‘Its been a while since we did this but its only right and proper that we take look at the society dos that make up a chunk of OK!s weekly insight into life in paps higher echelons.
Beckwith – a good egg
First date in the dairy is for the 2005 Life Savers Awards. This is the chance for the great and good to patronise they who have performed heroic deeds of bravery and selflessness.
But Kerry Katona cannot win every award, and its only right the gongs go to 21 people not so obviously heroic, but who will have to do.
Looking at the photos from the event, we may suppose that prizes were given to fearless Michelle Bass from Big Brother, intrepid This Morning host Philip Schofield, the ever-selfless Tania Bryer and the woman whose work with painted boiled eggs has made her a legend, Tamara Beckwith.
But they are not the winners. Really, they are not. The winners are over the page, all lined up for a photo.
And in the centre of the group are Tony and Cherie Blair. Naturally…’
‘KERRY Katona would like it to be known that FATHER CHRISTMAS DID NOT FEEL ME UP.
Santa’s little helper
In the course of tuning on the lights in Warrington this year, and thus introducing the locals to the wonder that is electricity, Kerry met Santa.
By way of proof, OK! produces a picture of Kerry sitting on Santas sturdy knee.
And… And nothing. For one thing, Kerry is not that kind of girl. For another, Santa is married to Mrs Claus. And for third, Kerry says nothing happened.
Now, let me put your straight, Santa did not touch my boob! says Kerry.
I had my Lilly and Molly with me [not the names of Kerrys new boobs, but her daughters], sat there shaking Father Christmass hand and he was laughing while I gave him a little kiss on his cheek…and thats all that happened!
And until the elves, Rudolph or Max Clifford tells us otherwise, well ask no more…’
‘IF Angelina Jolie were to explode all over the place, which bit of her would you try to retrieve from among the debris?
Americans love their star memorabilia, and in time at a convention centre in Las Vegas, the hunters will assemble, each clutching a bit of the actress (shrink wrapped in polythene), and try to piece Angelina back together again.
It could happen. In America, anything can happen. Just take a look at the Enquirers headline. And know that ANGELINA ERUPTS.
And what has made Angelina blow her stack are those CHEATING accusations.
But whos been doing the cheating? Well, no-one. Ok, not no-one. Of course not no-one. America is full of cheats love cheats, drugs cheats, card cheats, memorabilia cheats. We mean to say no-one, as in neither Angelina nor her beau Brad Pitt has been cheating on the other.
The catalyst for Angelinas fury is a bogus magazine article which claimed Angelina has been secretly meeting up with her former husband, British actor Jonny Lee Miller.
This report, which the Enquirer tells us first appeared in Life & Style Weekly, is based on a story supplied by a witness who claims to have overheard Miller talking about La Jolie.
In the interests of showing what damage can be caused by bad reporting and sensation, the Enquirer now relays to those of you not au fait with the aforesaid and august publication what was allegedly said.
An unnamed source claimed Miller said: Mr. Pitt has not idea who Angie really is. We love each other deeply, and Mr. Pitt, Im sure, doesnt know how much we love each other or how often!
Thats sounds very dramatic, like an extract from a Jackie Collins books set in Dickensian England. (Oh, Mr. Pitt. Under hand me, sir, cried little Meg as Mr Pitt. took her hard over the lingerie counter at Neiman Marcus.)
And it was enough to send Angelina mad with rage. As a source explains: Cheating is a word that sends shivers down her spine. Dont forget that shes never forgiven her actor dad Jon Voight for cheating on her mother.
Indeed, we must not forget that. Its little wonder Angelina has exploded. Leaving Brad and the rest of us to pick up the pieces…’
‘WHAT do you think of when you hear the name Stavros? Go on. Be honest.
Nice legs, shame about the boat
Does the name conjure up images of a majestic Adonis striding manfully along the deck of his super yacht? Is Stavros playing a game of Baccarat at the casino, gambling impressively large wads?
Or is Stavros standing before a huge iffy looking roll of revolving meat and a picture of Arsenal FC, and saying in fractured English how he is happy to see you peeps?
Surely it is this latter image that enters the minds of any British-born persons (including many called Stavros themselves) as they read of Stavros Niarchos.
But Stavros is not big in meat. Hes the 20-year-old son of a Greek shipping billionaire. Hes also the current squeeze of Paris Hilton, a fact that does not go down well with daddy Philip.
