presses f9 on the keyboard and gargles up news on Katie Price, the former glamour model “BACK IN CELEBRITY BIG BROTHER”. For those of you not watching the current series of CBB – yes, it’s still on – the knackered show features lots of Z-listers who unable to achieve lasting fame based on any talent have slinked back inside the house. CBB is a repeat, in much the way TV panel shows are: the same faces making familiar comments to deadline.
Given ubiquitous Katie’s busy home life, a few weeks on CBB must be akin to passing time in a retreat away from the public eye.
But she’s not on CBB. The Star’s headline contains a caveat: Katie will return to the show if “telly bosses hand her a huge fee”. How likely that is depends on the current crop of no-marks’ ability to entertain.
Over pages 4 and 5, the Star lets us know how that’s panning out. There is, as ever there was, talk of a “race row”. Apparently Stacy Francis was “edited out”. It might be an idea to first introduce the woman you can’t see (you can). Stacy is not former footballer Trevor Francis’ daughter, stretching the football gene that offers CBB beds and board to Paul Gascoigne’s step-daughter and George Best’s son. Stacey appeared on the X Factor’s US version.
Over in the Sun, we learn that Francis is embroiled in a “HOMOPHOBIC ROW”.
The tabloids look for racism and homophobia in a talent show contestant’s dust, supporting their front-page shockers with comments from Outraged of Twitter and viewers unable to notice that anyone watching CBB in the hope of being anything but offended is propped up on pills and pillows in an institution with the remote control just out of reach.
It’s pretty clear that CBB and its tabloid partners need Pricey. And when she enters the house by the revolving door Katie will spark controversy. She has made remarks about Calum Best – “comments too rude for a family newspaper.” But surely ok for one with a topless stunna on page 3 and adverts for onanists to get “quick relief” via phones and hardcore porn channels? Sadly no. The Star doesn’t share the comments. You’ll have to wait until Katie struts onto the CBB stage to hear them. Or watch recordings of her from a pervious show.
The post-mortem on George Michael’s body failed to establish a cause of death. There will be further tests. The police are not treating it as suspicious.
But the tabloids know why George Michael died. “Tragic George ‘Killed Himself’,” states the Star’s cover story. “Singer ‘wanted to die’.”
You might think George Michael’s life anything but tragic. Feted, celebrated, admired and adored by many, the singer was a superstar. The Star writes a narrative allegedly fed by a Twitter account apparently linked to Fadi Fawaz, Michael’s boyfriend, who, as the Times notes, found the singer “lying peacefully” in bed at his 16th-century cottage in Goring-on-Thames, Oxfordshire.
The paper broadcasts the tweets: “the only thing George wanted is to DIE”; “he tried numbers of time to kill himself many times…”; “and finally he managed…” All troubling. And then below a picture of Fadi walking the Star supplies the caption: “Fadi claims he is hacking victim”.
The Sun, which also leads with the story of a tweet, says Fadi Fawaz’s profile has been “quickly deleted”.
He says he didn’t send those tweets.
The Mirror wrings more from “the mystery”. In “Final hours of pop legend” the paper thunders : “GEORGE’S LOVER: I SLEPT IN MY CAR AS HE DIED ALONE.” Farwaz tells the paper: “I did not send those tweets.” The Mirror then says, “It is unclear why he spent the night apart from his 53-year-old lover”. Farwz says, “I fell asleep in my car and I never saw him that night.”
For those of you seeking more official action, it’s worth noting what else the Mirror reports: “Fadi was pictured buying coffee on Christmas Eve from a shop near George’s home… He was wearing sandals and socks.”
Were his feet hacked? Or is it now fashionable to dress like a summering vicar on a Norfolk beach?
The mystery continues.
What’s Simon Cowell up to these days? The Mirror told readers on December 6: “It’s a Cowell family Christmas as Simon ditches harem of ex’s to spend Xmas with Lauren and Eric.” Bethany Minelle had the inside track on Cowell’s crimbo.
Simon Cowell has already organised his Christmas relaxation this year – and for once he won’t be spending it on a yacht filled with glamorous ex girlfriends.
The Mail’s Charlotte Griffiths agreed, noting on December 4:
Simon’s ‘harem’ has been dealt a devastating blow after the X Factor tycoon ditched his playboy image and told them: Sorry, Christmas is cancelled.
