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.
Interestingly, 12 years is no time at all, and if you wait long enough your wardrobe will come en vogue.
But we demur to the Mirror’s central point and see Her Poshness stood before a mirror applying lipstick to her lips, which for ease of identification Posh pushes forward and apart.
Unavoidably, Posh has a new bob hairstyle (circa 1995). Her acrylic nails are long gone and her fake back has made way for a natural “Californian glow” ™.
Vicky is said to be perfecting her look in accordance with her book The Extra Half Inch (see lips).
Writes Vicky: “In the last edition of the book I said I was wary of tops with horizontal stripes. But I couldn’t resist that gorgeous striped dress for the cover shoot.”
The dress may or may not be second-hand, or vintage as it is known among the cognoscenti. Without the benefit of a sniff, we can be uncertain if this is the same dress that was once sported as a top by Terry Fenwick in his Queen’s Park Rangers pomp.
More to follow…
Jamie is in full political bent. Tony Blair’s administration did not just spawn weapons of mass destruction, Leo Blair and a spiritual reawakening among Cliff Richard fans. It coincided with the rise of Jamie Oliver.
Oliver met with Tony, and you can hear the former leader’s influence in Jamie’s outline for the future of the country.
As Oliver tells readers: “I always knew School Dinners would take ten years to come to fruition so it doesn’t bother me – I know it will come good.”
What doesn’t bother Jamie is that many children don’t like school dinners all that much, and prefer to gain sustenance form outside catering facilities.
But it is the ten year plan that stands out. Readers may recall Tony’s own ten-year plan for an integrated transport policy. That began in 1997 and comes to fruition on December 31 this year when Reading station gets a new replacement bus service to Newbury and the Wiltshire hinterlands.
Lifted by this success, Oliver is moving into education. Or education, education, education – a starter, main and pudding of a policy.
Oliver thinks a class talking about “life skills, common sense and cooking” should be in the syllabus.
“I’m concerned if we don’t get the classroom stuff done as well as the school dinners we will be f***** in 20 years time – just like America is now – a health nightmare. We are on the cusp of an epidemic, it really is that serious.”
With a nod to William Hague, Jamie says “it should be about common sense”.
Jamie is cultivating cross-party support. “Gordon, please,” says Jamie, “you know it makes sense.”
The doom-mongers at LibDem headquarters say that since Jamie started his School Dinners campaign around 400,000 children have shunned the service. Can they be brought on message?
For now, Jamie feels “good about what I did”.
Jamie says he went to Soweto, to an orphanage for Aids children. It was “incredibly emotional”. Using carrot, celery, mince meat and onions, a woman made a stew better than any Jamie has witnessed being made in England in two years.
The massage is clear: we should eat like they do in Soweto. Choice is off. If it’s not on the menu, we don’t do it. End of.
And so to the Jamie O-level. Take a dash of history, a knob of geography, a pinch of salt and a spritz of something special.
Et voila! A vision…
“Everything’s fine,” Chanelle reassures a worried public.
“IS IT COZ I IS BLACK?” The headline is used to illustrate a picture to Charley Itchea pointing finger at a policeman’s stab vest.
She was arrested after a “foul-mouthed rant”.
Charley is with her sister Jade and someone who answers to the name CeCe.
Jordan is driving a silver mini. She runs a red light at a set to temporary lights in Loughton, Essex.
The girls arrive at the bar. They girls have a drink. The girls leave the local bar. They drive for 50 yards. A police car follows. The police pull the car over.
“This is f***ing racist,” says Charley… It’s a f***ing disgrace.”
She offers that “every policeman in Loughton is racist”. And: This would not happen where I’m from.” Good to hear that the police in Charley’s south London manor are not racist, at last not all of them.
In any case, Loughton is a “sh*thole,” says Charley in her travelogue.
She concludes her Essex meet-and-greet with the time honoured: “Don’t you know who I am?”
Carole is to appear on Kent’s Radio Invicta. “We think her humour and her intelligence would make her a really good presenter,” says a spokesman.
“I’ve been blessed with so many marvellous opportunities thanks to the Star,” says Carole.
As the Star announces via its front page: “BIG BRO 8 STAR SIGNS ON DOLE.”
“I’m totally skint,” says the reality TV icon.
Turning the page readers learn that the Big Bother benefits scrounger is Carole Vincent. “I’m now more skin than before,” says Carole.