According to the Enquirers sources, the heir-head is not going to get another penny from his dad unless he dumps Paris.
Just like the mum of Hiltons last lover, who was also called Paris, the bigger Niarchos is not a big fan of the blonde one.
So what will it be? If true, will Stavros keep his inheritance and ditch the skinny one? As our own cock-er-ney Stavros might have out it, will Stavros go for daddys boat or Pariss?’
‘WANT to know what Tom Cruise is giving Katie Holmes for a wedding present?
Think big the Enquire says the stars personal fortune is estimated at $550million.
A supa sprung couch? No. A promise not to embarrass her? No. A $20million customised Gulfstream jet? With a crew? And pilot? A pilot whos a Scientologist?
Yes! Yes! Yes! Call Tom crazy or just cray-zee in love, but the man-childs only gone and got his lover her own private plane.
Thats a terrific prezzie. So much more practical than a ring. And just the thing to get Katie to her parents home in Ohio with minimal fuss.
But whats that you say? You want to know if the jet has a supa sprung sofa on board? Dunno. Maybe…’
‘WHO is Jordans style icon?
Done up like a dog’s dinner
Famous hotair balloonist Richard Branson? Charlie Carolee, the clown whose painted face and work with balloons made him a legend? Wrong and wrong. I always say Victoria Beckham, says Jordan. I think she always looks the dogs b******s.
For sure she does. So lets take a look at the woman with the pout of a pampered Pekingese and see what shes wearing.
This week, Victoria is mostly wearing jeans and a black vest top. Only recently multi-talented Vicky was causing a wow when she wore a dress.
Vicky is the veritable fashion chameleon. Buy how does the girl who has so many designers vying for her modelling capabilities choose what to wear?
Well, its a lot to do with husband Day-vid. He picks a lot of clothes for me, she says. And I think he looks good in everything.
Which makes us wonder how Dave goes about picking Vickys things? And if he looks as good as Posh does in jeans and a black vest top. Or a Robert Cavalli dress?’
‘WHO says you never see models eat?
‘Je suis a mo-del’
Take a look at Caprice. Not only is the Californian-born model in a restaurant, but shes sitting in front of a plate.
Admittedly, Caprice does seem a little uncertain – its not everyone who uses their plate as a coaster for their drinking glass.
But Caprice is not called Caprice for nothing, and if she wants to put her dink on her food plate, then so be it.
And thats not all. As weve noted, over lunch at the Parisian Le Meurice eatery Caprice dispelled forever the myth that supermodels dont eat.
Sadly we dont get to see Caprice actually putting a morsel in her mouth. But that might be because she knows its rude to talk with her mouth full; and she has much to say.
Before she can munch on the dos de bar au caviar Caprice wants to tell us how much she loves Paris. I love everything about it, she oozes like a plate of noix de coquilles Saint Jacques au poelon. The shops, the food, the smell of burning automobiles…
Ah, the food? I watch what I eat but Ive never seen the point of starving myself to stay super-thin. We all need to splurge every now and then or life would be incredibly dull.
Indeed. And some of us even splurge a few times in a single day, over periods of unbridled madness called breakfast, lunch and dinner. The British have even been known to be locked in institutions where they splurge on things called seconds, tea and elevenses.
Although Caprice may have missed this part of British culture. You see, though Caprices family were French Canadian, she grew up in California. I never learnt their language [French]. Its the reason I moved to England.
Er… Has the food gone to Caprices head? Not all of us can be Robert La Salle, Pierre Gaultier de Varennes or Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, but few have mistaken England for France, where French is routinely spoken.
And café et chocolate engorged…’
‘KERRY Katona is not as rough as a badgers arse. Shes merely as playful.
A lesbian carpet bagger
As the girl herself says of her alleged bout with boyfriend Dave Cunningham: It was reported last week that I hit Dave and he knocked me to the floor. Indeed it was reported (see Anorak The Pain In Spain).
The first part is partly true. I gave him a playful slap round the head and in the process slipped over which we were both laughing at.
Silly us. Now that misunderstanding has been cleared up, we can all get on with our lives. Even if Kerry and Dave have split up.
So, what now for Kerry? Well, for a hint of what might lie in store for the playful slapper, we turn to Kerrys OK! diary.
And therein are treated to Kerrys pearl of wisdom. In a piece called ID GO LESBO, Kerry tells the world: I think lesbianism is great.