And so to today’s new in the Daily Star. In “Simon soaks up fun”, we read: “Simon Cowell relaxed on a luxury yacht with a bevy of babes, including his partner and his ex.” Simon “frolicked” with current flame Lauren Silverman, their son Eric, his former lover Sinitta and “pals”.
Such are the facts.
Strictly Come Dancing winner Ore Oduba is flanked by two blondes on the Mail’s cover. To his right is wife Portia. To his left is dance partner Joanne Clifton. “Strictly champ: I’ve neglected my wife,” declares the headline. Readers begin to wonder if the show was a mating ritual. Is sexual intrigue in the air?
Over pages 12 and 13 we get more. “Now I’ve got time for my wife!” thunders the headline.
“Oduba and his wife Portia – he’s identified by surname; she, who never competed but remained blonde throughout the pro-celebrity dance show, we meet on first-name terms – “have been married for less than a year”. The paper quickly picks up on the moment of Ore’s triumph, when he “looked straight into dance partner Joanne Clifton’s eyes and said, ‘I love you with all my heart’ as he held up the glitterball trophy.”
This was, says Laura Lambert. just another example of the 30-year-old BBC sports presenter’s “emotional side”. No kidding. But “once the cameras stopped rolling he was virtually inseparable from his wife.” But, boy, how he tried to shake her. No, only joking.
As for that suggestive front-page headline. when asked what he’d be up to over Christmas, Ora replied, “I’ve neglected my family. Same for Jo, we’ve been working so hard.”
In the Mirror, Ore reveals his “extraordinary journey”. We learn that Portia, a TV researcher, is based in Manchester, keeping her away from Ore as he trained for the show in London. They met at University. They were married in a “lavish” bash in Kent. Very soon they hope to start a family. Ore’s dad is a leading lawyer in Nigeria. Ore went to the very expensive Dumpton school in Dorset, a prep school for the even more pricey Canford public school. And that’s it. The extraordinary story is anything but. Public school boys meets Portia from Tunbridge Wells and gets a job at the BBC.
There will be movies.
Unless it’s all remarkable because Ore is black? Is that the key part of Ore’s “incredible life story” the Mirror trails on its cover? The Sun says it might be. A “source” says “because he’s a black presenter, the BBC has another incentive to given him more prominence within the channel.”
One minute you’re presenting daytime insurance programme Claimed and Shamed, the next you’re a symbol, an inspiration for the ‘black community’ and an ambulatory swivel-hipped message. It’s less a back story than it is a black story. And it’s pathetic.
If Ore is on a “journey” he might want to check if he’s allowed to sit at the front of the bus.
David and Victoria Beckham “pimped out Cruz for Xmas,” declares the Daily Star. The 11-year-old has released a Christmas single. And morning TV presenter Piers Morgan is aghast. Morgan says the “sickening” and “cynical” single is a “tool” to “boost Brand Beckham”.
Consider it boosted. On page 3, there’s more on Cruz and his new manager, a bloke called Scooter who also manages Justin Bieber.
The Mirror leads with “Too young?”, inviting readers to consider if the world needs another child singing sensation with a Christmas hit. Wasn’t the St Winifred’s School Choir’s seasonal smash hit There’s No One Quite Like Grandma enough?
Over pages 14 and 15, the Mirror asks, “Is it too soon for Cruz Beckham to be a Spice Boy?”
As the Mirror considers the 11-year-old’s career to date – miracle birth; being given a surname for a first name; growing hair; 7 times table – deep in the story we learn that Cruz is doing it for charity. Proceeds from his song will help disadvantaged young children.
Would you see Cruz silenced and the bairns go without? It’s not about him. It’s about them. Although it might really be about Piers Morgan.
Now that Scarlett Moffatt is a bonafide celebrity on account of her victory in I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here!, instead of just a ‘normal’ young woman watching them on the Gogglebox telly, the tabloids set about here. Over pages 4 and 5, the Star labels Scarlett a “Fake”. “Lift selfies show champ was milking it big time,” says one headline. “Queen Scarlett Faked Her Fear,” thunders another.
Scarlett Moffatt and Vicky Pattison have “kicked off a fierce rivalry” we’re told. How so? “Last year’s winner [that’s Vicky] was blasted for ‘plonking’ the crown on new queen Scarlett’s head.” And that’s not all. At the after show party Vicky and Scarlett “were not snapped together”.