How different it all seemed when Carole entered the Big Brother house back in May. Her catchphrase, “If you want an argument, I’m the f****** argument!”, was all set to be the nation’s number one pre-recorded prank call and ringtone.
But we should have realised Carole was unlucky when we learnt that she operated as an unemployed sexual health worker from East London.
How was this possible? Old Mr Anorak, no stranger to matters of sexual illness, scoffed at hearing that and regaled the Anorak typing pool with tales of the time he brought his Thai Ladies’ ping-pong team to the Hackney Downs baths.
Carole says he wants to produce sex education videos. This may necessitate Carole wearing a bra and knickers set in the mode of a more successful Big Brother product.
And demanding money with menaces…
It seems that children don’t all like eating polenta and coucous and like to eat crisps, chips and foot-long chocolate bars.
Says Oliver: “If the kids won’t come to you, take the food to the kids with satellite kitchens that can go in the playground.”
These are known in the TV business as carting vans and to late-night drinkers as the last resort.
Oliver is right, of course. In this fair and free land the kids should be locked up and made to eat what is handed to them in a Government-sanctioned canteen on pain of starvation.
Some will try to escape. And being so very thin they may well wriggle out between the bars.
But they won’t get far.
The idea is being considered in Denbighshire, North Wales, where the local Welsh nationalists have been informed that all sweet shops and takeaways are owned by English barons.
They are being firebombed as we write…
Now rid of her Big Brother pilchard suit and fraying cheese-wire thong, the show’s Chanelle Hayes is exploring the possibilities of knickers, bras and their many combinations and variants.
Today Chanelle has opted to appear on the Star’s cover page clad in a pair of back lacy knickers and a bra that she has pulled down and tucked into her fishnet stockings.
There is every reason to believe Chanelle’s time in Big Brother captivity has altered her perceptions and she is no longer like the rest of us.
Tuck your vest into your Y-fronts by all means, but bra into long socks gives cause for worry.
Undoubtedly the psychologists that agonised over Chanelle’s mental health on Big Brother On The Couch are shaking their heads and making copious notes about Chanelle’s abandonment issues.
And the Star seems to be feeding that mania as it announces: “CHANELLE MY S&M PLANS FOR ZIGGY.”
Of course, the legend should read “CHANELLE MY M&S PLANS FOR ZIGGY” and feature Chanelle is product placement pose for the country’s premier supplier of undergarments.
But we will not criticise, get our knickers in a twist. We only wish Chanelle every success with her nascent career and look forward to seeing her in all manner of underwear in the near future…
The Enquirer is there with the truth and hears the actor yell: “I killed Princess Diana!”
No, not really. That was just our guess. Indeed a quick survey of the Anorak typing pool threw up suicide bed suggestions “Oprah smells of cats!”, “Let’s nuke Canada” and “Elton…that you?”
The truth is no less sensational as the Enquirer hears Wilson scream: “I want to die!”
The Enquirer hears all. But the irony is that Wilson was suicidal because – get his – he felt so alone and had no lover in his life.
We join the action as Andrew Wilson, Owen’s older brother, finds the actor “bloody and incoherent” at his Santa Monica home.
A source says that after an hour Andrew called the emergency services. The medics arrived. And Owen gave full throat to the tagline “I want to die”.
But even the stars cannot get all they want all the time and the medics inserted a saline drip in the Owen body and staved off his demise for a later date.
Owen Wilson would live. He would start life afresh. He would be Owen II: The Rehab.
Working title ‘My girlfriend won’t take me back”, starring Kate Hudson…
Looking like a cross between Bette Midler (when thin) and Alma Cogan (when alive), Winehouse is met by the line: “Lots of people talk about your drinking…”
“Yes,” replies Winehouse, “bored people.”
Instead of that boring chat, Winehouse tells us that when she goes “training” she is “lovely to be around”.
Training for popstars, one imagines, consists of putting in the hard yards between bars and drug dens. But Winehouse is a rebel of her age and for her training means going to the gym. To exercise.
“But then there’s the other days like I had to go to work and I said to my manager’s assistant: ‘Can you get me some mini Jack Daniel’s please, I just want three or four then I’ll be sweet as a nut.’”
Not the litre bottle? Right… Can we talk about..?
“I wasn’t even crying, I was like: ‘Listen, if you want to have a nice day, please got me some alcohol.’ By two bottles done I was like yes!”
Back to your life. There was the reha..