Well, after Bryan and Dave, going the gay way would give Kerry a new set of options…’
‘YOU can keep you complimentary tangerine, what we want for Christmas is a cure for orange peel thighs.
Jordan and her medicine balls
Thankfully, the orangey Jordan is in a giving mood. As the front page of OK! promises: ILL SHOW YOU HOW TO GET THE PERFECT BODY IN TWO WEEKS.
Worry ye not. This perfect body requires no surgeons knife. Theres no need to push a couple of medicine balls into your bra or Y-fronts. You just need to pay attention.
Like you, Jordan is essentially a lazy person. As she says, she prefers to scoff curries and pizza. The gym is not her natural habitat.
But she does have Peter Andre, who like some tanned Jiminy Cricket acts as Jordans keep-fit conscience.
But not everyone is luckily enough to have a little Pete to perch on their shoulder and tell them whats what. So Jordan has some words to the wise.
Try the juicing diet. I get apples, ginger, celery, avocados and that sort of thing and whizz them up in blender, says she.
That sort of thing…? Like fruit and Vegetables? Like watermelons and pumpkins?
But before Jordan juices herself, theres more work to be done. If you want to look like Jordan youll need a personal trainer. She was going to the gym or working out with her fitness instructor about three of four times a week prior to her wedding.
But if you cant make it to the gym, dont worry. Jordan sometimes did it in her lounge, sometimes in her garden. And when her son Harvey was in hospital, Jordan used the gym at a nearby hotel.
And she means using the gym, not just turning up and preening. I cant bear it when I see all these women in gyms in the designer kit, full make-up, reading a magazine or on the phone. Or eating a curry or chewing on a pizza on the step machine.
Thats not a workout. A workout is only a workout if Jordan sweats. Says she: If I dont sweat then Im not doing a good job.
So, she sees keeping fit as a job. And its a job Jordan can do from home. She and Pete have just had a gym installed.
Well, its so much less tempting than a pizza oven…’
‘THE Beatles, Manchester United and the deep-fried kebab. Three things that have left Britain to conquer America. And now we add to that illustrious list of exports a fourth name: Camilla.
A deep-fried kebab makes a hearty soup
PRINCE CHARLES INTRODUCES HIS DARLING WIFE TO AMERICA, announces the cover of Hello! with great fanfare. CAMILLA TAKES CENTRE STAGE ON HER FIRST OVERSEAS TOUR.
To remind us who Camilla is, Hello! produces a cover shot of a woman in jodhpurs, puffing on a fag and wildly snorting with laughter as she points towards a picture of a pale and wan Princess Diana.
Of course it does not. These days Camilla is no longer the wicked mistress, the evil step-mother with the fag breath, bad fashion and a horses head. Shes new Camilla. Shes got Camilla chic.
And Hello! has all the anecdotes of she and her fragrant husbands trip to the States.
Yes, all the anecdotes. Camilla might well be refreshingly down to earth, but shes no pleb, not these days. If Hello! is going to learn what was said and to whom, it will have to rely on reported information.
So as the couple land at JFK airport, their spokesman Paddy Harveson sees the Prince reach out and clasp his wifes hand. Yes, its true, says Paddy, she hates flying.
Wow! Were off to a flyer. And its not long before Hello has more anecdotes to entertain us and our dinner party guests with.
Whats it like to be in New York? asks a TV reporter. Very good, replies Camilla coolly.
Later, a snapper spots Camillas midnight blue dress and Union Jack handbag. Look, Im flying the flag for Britain. says she. And doing us proud.
The Hello! dinner party is now in full riotous swing. And like all the best after-dinner speakers, Hello! delivers its big punch for the pudding.
It spots Elaine Stritch, the veteran star. Ah, dear, dear, Elaine. He was adorable, says Elaine, and I said to Camilla, You look great. She said, You need glasses.
And with that our host brings the anecdotes to an end, having given us all so much to feast upon. Like a deep-fried Mars kebab – by Royal appointment…’
‘FROM British royalty, we move now to the American strain. And take a look at the Bush clan, the family that rules American with an iron fist, a hanging chad and an oily smile.
This week, we get to gaze upon the vision of perky blonde Waspishness that is Ashley Walker Bush.
Thats some name. Firstly, we are forced to note that Ashley is an Ashley and not an Ashlee. Secondly, she has the second name Walker, like her uncle George. Little did we suspect that Walker was a unisex name, like Leslie, Jude and Vivien.
