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.
WHEN actresses explode, aka Exploding Actresses is brilliant:
HOW do you write a blues song? Like this:
CAN a child’s work ruin the adult’s career?
Dennis Waterman did not let a boyhood advertising Rowntree’s Fruit Gums hold him back from a successful TV career. Little Dennis sang:
Don’t forget my fruit gums, Mum,
I just love those fruit gums, Mum,
Thruppence buys a tube of fruit gums,
Gums that last all day.
Bring me home some fruit gums, Mum,
All my pals love fruit gums, Mum,
Rowntree’s fruit gums last the longest,
That’s why we all say:
They’re smashing! They’re Rowntree’s!
The young Dakota Fanning shilled for Tide, dribbling food down her pink dress. She too would go on to achieve showbiz fame.
A past promoting the GAF Viewmaster did Jodie Foster no harm. She went on to become an A-list Hollywood stalwart.
So there is hope, then, for the child seen eating dog poo in the above advert created for Bristol Council. We could be looking at the next Lindsay Lohan…
HAVING seen The People set the global news agenda with its scoop on Charles Saatchi and Nigella Lawson rowing in public, the Sun continues to play catch-up. In today’s update the paper announces “Nigella’s row with Saatchi ‘27 mins’” and reports the words of the photographer who recorded the action:
The cameraman, known only as Jean-Paul, said: “What I saw was 27 minutes of madness. That’s how long the abuse lasted. It is disgusting that people think the assault on Nigella was so short. It was shocking. The first time her head jolted backwards really got me.”
“He’s a big man and this would have hurt Nigella immensely.”
The Banana Splits beat The Beatles and the Despicable Me Minions to No 1 in the Top Ten Banana Songs of all Time
TO promote the film Despicable Me 2, the Minions are singing the Banana Song. It’s fun. But it’s not as good as the ultimate banana song.
PAGE 3 stunna and make-over TV hostess Melinda Messenger tells Spirit & Destiny magazine:
“I’m studying for a degree in transpersonal psychotherapy, which is therapy with an emphasis on the spiritual aspects of the human experience… I want to do community work in some form or other, and I’ve got a real desire to open a little tea shop and be a foster mum, and maybe even write.
“I’ve been spiritually aware from around the age of seven, when I saw my brothers pouring boiling water on to an ants’ nest.”
Melinda Messneger presents Cowboy Builders on Channel 5.
THERE is something of the Bangkok LadyBoy about Miley Cyrus, formerly the world’s biggest-ever teenage star. Not so much the face of the future or the now, Cyrus is the reminder that trying to escape a hyper-controlled past can be tricky for your future career. In these 10 Gifs from her new song We Can’t Stop, Cyrus approximates sex appeal and kookiness without ever coming close to nailing either. She slices off her fingers, frots a massive teddy bear, twerks, engages in a spot of lipstick lesbian, rubs a slice of white bread over her face and smooches a Barbie doll. Naturally, in this check box approach to outrageous pop antics, she alludes to drugs use. In courting controversy, Cyrus manages to come across as remarkable uncontroversial, overly contrived and conservative. Still, at least she’s having fun. Beats working:
OK! has an update on the wedding of pneumatic bum cream modelTamara Ecclestone — daughter of F1 supremo and 1960s action figure Bernie. As previously recorded, Tamara has decamped from her £45 million Kensington house with walk-in birkin museum and crystal bath to marry a Jay Rutland on the French Riviera.
Details of the £12 million do are emerging.
At the rented out Grand Hotel du Cap-Ferrat, Bernie coughed up for Mariah Carey, Elton John, Mark Ronson and Lionel Richie to provide atmosphere.
All vital information for us to hold dear lest something happens to the TV cook. The tabloids have already been helping the police with their enquiries, The People publishing pictures of Mr Nigella, Charles Saatchi, holding his wife about the throat. He’s now got a police record.
Speaking to the London Evening Standard, Saatchi said:
“Although Nigella made no complaint, I volunteered to go to Charing Cross station and take a police caution after a discussion with my lawyer because I thought it was better than the alternative of this hanging over all of us for months.”