Having positioned two young women as catty rivals – plus ca change – the Star then turns to the fakery. “Apparently pictures of Scarlett in a lift prove she was faking it when she told her “celebrity pals throughout the show she had a phobia of confined spaces”. You might argue that being “sealed inside a coffin like space” and “covered in creepy-crawlies” is not quite the same as pouting in a lift. But Scarlett is quoted as having said: “I feel I can do this because I might finally be able to go in lifts.”
Like Tom Cruise’s lifts, what goes up, will eventually come down, so we get news that this is “the latest in a string of claims that the show was fixed in her favour.” You mean it’s edited? You mean it’s not a fly on the gonads slice of life? You mean focusing on the single young woman gets more viewers than listening to the sixty-something bit-part EastEnders actor moaning at the needy middle-aged bloke off the mid-morning property show?
I mean would Danny Baker be subject to the Sun’s front-page headline, “I’ll spend winnings on caravan and new boobs”? Says Danny, sorry Scarlett: “Now thats I’ve lost weight, and my titties are cleaning my shoes, I would like them lifted to where they are meant to be.” All over Page 3?
And on the Mirror’s Page 1, where the boring bloke whose girlfriend shagged John Terry (allegedly), sorry, Scarlett is talking of her fantasy “Willy Wonka wedding”. She wants a wedding just like Jordan and Peter Andre’s do. Yeh, she wants OK! to pay for it.
Of course Scarlett was installed as ITV’s preferred winner. The rest of them were a mixture of man-children, TV-creations with lower profiles than a soup spoon and dullards. As the Sun says, out of 500 visits to the Bush Telegraph room, “whip-smart” Scarlett made 104 of them. She talked to us. And we enjoyed listening to her.
“Find out what Scarlett Moffat will not next,” says the Daily Star on its front page. Judging by the picture of the Googlebox star and now I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! winner in her bra and knickers, we’d says ‘put some cloths on’ or ‘catch a cold’. On page 4 and 5, Scarlett is a “Celebridey”. Aha! She’s going to get married!
Scarlett Moffatt is “heading down the aisle”, says the paper in an “exclusive”. Well, it is to anyone not following Luke Crodden, Scarlett’s boyfriend, on twittter, and didn’t see him tweet: “I think I wanna marry you @ScarlettMoffatt.” If that was a proposal, it’s one Scarlett didn’t see on account of her being in a televised jungle clearing with neither phone signal nor phone.
The Mirror, which also leads with Scarlett, says she’s in line for a £1m deal. In an “exclusive” Halina Watts, says Scarlett has “revealed her big plan for the future – to team up with Ant and Dec. Imagine handing out with those boys all day and having a laugh,”says Scarlett, exclusively in the Mirror. “I’d love it.”
That’s not all that exclusive to Daily Star readers who read the exact same dream on November 22, then billed as her “threesome” with Ant and Dec. Scarlett fans will have read that before when she said it in her book published last April.
Over in the Star, we read that Scarlett is due to earn £1m in endorsements and TV deals. As well she might. Last year’s I’m A Celebrity winner Vicky Pattison told the Mirror in March 2016: “I’ve just about hit the 7-figure mark for the first time. But I’m being wise with my money. I’ve been very well advised and I’m turning myself into a bit of a property tycoon.”
Find out what Scarlett does next by visiting her local estate agency.
Stage school kids and pushy parents, listen up. Stop sharpening your elbows and start smiling beatifically.Lady Gaga has arrived in London. And she has a message, as told in the Guardian:
Singer says money and celebrity have been put on a pedestal, and the happiest people are in the poorest parts of the world
And stinking rich, super-celebrated, fame-hungry Lady Gaga, whose every outfit and manifestation seems to be the product of a focus group, should know.
Lady Gaga has denounced the evils of money and fame as she promoted her new album on the roof of one of Britain’s biggest shopping centres.
Lady Gaga looked down on the masses and told them to be as happy as pigs in the brown stuff. She might even envy you. Only recently Lady Gaga was so upset she touched a rubbish truck outside Trump Tower. The Guardian holds its nose and writes:
The singer, who has an estimated net worth of more than $250m (£200m), performed for an audience of competition winners at Westfield shopping centre in Shepherd’s Bush, west London, on Thursday night.
The revolution will be endorsed.
In its front-page farewell to Andrew Sachs, known chiefly for his work as Manuel, the well-intentioned and hapless Spanish waiter in Fawlty Towers, the Mail juxtaposes the actor’s portrait by the news “MIGRANT NUMBERS HIT NEW RECORDS”.
The Mail fails to say how many migrants hail from Barcelona.
PS: Andrew Sachs was born in Berlin in 1930.