And we cannot help but wonder that this is some kind of heavy handed attempt to give the Bush family a touch of gravitas, a certain respectability.
See how they are changed. No longer are they the swaggering, gung-ho, rich-n-dumb Bushs but the Anglicised Walker Bushs of Texas, or Texarse, as it will soon be known. The ranch-owning nouveau riche aim to become landed gentry old money.
And as befitting the ways of old Europe, Ashley is preparing for her debut at the Crillon Ball. Named after the hotel in Paris where the ball is hosted. Ashley will be in attendance with Prince Ashley Poniatowski, the grandson of ex-French Interior Minister Prince Michael Poniatowski.
It promises to be one helluva do. And preparations are already moving on a pace. Ashley has been walking for quite some time, getting into her stride for the catwalk-style presentation by each debutante.
And shes got a dress, which she wont show us. The dress is my favourite part, says Ashley. And it will be accessorised with a tiara a kind of mini-crown for fledgling royalty…’
‘HES the most amazing man Ive ever met. Hes wonderful to be with and were having a great time. Its a privilege to have met him and become part of his world.
Laughing like children
And what a world it is, way up there in the vastness of outer space. For this man in none other than Tom Cruise.
And what a time, too. Its not been a long while Katie Holmes and Tom were engaged after a two-month courtship, quickly followed by a pregnancy but its been fun.
Now Katies taking a breather, talking to Hello! about what it is to be 26, pregnant, unmarried and with 43-year-old, twice married Tom.
She tells us how shes not worried about the age difference (I dont think about that at all) and how its a bit annoying that people see them as a publicity stunt.
And how bouncing around on Oprah Winfreys sofa like an additive-charged toddler was just Toms way of showing everyone what his emotions were and what his spirit was like.
And how an actor behaves in real life…’
‘HELLO! might have had the first major interview with Sadie Frost since her divorce (see Anorak Never Sa-Die), but it is OK! that gives us Sadie: MY FIRST AND ONLY INTERVIEW INSIDE MY HOME.
Frost – as we have come to know her
Doubtless more exclusives will follow. And we will soon be treated to Sadies first interview in the garden, first ever interview at a bus-stop in Cheam and first ever interview from the third cubicle in the Ladies convenience at Kings Cross station.
For now, OK! has the bragging rights. And aside from the home, there is much else promised on its front page. Whammy: I REVEAL FOR THE FIRST TIME THE REAL REASON JUDE LEFT ME. Double whammy: THE TRUTH ABOUT MY BEST FRIEND KATE MOSS. Treble whammy: THAT LESBIAN ROMP!
So lets go through the keyhole into Sadies new home in Londons Primrose Hill, that enclave of celebrity where everyone knows your name – the name of your children, the name of your new movie and the name of any pets or staff you might have.
Its a nice enough apartment, all large expanses of stripped wood floor, glass panelling on the landing and orangey uplighting. As befitting Sadies fashion designer status, her home looks like it been done up by the people who do the fit-outs for up-market high-street stores.
You half expect to see Coleen McLoughlin emerge from a door in the wall of frosted glass-fronted wardrobes, hand Sadie a pair of black trousers and ask if she has them in a size 12.
Perhaps making chez Frost look like a fashion store will enable Kate Moss to feel at home when she comes over.
Kate is godmother to Sadies daughter Iris. And OK! wants to know if Sadies going to throw her pal a homecoming tea party, serving herbal tea and organic food. Is she? No, says Sadie. Its rubbish.
What about the stories about Sadie and some girl pals being more than just friends? Its all utter tabloid rubbish. And Sadies reasons for splitting with Jude Law? I think it was a combination of very stressful events, says Sadie. Such as? …being apart for long periods of time, my post-natal depression and moving house. Not rubbish, then? But… But nothing. Sadie says its personal.
Much like her taste in home devour – even if it is a look shared by the likes of Joseph, Chanel, Harvey Nichols, Mr Byrite…’
‘AH, yes, we remember it well. It was, after all, only last week that Kerry Katona and her fiancé Dave Cunningham were not breaking up.
She’ll be forgetting her tongue next
Although it was a mixed message. While OK! was inviting us to gaze upon the holiday engagement pictures of Kerry and the love of her life, the News of The World was telling us how Dave had dumped her.
The whole thing reminded us of that song from Gigi, the one where the old romantic remembers it well.