The Sun goes on to look at victims of domestic violence. Loretta Butterworth, whose husband got an 18-month community order for stamping on her, says she “hopes Nigellas know when to walk away”. Tina Nash, who was blinded by her boyfriend (Shane Jenkin was given a life sentence for gouging out her eyes), says women should flee abuseive relationships “before it’s too late”.
The Sun understands. It zoom in on Nigella sat at a cafe table in London’s Mayfair. Should Lawson invade her personal space, the Sun’s man with a long lens will not hesitate to fire at will. He will then report the matter to his editors, who will create a story around the images and publish the lot as the next day’s news. That’s how much the Sun despises domestic abuse. Where ever it is, the Sun’s women protectors will photograph it from range.
In other news, the Independent’s John Walsh appears on his paper’s cover to tell readers:
From charmer to bully: My encounter with Charles Saatchi – I’ve never met a man with such strict views on what music my son should buy
From being rough with a woman to dictating to kids, Saatchi is being undone. Walsh remembers the horror:
It was the King’s Road, Chelsea, about seven years ago. I was in the HMV record store, now sadly extinct. My son, aged 14, was prowling the CD racks; I was down the other end of the store, browsing the (ahem) European arthouse cinema. There I met Nigella, with whom I worked at The Sunday Times years ago. We chatted and she said, “Come and meet Charles”. He was taller than I expected, dark-eyed and watchful, in a white shirt and long black coat – a saturnine figure, who turned his gaze upon a stranger like a cobra eyeing its quaking prey.
A few days ago, Charles Saatchi was an advertising man who collected lots of art. He is now The Hoodle Claw. Walsh gives an example of what he calls bullying:
We ambled to the music section. I introduced my son Max to Nigella’s son Bruno. Each boy was carrying a pile of CDs they were hoping their dads would buy them. Charles took his stepson’s pile and leafed through it. “Mmm… mmm… good,” he murmured, at the boy’s choices. Then, “What’s this?” he said, about a classic rock album from the 1960s. “You’re not having that,” said Saatchi, firmly. “Why live in the past? What’s wrong with modern stuff?” While his stepson tried to protest, Saatchi flicked through my son’s CDs like a Customs official. “Yeah… good… no wait. Why d’you want this?” He held up This Year’s Model by Elvis Costello. “I like Elvis Costello,” said Max. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t think so,” said Saatchi in a don’t-argue-with-me-voice. “Why d’you want to go back to the old days? Absolutely not.” Max, outraged, looked at me as though to ask, “Is this guy, like, in charge?”
Ah, the poor lambs. They are now cast as hapless victims or an orchestrated, relentless campaign to mock their music tastes. Let’s hope with therapy the devastated victims can escape psychological problems and go on to buy all The Who’s albums on iTunes.
JAMES Gandolfini, star turn in the greatest TV show of all time – that’s The Sopranos – has died. The man who gave flesh and bone to Tony Soprano died in Italy. He was 51.
The Sopranos creator David Chase (see above) pays tribute:
“[James] was a genius. Anyone who saw him even in the smallest of his performances knows that. He is one of the greatest actors of this or any time. A great deal of that genius resided in those sad eyes. I remember telling him many times, ‘You don’t get it. You’re like Mozart.’ There would be silence at the other end of the phone.”
Even the intro was fantastic:
CORRIDORS. Not just any old creepy, long, silent, anxiety-inducing, lonely, crippling, haunted corridors, but eerie, antiseptic, soulless, menacing, echoey, brooding, lugubrious corridors in sci-fi films. Corridors that when you scream no-one can hear you.
Corridors are the places in film that let the dialogue pause and the tensions build. You’d run along though them. If your legs let you.