“I’ve had phases in my life where I wake up and all I want to do is drink alcohol, but that was…”
But aside from the drinking there’s…
“Normal people spend time thinking, what am I going to do with my life? I spend time drinking.”
And talking about drinking…
No time to waste. Fame’s clock counts down not up, ending not with the sound of detonating hopes and smashed dreams but silence as the phone stops ringing and a muffled yawn.
The minutes are ticking by and here are Ziggy and Chanelle tying the knot.
OK! is there to see all. It invites us inside their “DREAM CASTLE WEDDING”.
Ziggy is dressed as all OK! grooms must be in white, how one imagines the Pillsbury Doughboy would dress for his big day in court.
To his right sits Chanelle. Like her idol Victoria Beckham, Chanelle is sat on a throne. It might be the very throne Her Poshness sat upon.
Inside the castle and Ziggy and Chanelle are sharing an intimate moment. He is pushing his nose into her right eye. She is looking enraptured.
Then they are in the garden, reprising the moment when Day-vid dressed in Little Jimmy Osmond’s cast offs and went down on both knees.
Chanelle then puts on a tiara that seems to be made from the wire from atop the champagne cork.
They cut a cake with a sword. The blade looks rusty. As do the couple who though sat by an altar, and Ziggy is reading a prayer book, fail to actually marry.
And we realise that what we are watching is not the wedding of Chanelle and Ziggy but a visual echo from Posh and Becks’ prototype do.
And now the couple are crossing a bridge in New York…
Thankfully, Lisa Marie Presley does not work alone. Elvis’s fans help to keep the legend alive by oozing their bloated bodies into white trouser suits with rhinestone batwings and sweating under the lights of the Balti Curry Inn, Surbiton.
Few depart from the proscribed Elvis look, not daring to portray Elvis in his thinner years lest they appear guilty of heresy or going off-brand.
So it understandable Lisa Marie is “livid” that her father’s memory is being sullied.
As the Enquirer reports, Elvis and his pelvis are being employed to sell erectile dysfunction medication.
The mind boggles to suppose any Elvis fan needs such potions. The opening refrain to Good Rockin’ Tonight is thought to have created more human life than the entire Tommy Steele back catalogue and Dr Robert Winston combined.
But times move. And now Viva Las Vegas has been mutilated to Viva Viagra.
That this outrage should coincide with the 30th anniversary of Elvis’ death in a Paris tunnel is too bad. That it should coincide with his duet with daughter Lisa is shameful.
Lisa’s close harmony rendering of In The Ghetto, with her father in animatronic support, is both tasteful and what Elvis would have wanted.
If Elvis were alive he’d be 72 and able to stick up for himself…
“BRAD GEARS UP FOR CUSTODY BATTLE!” announces the Enquirer’s front page. “His plans for the kids if they split!”
Aniston is standing up. She’s holding an oar. She’s ponting in Hawaii.
Can she get to Hollywood in time to catch Pitt should he leave Jolie? Will Brad and Ange carve up the world between them, he getting the white and Hispanic children, she the black and Asian? Will Aniston blend in?
The Enquirer’s source says that should Pitt and his lover split and should he want custody of their daughter Shiloh and should a plague of frogs not descend on Beverly Hills “she would fight tooth and nail to keep her family intact”.
Looking at the Jolie oeuvre, we suggest Pitt should watch out for the Jolie heel to the throat and for the roving UN goodwill ambassador’s bony parts, of which there are several.
But what of this home life? We learn that Maddox, Child No.1, has apparently become a little spoilt. Only a little you gasp. You shut up your mouth and shake your head.
If Maddox is to survive in the Hollywood Hills, he needs to up his game. More toys for the young master. As many grasshoppers as he can eat. A night out with Kelly Osbourne must be booked.
Against this is Brad who wants to instil a sense of discipline in young Maddox.
“Angie thinks he’s too tough on Maddox, but she seethes when Brad tries to enforce any discipline,” says the source.
And here comes Aniston. She’s ready to put her oar in…
“We didn’t get to sleep till gone 3am,” says Chanelle on the Star’s cover page. No wonder. The celebrity buzz sounds like a mosquito at close quarters. One day Chanelle will never sleep at all and will be forced to resort to prescription drugs and daytime telly to gain any respite from fame’s demands.
For now though she is relaxing in the arms of her lover Ziggy. “We both really want to give this a go,” says Ziggy.