Now Kerry tells us that she has regained her memory. She now remembers it. She has indeed split from Dave.
And now she wants to tell us about it. It seems that the split occurred at the end of the couples holiday in Spain.
And it was a split not without pain. As luck had it, Max Clifford, the selfless do-gooder to the stars, was on hand to witness the whole thing.
Kerry and Dave were actually staying with Max. And one night the duo went out and got tired an emotional. Max says that Dave wanted to go home. Kerry wanted to stay out. And when she said no, he grabbed her by the wrist to try to get her to leave with him. She said: Dave let go, youre hurting me. If you dont let go Ill whack you.
Max goes on: He didnt so she whacked him. He tried to grab her round the shoulders and she fell on the floor.
And then..? Well, Kerry hot-footed it to a spa in Cheshire. She had a nice facial and a great massage.
Kerry then had a Universal Contour Wrap, after which she discovered shed lost two inches from her body. A worry since Kerry is not all that tall to start with.
She then had a manicure, a pedicure, another massage and a chat with the spas resident cosmetic surgeon about collagen implants and Botox.
Phew! With all that going on its little wonder she forgot she and Dave had had fight and split up…’
‘DEANNE Berry. Know who she is? OK! says she may not exactly be a household name. And it also says it was a music video that shot her to fame.
Lets look at the clues. Shes famous. Shes been in a music video. You dont know her name. Wanna have a guess who she is?
No. Shes not the woman who pushed the vacuum cleaner in Queens I Want To Break Free. Guess again. Wrong. Shes not the bass player in Robert Palmers Addicted To Love. And no. Shes not Michael Boltons stunt hair.
She is a roll on the buns, maestro – the aerobics instructor on the video for Eric Prydzs hit Call On Me.
Now you know her. Yes, thats her with the black hair and the freckles. Thats her with the jagged scar running down the side of one cheek and the eye patch. Thats her with the wart the size, shape and texture of Melton Mowbray on the end of her nose.
Thats her. Well, we never forget a face…’
‘JESSICA Simpson has it all. And now, as the Enquirer reports, shes got a psychiatrist.
In brains we trust
So desperate is the actress to save her marriage to Nick Lachey that shes having her head examined.
This is not as dramatic as it sounds. In Hollywood a shrink is just a cosmetic surgeon for your feelings. He nips your occipital lobe, he tucks your cerebrum, he sucks flabby thinking from your cerebral cortex.
If I dont do this, Ill push everything back until I explode, says Jessica. And no-one would want that.
So Jessica, a real life Simpson character, albeit more orange than Homer and his yellowy kin, is releasing her pent up feelings to a therapist.
To aid this process, shes reportedly keeping volumes of spiral-bound notebooks. The Enquirer says these books are used to help express and understand her emotions.
Perhaps one day we will get to see what these journals contain. Perhaps the books will form an integral part of any forthcoming documentary on Jessicas life. And then theres the film of The Simpson Ledgers, with Kelsey Grammer as the psychiatrist, Simpson as the spine on a notebook and Woody Allen as her brain.
In the short term, its more likely Simpsons trips to the head doctors will feature on Newlyweds, the MTV show she and her husband Nick star on.
But maybe we should not believe everything we see. The Enquirer has heard reports that the newlyweds are having a prolonged ad break. Theres no need to rush back to the telly from making that cup of tea and taking a leak because so far this hiatus has lasted almost two months.
Little wonder Jessica is seeking help to patch things up. Unless her people can sell MTV the series Newly-separated and then Newly divorced, she needs Nick by her side.
But it might be too late. They should have just ended it six months go, but there was always another business reason not to break up, says an insider.
Or crack up ’
‘YOU might think the comic potential of white rappers had been exhausted with Vanilla Ice, 2 Live Jews (As Kosher As They Wanna Be) and Ali G.
‘Ratatat-tat, I’m a rapper in a hat’
But hold onto your microphones as you learn in the Enquirer that Kevin Federline is marrying rapping with dancing to push the envelope of this much ignored art form to its very limit.
Weve not heard Kevins rap, but Britney Spears apparently has, and shes none too impressed. I dont think neither Britney nor her minders like the fact hes in a money-draining dance studio project with Michael Jacksons dad Joe, says a source. And Britney cant be impressed by his dancing or his attempts at being a rapper.