These are the best corridors in sci-fi:
Code-46 – Michael-Winterbottom (2003)
The Black-Hole – Gary Nelson (1979)
Ikarie XB-1 (1963, Jindřich Polák)
Ridley Scott’s Alien
George Lucas’s THX-1138
Dr. Who and the Daleks (1965, Gordon Flemyng)
Stereo (1969, David Cronenberg)
Saturn 3 (1980, Stanley Donen)
Outland (1981, Peter Hyams)
Equilibrium (2002, Kurt Wimmer)
Alphaville: Une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965, Jean-Luc Godard)
Titan A.E. (2000, Don Bluth and Gary Goldman)
Forbidden Planet (1956, Fred M. Wilcox)
2010 (1984, Peter Hyams)
Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977, George Lucas)
Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977, George Lucas)
Solyaris (1972, Andrei Tarkovsky)
Event Horizon (1997, Paul W. S. Anderson)
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick)
Westworld (1973, Michael Crichton)
Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991, Nicholas Meyer)
Robocop (1987, Paul Verhoeven)
Upside Down (2012, Juan Diego Solanas)
Species (1995, Roger Donaldson)
Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956, Fred F. Sears)
KANYE West, the hopelessly self-important rapper, says on his new album, Yeezus “get this bitch shaking like Parkinson’s”.
Steve Ford, Chief Executive at Parkinson’s UK, is upset:
“Kanye West has shown an inexcusable level of stupidity and cruelty towards people living with an incurable condition. Life with Parkinson’s is difficult enough without becoming fodder for insensitive celebrities who should know better, looking for their next big hit.
“People with Parkinson’s have to cope with intolerable social discrimination on a daily basis – often to the point where they are afraid to go out in public – and this sort of thoughtless, callous comment can only serve to make things even worse for them.”
A NEW mural painted on a Brixton wall by James Cochran aka Jimmy C shows the image of David Bowie from the cover of his 1973 album Aladdin Sane.
David Robert Jones was Brixton born in 1947.
NEWS that Rupert Murdoch is divorcing Wendi Deng, has yet to reach the media man’s twitter account. There have been rumours – strenuously denied – that an affair lies behind the marital split. The Hollywood Reporter summed up in the headline:
A spokesperson for Tony Blair flatly denied media rumors that Wendi Murdoch is romantically involved with the former British prime minister.
News of Murdoch’s divorce, which made it onto the front pages of other papers, made it onto page 11 of The Sun and rated as marginally less interesting in terms of column inches than recent stories about KT Tunstall, Billy Ray Cyrus and Harold Hamm (no, me either).
TEEN Mom porn star Farrah Abraham has broadcast pictures of her breast enlargement surgery. What she dosen’t know, of course, is that inside her right breast is a reality TV camera crew and outside broadcast truck. Her left breast contains an under-ripe honeydew melon, one of her five-a-day. An expert says that thanks to her new oversized breasts Farrah now looks exactly like a woman with false breasts. Farrah hopes to inspire woman with undersized breasts to look less freakish:
MANY Disney cartoons were made by Rotoscoping? What’s that then? Wikipedia tells us:
“Rotoscoping is an animation technique in which animators trace over footage, frame by frame, for use in live-action and animated films.”
Here are classic Disney characters superimposed onto the actors who played them:
Anorak brings you the Greatest Beauty Pageant Answers Ever. And – remember – no-one likes you if you are cute and smart. Maybe this article shold be entitled The Smartest Beauty Pageant Answers Ever?
BEFORE the Wall came down and the EU came knocking, Polish film posters for American film were handmade. Nowadays, Poles are seduced to Americans films with the usual cocktail of edited quotes from critics and airbrushed photography. But when US publicity material was banned, film posters for Yankee movies were created by artists interpreting the film.
There is no proof that they were more effective in getting punters in to watch the film. But the billboards would have been more beautiful:
He tells the Evening Standard:
“The pictures are horrific but give a far more drastic and violent impression of what took place…
“About a week ago, we were sitting outside a restaurant having an intense debate about the children, and I held Nigella’s neck repeatedly while attempting to emphasise my point. There was no grip, it was a playful tiff. Nigella’s tears were because we both hate arguing, not because she had been hurt. We had made up by the time we were home. The paparazzi were congregated outside our house after the story broke yesterday morning, so I told Nigella to take the kids off till the dust settled.”