And there is much more to say. On page 2, Chanelle says: “It was a really magical night of love …but both of use feared we would be called into the Dairy Room.”
Chanelle was worried that she was being watched. “Then I remember I went to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I heard this click and I jumped, thinking a camera was homing in on me.”
Relief to find herself wrong and that the Star has not delved into more esoteric fetishism, it’s photographer remaining in the hotel room proper waiting for Chanelle to emerge dressed in a thong and dry hump Ziggy.
Pages 5 and 6, Ziggy is “THE PERFECT HUNK”. And like a young Antony Armstrong-Jones he cuddles his Posh bird, aka Chanelle.
Ziggy pops open the champagne and kisses his lover on the head.
And we hear the buzz as the flash gun warms up once more…
THAT it should come to this, a choice between Brian and Samanda.
Brian has goodness on his side. Untainted by life and untouched by knowledge, Brian is the idiot savant, the innocent doing battle with the forces of undiluted evil.
Samanda – see how she multiplies! – is two.
Right bow Brian stands only a 5-1 chance of success. Not too shabby but he was hot favourite for so long. Hot favourite right up until the point Amanda fluttered her eyelids at him (and a hurricane hit Jamaica).
Now Brian is adrift and Samanda is 7/5. The hope for Brian is that Samanda splits the vote.
But they won’t. The suspicion is that rather than vote for one or the other the voting public will vote for both. The masses are undecided and unable to spot any difference between the two.
But the warriors are choosing their sides for the final conflict. Liam, Ziggy and Jonty are all discussing nominations in the house and all think Brian (“number six”) should win.
Carole looks over at the twins. They don’t move. Some say they never move. Some say they never blink. Some say they are old crones trapped in the bodies of two two blonde owls.
“Just enjoy it tomorrow. One of the best days of your life that will be,” says Carole, who has taken to speaking like a witch in Macbeth.
Says Carole: “They’re not voting you out so much, they’re voting you to win”.
Carole talks in riddles. And a nervous world waits…
IT looked so good for Brian for so long.
His clockwork walk, his self-mutilated hair and his “Shut uuuup!” retort to just about anything that shocked him (the Earth is round, EastEnders is a work of fiction, so too Romeo and Juliet) were endearing. Among a bad lot, Brian was the winner elect.
And then Amanda got to work on him. Dressed in her knickers and singlet she told him how lovely he was. She liked his sexy chin. She loved him.
And Brian glazed over. He was in love. Shut up!
And then after one kiss in the caravan, it was over. Amanda cooled the romance. Whenever Brian approached she went rigid. One step closer and snakes would emerge from her mouth or else she dissolve into a pile of sand and be sucked into the lounge by her sister’s breath.
Brian was Andrew McCarthy in Mannequin, albeit with a dummy that remained dumb and inanimate.
Brian was left high and dry and bereft of his spark.
And Amanda – oh, you know what’s coming. She became the show’s favourite to win. Such a nice girl Amanda, so easy to rub long with and not in the least bit manipulative.
Brian is now out to 6-1 to win the show. And Amanda is at 2.42, narrowly ahead of her gormless owl-faced sister on 2.44.
No-one should vote for them. But out of fear, we will…
SAMANDA (Mark I and II) and Brian are dead certs to finish the show in the top four. All are 1-50 on. Past them there is Liam. About as complex as the wood he prunes, Liam would be happy if he were kicked out now. With £100,000 tucked in his canny pocket, and a duet with Ziggy on the way (you heard that here first), Liam will meet loadsa canny lasses and have a canny time. He’s 1.6 to finish in the lead quartet.
All that can stop Liam is Ziggy, who by rights should win the show. Ziggy entered the house some time in 2001 as a charmer to date all eleven women. He achieved this without lewdness, crudeness or embarrassment. He then managed to pull the better looking housemate. Sure his expression is careworn, his skin showing signs of acid peel fatigue, but he is a survivor. And at 2.56 for a top four spot, he’s worth a look.
Behind him is Jonty. At 10-1, Jonty is a bet too far. Intended to be Big Brother’s David Gest, the plug-headed former Mr Liza Minnelli who charmed us on I’m A Celebrity, Jonty has largely communicated by a series of bum trumpets and belches.