Kevin the new whiter Michael Jackson? Lets just stick with Kevin the rapper for now. And wonder if he can reprise the art movement that peaked in the early 1980s with white rappers like Joe Pescy (Wiseguy Rap), Mel Brooks (Hitler Rap) and Kenny Everett (Snot Rap).
And let us not forget Roland Rat (Rat Rapping), an especially apt act considering that Roland was aided in his musical journey by a rodent Kevin of his own, a squeaky keen-toplease gerbil.
But we digress, and realise that while Kevin is making us laugh, hes also making his wife angry.
BRITNEY DIVORCE? says the Enquirers headline. News is that while Britney cares for the couples baby son, Sean, Kevin is out with pals flirting, boozing and smoking something that might or might not be marijuana.
The marriage seems to be in crisis. And the fear is that Britney and Kevin will split. Unless they can beat the rap, or die laughing trying…’
‘LOOKING gaunt and with her hair in a mess, Jennifer Aniston sobbed uncontrollably, says the Enquirer.
Is she worth it?
No-one likes to see that. If theres one thing weve come to rely on in this crazy game of high-stakes showbiz its that Jennifer Aniston will have shiny, manageable and just-stepped-out-of-the-salon looking hair. Weve come to depend on it.
But now this! And sources tell the Enquirer that this public outburst in a Chicago steakhouse should come as no surprise. Jens still hung up on Brad Pitt. And the closer he gets to marrying Angelina Jolie, the more upsetting it must be for her.
The steakhouse collapse probably isnt the first time Jennifer has erupted into tears over Brad and Angelina in recent weeks, says another source. Thank God Vince has been there to support her.
All too true. If Jens hair cant be relied upon, then Vince Vaughan might just be the next best thing.
But the actor surely wants more from a romance with Jen than teary dinners and wet steak. Its not all roses between Jen and Vince, says an insider. Hes had to put up with tearful admissions that shes not over Brad completely.
And, allegedly, there have been more tears. The insider says that Jen just wells up. Its happened in restaurants once it even happened in a bar after few glasses of wine.
But this crying cant go one for ever. Even Jeremiah stopped to eat. She has to move on. If not for Vince. If not for herself. Than surely for her hair…’
‘LIKE knowing where you were when JFK was shot or what you doing when you first saw Liz Hurley in that dress, the moment any of us hears Coleen McLoughlin talk will be ingrained on out minds for all eternity.
What will Coleen wear to Wayne’s ball?
She might be, as Hello! says, BRITAINS MOST TALKED-ABOUT PERSONALITY, but has anyone heard her talk about anything?
Until that momentous day when Coleen addresses her public, we are forced to get by with just having her speech transcribed by Hello!.
And were left to imagine how she sounds. The pitch of her voice is surely like the chirpy tring of a dying whale combined with the tone the raw huskiness of tissue paper being unravelled from a designer ra-ra skirt.
Hello! catches up with Coleen as she wears a short red and gold dress, a red bra top and stands at the helm of a yacht surely bound for the Mersey.
Its true my lifestyle has changed, says Coleen, her manicured fingers on the wheel, but Im still the same person I always was.
Indeed, she is still Coleen McLoughlin, as she ever has been. Wayne has not yet married her and made her Coleen Rooney; she remains unchanged.
But its hard to remain unaffected by all the media pressure. Coleen should continue to give interviews with showbiz mags and pose for Vogue – why should she change what she is because of the intrusive media? Shes just like you and me.
One day wed popped into Tescos in a hurry, says Coleen. I was looking a real mess in a tracksuit with no bra on, but as I got out of the car there was a lens in my face. I jumped back in and said to Wayne, Right, youre doing the shopping!
You can just picture easy-going, happy-go-lucky Wayne jumping from the car and skipping off with his shopping basket like a freckly Little Red Riding Hood. Or swearing.
There seems to be cameramen everywhere, but Im not going to dress up everyday for them, says Coleen. ‘People shouldnt be judged on what they wear. If you want to wear no bra, a tracksuit and look a mess, you go for it. And if a cameraman wants to take photo, jump back into the car, close the door and let him.
So much for that media intrusion. Coleen remains a breath of fresh air.
And if you want to see how fresh, check out the programme about her being broadcast on TV before Christmas and the fitness DVD. Both, as Coleen says, will give viewers the chance to see the real me.