The story does not end there. Ever since the Sunday People published the photos, the story has been a cause of chatter. The Sunday Mirror even made a joke of it all, punning that TV cook Nigella was at “BOILING POINT“.
A few days on and vain arsehat Nick Griffin, the BNP’s monocular tosser, who thanks to the democratic experiment has the mandate from 120,139 voters, tweets:
If I had the opportunity to squeeze Nigella Lawson, her throat wouldn’t be my first choice.
The Mirror gets wind of that stupid comment and reports:
Controversial politician makes derogatory sexual comment about celebrity chef
Others would surely prefer to look at the fact that Griffin fancies a Jewish mother of two. (Griffin claimed he fell out with Tyndall over the latter’s policy on Muslims: “Because he hated Jews so much, he thought Muslims couldn’t be all that bad if they didn’t like Jews” – Times)
But let’s not analyse the pillock. Let’s just note that the Mirror made its own joke at a time when it appeared to be alleging that Nigella had been the victim of domestic violence. Classy stuff.
The Express picks up on the story. It thunders: “Outrage as BNP leader Nick Griffin makes sick joke about Nigella Lawson on Twitter”.
This would be the Express whose sister paper the Daily Star once backed the EDL? The Express that asked of Nigella, “So has TV’s yummy cook out a bit too much in her tummy?” Is this the Express whose sister organ, Channel X, is showing this week such right-on films as Angel’s Gutter Girls, Skint Students and St Teenycums Nymphic Games 1? Is that the same Express outraged by “derogatory sexual comment about the celebrity chef?
The Daily Mail once invited us to look at Nigella’s “jumbo knees”. And ITV infamously tweeted: [Nigella Lawson] is “nowhere near as attractive as she thinks she is”.
Be outraged by Nick Griffin. Be more outraged that people actually elected him to be an MEP (one reason to quit the EU, surely, Mr Farage). But if you are going to outraged by sexism, recognise that it’s not only racial bigots who champion it…
GET ready to mock a man who thinks he can talk to the ether. TV psychic Derek Acorah cancelled a show earlier this month due to “unforeseen circumstances”.
THE CELEBRITY Police Force has been summoned to hang out with Nigella Lawson and her husband Charles Saatchi. Yesterday’s pictures of Saatchi with his hand about the TV cook’s have led to CPF action. The Mirror, which broke the story, thunders from its front page:
“Police Probe Nigella Choke Attack”
PETER Andre’s life is an episodic, deadline-driven journey of self-discovery. In his Now magazine column Andre was talking about Justin Bieber being accompanied to a basketball game with a man so big his Everest mountaineers call him ‘The Big One”.
“When I was younger, I went through a stage where I always had two bodyguards but when I got older, I realised its counter-effective, because it actually draws more attention to you!”
And that’s why ITV2′s Peter Andre no longer needs a pair of bodyguards…
In this photo proof that Liberace’s young lover Scott Thorson had a love affair with Michael Jackson?
THE Liberace biopic Behind the Candelabra tells the story of the pianist and his lover Scott Thorson (pictured above in a Boston eatery back in 1981). Predictably, Thorson has been promoting the hell out of himself. The highlight of his memory banks is his tale of a six-year long romance with Michael Jackson.
“Liberace introduced me and Michael in the late 1970s. It was right around the time Thriller was coming out and Michael and I became lovers. Our relationship went on for six or seven years. Michael was very generous too. He treated me well. Liberace and I had both undergone plastic surgery around the same time Michael underwent a nose job because he didn’t think he was handsome. We all healed together at the Liberace compound in Palm Springs.”
It’s a wonderful tableau. But can it be true.
PopBitch has produced proof that Thorson and Jackson met and hung out together. In this 1981 photo, Scott Thorson is sitting next to Michael Jackson, being driven around Beaulieu Motor Museum with Liberace by Lord Montagu of Beaulieu.