And then there is Carole who we are told needs to win because she lives in an upturned shopping basket in Hackney. This should have no bearing on her chances. Big Brother is all about what occurs in the house. At 17.5 on the markets, she will be next to leave (1.41), a canny lass pushing along a cart full of tin cans…
IT was a game of 14 weeks. Fair dos:
BIG stack, littel stack, cardboard bed…
And do you hear? The blonde twins, 19, are being lined up for a music deal targeted at the teen market, according to what tabloid types call “BB insiders”.
The twins sang dressed as Katie Andre in a task at the weekend. The twins. Katie and her gigantic Jordans. Geddit?
We listened. And then we began to believe. We belieeeved. Do you belieeeeve? Samanda are favourites to win. Samanda is in to 2.7 on the Betfair markets.
Happy days. And the weather is balmy. The sun is out. Before Samanda was the No.1 the days were moist, the nights dark and cold. We had not seen wet and wind like it since Johnny Morris talked with the animals.
Vote Samanda to win, or pay terrible price in storms and all manner of strange happenings…
TOP 50 SEXIEST MEN ON THE PLANET
1. Brad Pitt
2. David Beckham
3. George Clooney
4. Johnny Depp
5. Daniel Craig
6. Benicio Del Toro
7. Justin Lee Collins
8. Freddie Ljungburg
9. Alex Zane
10. Gordon Ramsey
11. Ziggy Lichman
12. Sean Connery
13. Julian McMahon
14. Robert Kazinsky
15. James McAvoy
16. Johnny Wilkinson
17. Keifer Sutherland
18. Nigel Harman
19. David Gandy
20. Christiano Ronaldo
21. Matt Damon
22. Collin Farrell
23. Thierry Henry
24. Ricky Gervais
25. Jeremy Clarkson
26. Lewis Hamilton
27. Steve Jones
28. David Walliams
29. Dermot O’Leary
30. Jay Z
31. Jamie Foxx
32. Rob Lowe
33. Wentworth Miller
34. Hugh Jackman
35. Hugh Grant
36. Vernon Kay
37. Prince Harry
38. Jessie Metcalf
39. Antonio Banderas
40. Piers Morgan
41. Phil Spencer
42. Kelly Jones
43. Orlando Bloom
44. Michael Parkinson
45. Simon Cowell
46. Robbie Williams
47. Jenson Button
48. P Diddy
49. Will Smith
50. Chris Moyles
CHANELLE Hayes. She’s here. She’s there. She’s in her underwear.
And Chanelle is not just for now but for Christmas, when she will still be famous. Really. No joke. Chanelle is working on her official 2008 calendar.
She tells the Daily Star: “I’m loving doing all these shoots and stuff but I don’t think I will ever be a real model. I just don’t think I am pretty enough. Who’s going to want to look at me?”
The question is who is going to want to look at her come April next year when Chanelle’s calendar is in fame’s bargain bucket with Cute Kittens 2008, Pete Bennett 2006 and Jade Goody (2002-2007).
If Chanelle is to achieve a more lasting fame she needs a more lasting talent. So here she is on the Star’s lead page (dressed in matching knickers and bra set) alongside the headline: “CHANELLE & ZIGGY’S SECRET NIGHT OF SEX.”
The Star trusts its readers not to tell Ziggy (119-1 to win) that Chanelle is planning to woo him over a bottle of champagne and a copy of their OK! magazine contract.
Chanelle has belatedly realised that walking out of the house in a tizz put an end to Chiggy, her wet-blanket of a relationship with Ziggy.
“Things did get hot and bothered with all that kissing,” says Chanelle. “He’s a good kisser.”
And she wants more of the same. A “source close to the blonde” tells the Star: “There’s no way Ziggy will turn down a night with Chanelle. He’ll have the time of this life.”
Ziggy has had around 50 nights with Chanelle. We watched them all on CCTV.
Why he would now want to have a secret night with Chanelle is open to debate.
But Chanelle has pencilled him in for later this week.
He won’t go tonight – Tracey will at 1.42, although Kara-Louise offers better value at 2.54.
Ziggy will go after both of them. Tell Chanelle he’ll be free on Tuesday. She can catch up with him then – if she can run fast enough…
“IT was quite funny when Shanessa was convinced Ziggy was giving her the eye,” says Kara-Louise, a housemate so forgettable they had to name her twice.
You may remember Shanessa as the equal opportunities lapdancer testing the torque of Jennifer Lope’s old stage clothes.