What could be more real than having cameras follow you to the gym, shopping in London and Manchester and covering a fashion show in Milan (what in?). It will culminate in me finding the perfect dress for a red-carpet event.
So thats shopping, shopping and, er, shopping. Yes, I love fashion and looking around the shops but not every day as they [the media] want to portray. Indeed, some days youre in Milan looking at a fashion show…’
‘THIS might well be Sadie Frosts first major interview since her divorce, but few of us can remember any major interviews she did before her divorce.
Making time for a drink
I feel Im looking after myself and doing things for me, but doing things for the children, too, says Sadie.
And her children are important. Other women want to be star actors. But I felt that the important things are sitting down, having dinner with your children and having a cuddle.
Its domestic bliss. Those are the things that started to make me happy, not reading a review in some paper or being on the cover of a magazine.
So what does Sadies day consist of? What does someone do when theyre not in magazines and being famous? What does anyone do? Surely they have no life to speak of…
Sadie explains. Her son Finlay brings her a cup of tea at 7am. She then does the school run. Before its back home for some seriously hard emailing, researching, designing or editing ideas. Or she might drive to her office. Or she might swim laps at a pool with her friend Jemima.
By 3pm Sadie can usually be found heading back to school to pick up the children. Then at five or six its dinner. Once weve had dinner, Ill put the kids to bed, she says modestly.
The shell do some work between seven and ten. Or go out and be back by ten or 11. In between that lot (phew!), she spends 40 minutes a day working out, and is considering doing trapeze classes with daughter Iris.
Thats my perfect day. Everything gets done – the kids are happy and Im happy.
What happens on other less perfect days can be read about in the national press…’
‘EVER so often something really awesome happens to Hello!. As it hangs onto the gates at Buckingham Palace like a royalist gibbon, it hears a noise.
Hello! and goodbye
Make way. Make way for the King and Queen of Norway, comes the cry. Hello! is well placed. Avoiding being crushed by the wheels of the golden coach bringing the Norwegian King, and his wife to the palace and dodging the horsemans whip, Hello! whips out its notebook and instamatic and gets to work.
First up, it spots Crown Prince Haakon of Norway and his pregnant wife Princess Mette-Marit. And some other chap in a Navy uniform who looks uncannily like Princess Anne.
And thats just the start of three days packed with royal fun designed to mark Norways independence from Sweden a century ago.
And for Queen Elizabeth to catch up with things Norwegian and Royal with her second-cousin the King.
But what were they talking about. Hello! attends a press conference in order to find out. When it was Hello!s chance to ask the questions, to get to the heart of the matter, it didnt miss a beat. How did it feel to be back in England. No pulled punches. No pussy-footing. The real story.
Weve been looking forward to this visit for long time, says the 68-year-old monarch. It seems like we have come home, with a family we know so well.
Its nothing less than a scoop. And excited by its early success, Hello! wants to find out how well Mette-Marit coped with the flight from snowy Oslo. It was fantastic. And the pregnancy? Im doing fine, thank you.
And with that, the interview ended. Hello! had its story, and the royals had a banquet to get to…’
‘WHEN Kerry Katona announced via the front page of OK! magazine WELL HAVE A BIG WHITE WEDDING, the printers forgot to add the addendum: EACH.
The back of Kerry
The showbiz world moves at such a rapid pace that while OK! is inviting us to gaze upon the holiday engagement pictures of Kerry and the love of her life, the News of The World is telling us how fiancé Dave Cunningham has dumped her.
The whole thing reminds us of that song from Gigi, the one where the old romantic remembers it well.
Dave is more Morris Minor than Maurice Chevalier, but Kerry could do a passable Hermione Gingold, if you squint and shove your fingers in your ears.
So heres Kerry in OK!, cuddling Dave under the lovely Spanish sun and talking about weddings and how her daughters, Molly and Lilly Sue see Dave as part of the family (They call him Uncle Daddy).
And heres Dave in NOTW: We HAVE split up and it was ME who ended it. Things havent been great. It wasnt over what happened in Spain we patched things up after that. We had a laugh over it. Now I dont know what’s happening – I dont know if well get back together.’
Ah yes, I remember it well.
Kerry in OK!: Im happy with who I am and so is Dave.
A source close to Dave: They havent been getting on for a while because Dave hates all Kerrys partying and wants a normal lifestyle.
Ah yes, I remember it well.
Kerry: I drink a lot, lot less these days but I still have the odd one. I had one glass of sangria on the beach today, and that was the first drink Ive had on this holiday.