Liberace did love a big car. Her he is posing with a a one-of-a-kind 1956 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud I on Feb. 21, 1985. The car was originally designed for Elizabeth Taylor, Jackson’s close pal. Isn’t Hollywood wonderfully incestuous…
PHOTOSHOP. ASk for it on prescription:
Kanye West: ‘I got the answers. I understand culture. I am the nucleus’ and other self-deprecating funnies from his NY Times interview
IS Kanye West a work of parody? These are highlight of his interview in the NY Times:
Anytime I’ve had a big thing that’s ever pierced and cut across the Internet, it was a fight for justice. Justice. And when you say justice, it doesn’t have to be war. Justice could just be clearing a path for people to dream properly. It could be clearing a path to make it fair within the arena that I play. You know, if Michael Jordan can scream at the refs, me as Kanye West, as the Michael Jordan of music, can go and say, “This is wrong.”
I remember when both Gnarls Barkley and Justin [Timberlake] lost for Album of the Year, and I looked at Justin, and I was like: “Do you want me to go onstage for you? You know, do you want me to fight” —
On Heroic Justice:
I am so credible and so influential and so relevant that I will change things. So when the next little girl that wants to be, you know, a musician and give up her anonymity and her voice to express her talent and bring something special to the world, and it’s time for us to roll out and say, “Did this person have the biggest thing of the year?” — that thing is more fair because I was there.
On Being Mr Kim, Kardashian:
I’m like, the anti-celebrity, and my music comes from a place of being anti.
I would hear stories about Steve Jobs and feel like he was at 100 percent exactly what he wanted to do, but I’m sure even a Steve Jobs has compromised. Even a Rick Owens has compromised. You know, even a Kanye West has compromised. Sometimes you don’t even know when you’re being compromised till after the fact, and that’s what you regret.
On His Music:
Creative output, you know, is just pain. I’m going to be cliché for a minute and say that great art comes from pain. But also I’d say a bigger statement than that is: Great art comes from great artists. There’s a bunch of people that are hurt that still couldn’t have made the album that was super-polarizing and redefined the sound of radio.
The idea of Kanye and vanity are like, synonymous. But I’ve put myself in a lot of places where a vain person wouldn’t put themselves in. Like what’s vanity about wearing a kilt?
On The Wonder of Me:
I sat down with a clothing guy that I won’t mention, but hopefully if he reads this article, he knows it’s him and knows that out of respect, I didn’t mention his name: this guy, he questioned me before I left his office:, “If you’ve done this, this, and this, why haven’t you gone further in fashion?” And I say, “I’m learning.” But ultimately, this guy that was talking to me doesn’t make Christmas presents, meaning that nobody was asking for his [stuff] as a Christmas present. If you don’t make Christmas presents, meaning making something that’s so emotionally connected to people, don’t talk to me.
I would rather sit in a factory than sit in a Maybach.
I want to tell people, “I can create more for this world, and I’ve hit the glass ceiling.” If I don’t scream, if I don’t say something, then no one’s going to say anything, you know? So I come to them and say, “Dude, talk to me! Respect me!”
I think what Kanye West is going to mean is something similar to what Steve Jobs means. I am undoubtedly, you know, Steve of Internet, downtown, fashion, culture. Period. By a long jump. I honestly feel that because Steve has passed, you know, it’s like when Biggie passed and Jay-Z was allowed to become Jay-Z.
I’ve been connected to the most culturally important albums of the past four years, the most influential artists of the past ten years. You have like, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Henry Ford, Howard Hughes, Nicolas Ghesquière, Anna Wintour, David Stern.
I think that’s a responsibility that I have, to push possibilities, to show people: “This is the level that things could be at.” So when you get something that has the name Kanye West on it, it’s supposed to be pushing the furthest possibilities. I will be the leader of a company that ends up being worth billions of dollars, because I got the answers. I understand culture. I am the nucleus.
On confidence issues…