You may, however, not recall who Kara-Loo is. She’s the girl whose response to everything is to show a full set to brilliant white teeth and play with her hair.
You can imagine Kara-Louise’s ma-mum’s parting words as her daughter entered the house: “Remember, Kara-Louise, always smile, always smile. Smile and the world smiles with you, smiles with you.”
This is, of course, bunkum. The line now goes “Smile and the world wonders what you are smiling and if you are laughing at them”.
The world also wonders why your teeth are so white and your skin the colour of a month-old tangerine.
Kara-Louise is 4-1 to be evicted from the show this Friday. Ahead of her is Tracey at 1.24.
But Tracey is on the drift, albeit slightly. What chance that the clockwork orange can beat the cheesy quaver to the door?
The only sure thing seems to be that Jonty (84-1) will be with us next week. That way we can best keep an eye on him…
SAYS Tracey of Kara-Loo: “If she’s not cutting her hair, she’s plucking her arms and I find that quite rude.”
Tracey is 2-13 to be evicted from the house this Friday. And she will go. Kara-Loo can cut all the hair from her entire body and depilate like a Chelsea footballer but she will still outlast Tracey.
What else can you do when sat in a room with Tracey other than pick away at yourself?
Sitting with Tracy is like being with a demented macaw.
KL: Morning Tracey (Grins)
T: ‘Ave it! ‘Ave’ it!
KL: Sleep well? (Grins)
T: Deal with it! Deal with it! ‘Ave it! Deal with it!
No, change that. Tracy is like dealing with a Dalek in the moments after they’ve come a cropper on a step and had their settings moved to “repeat”.
Tracey will leave the house, and what it being a Friday she will eschew the delights of London clubs for a barn in rural Essex.
She will have it in the stack and relive her Big Brother experiences in a house of straw bales with a pouch of smokes and the last of Carole’s full fat milk….
The Sun says the pressure of their infidelities, a miscarriage and Jade having all the charm of last night’s kebab have taken their toll. And Jack and Jade are no longer as one.
A friend tells us: “They have been growing apart for months…Jack is devastated and Jade is inconsolable but both accept that they don’t have a future together.”
How different it all looked when Jack and Jade were in the Big Brother house, she the playground bully, he her mute lover.
Back then they had promise. But now they have only tears, a chance to tell all in a double-page Star feature and memories shaped by back copies of OK!.
To remember in our prayers…
Chanelle prides herself on looking a bit like Her Poshness. She is a Victoria Beckham fan. While the many come to gawp, Chanelle comes to learn and listen.
Chanelle packed her “special medication” and headed to Los Angeles to achieve her “lifetime ambition” and meet her heroin in the skin and bone.
Readers wished for some Princess and the Pauper-style plot in which Chanelle would trade places with Her Poshness. Day-vid’s ankle would be well enough for him once again to chase his beloved round the bed and Posh would discover what its like to get a real tan and get booted off auditions for the X Factor.
But it was not to be. And now the Sport leads with the news that when Vicky comes to Wembley Stadium to watch Dave take on Germany, she will be surrounded by “a few more security guards” to “make sure Chanelle doesn’t try anything stupid”.
There is no enlargement on what this desperate bid for fame might be, but readers cannot rule out violin-playing Chanelle standing close to Her Poshness and putting her in the shade, literally…
For a woman who sings the praise of hygiene – you’d half expect her to serve drinks with a Cif lemon twist – the tracksuit belies Carole’s inner slob.
Those psychologies who spend Sunday nights babbling to Davina about how bitching is good for the soul and that sleep talking the lyrics to Cats suggests a troubled mind, should consider Carole’s split personality.
We have already seen Carole’s house, a happening not witnessed on British TV since Adrian Mole delivered a copy of Big and Bouncy to his friend Bert Baxter, 89.
Were Carole tuning in and not on the show, one suspects she’d have pulled on her marigolds, broken into this house and given it a good going over.
Of course, there are those among us, housemates included, who saw Carole’s home and came to the conclusion that she needs to win more than any other.
But these are external issues. The show is about what occurs on the telly. Although the tabloids track the show and give insight into housemates’ sex lives, the voters watch the thing.
And what they see is Carole getting up everyone’s nose like a blast of pine fresh Toilet duck.
Carole is 139-1 to win. And the feeling is that she will go next. The other housemates know she is unpopular on the outside – she topped the vote last week. They will nominate her.
Take her to leave next, and to get a light once over from Davina…