A source close to Dave, speaking of Kerry, who earlier in the year spent six weeks in alcohol rehab at the Cottonwood clinic in Arizona: But after a few weeks she was back to her normal self getting drunk and having a good time. When Dave told her, Youve got to stop caning it! she just ignored him and carried on going on benders. And whenever she gets drunk she goes completely bonkers.’
Ah yes, I remember it well ’
‘WE dont get to learn what the B in Emma Bs name stands for, but it surely offers an insight into her career ambitions.
‘I before E but not after B’
Right now Emma B is more like Emma Z. But things will soon improve. When she and her fiancé Brian Harvey marry she will be pulled up the social scale that is the celebrity alphabet all the way to Emma H.
But she wants more. And while we can only wait for the day when Emma changes her name to Emma Aadvark and guarantees top billing wherever she goes, shes got ready for her OK! interview by sticking a crown atop her blonde head.
Emma – known from hereon in as M – has the jewels. And she has the heart of pure gold. OK! tells us that shes been caring for Brian Harvey, her boyfriend. The former popstar had a car accident a while back, and M has been nursing him back to health. (A is for Angel.)
Looking after Brian has not been without its sacrifices. For one thing, M hasnt worked for four months while looking after Brian (Emma is a glamour mo-del by trade). And Brian was not recovered enough to make it to Jordans recent wedding.
But M can still dream. One day shed like to have children. Two of them. Were desperate for babies, says M. We speak about it most days and were probably talking about it too much, which is stopping it happening.
And then theres the talk about the fairy-tale wedding. Its every little girls dream, says Emma. Something like Jordans Cinderella do, perhaps?
Even if it would only make her Emma C…’
‘WITH Kate Mosss Moss Posse as damaged as last years Ugg boots, OK! has searched around for a new girl gang. And its come up with Poshs Posse.
Round ‘em up
Living in the fickle world of celebrity means that friends real friends can be hard to come by, says OK! wisely.
And the magazine has long been a loyal pal to Posh. Its stuck with her like pig semen. OK! has been there through the good times (when Posh stopped singing), the bad times (when Posh was singing) and the so-so times (when Posh was between verses).
But surprisingly OK! doesnt count itself as being a member of the Posh Posse. That honour goes to others.
They are, in no particular order: Liz Hurley, Robbie Williams, Katie Holmes, Tom Cruise, Geri Halliwell, Emma Bunton, Sir Elton John, David Furnish, Cheryl Tweedy and Roberto Cavalli.
Theres no doubt about it, says OK!, all in all, that Victoria Beckham is one friendly girl.
Shell share ever detail of her life with anyone. Even you…’
‘BABIES are not just about getting presents, decorating nurseries and mum and dad snuggling their little bundle of love and telling the world how truly amazing he/she/it is over a twelve-page photoshoot.
Laughing like mad
Babies can be hard work; and not just for the nanny. As the Enquirers front page says, they can tear you apart.
Inside the magazine (BRITNEY IN A PANIC HER FEAR OVER BABY SEAN), readers learn that just six weeks after the birth of their child, Britney Spears and her ferret-faced husband Kevin are fighting worse than ever.
The magazine hears an insider tell that Britneys dark moods over the welfare of their son and a lack of tolerance over Kevins behaviour are making her angry.
Sources have told In Touch magazine, which tells the Enquirer, which tells us, who tell you, that she has started lashing out at him.
And: Kevin keeps threatening to leave her. He screams and yells and Britney keeps breaking down and begging him to stop, telling him, We can work it out.
And thats when shes not mocking him. Hard as it is to believe, Britney has been laughing at Kevin, her white, break-dancing husband in the bandana and streaky beard.
As an insider tells In Touch magazine, things got heated when Kev brought home some music hed recorded and played it on their home stereo. Britney listened. And Britney laughed.
Britney said his CD might sell a hundred, maybe a thousand copies if he was lucky Kevin looked really hurt, says a source.
And if thats not enough, Britney is fretting over Sean Preston. Sources have told Life & Style Weekly magazine, which tells the Enquirer, which tells us, who tell you, that Britney keeps having dark thoughts over and over that something awful might happen to Sean.
Im so nervous Im not doing things right, the Enquirer says Britney told a friend.
Its clear Britney needs to pull her head in, herself together and Kevin into line. And stop being a baby…’