‘WHAT do Atomic Kittens do when they hang up their claws and stop recording anodyne cover versions of other people’s songs?
|”So, what shall we cover today?”|
If they’re called Kerry Katona, they get married, have a couple of little kittens, get divorced and stick their tongue out a lot.
If they’re called Natasha Hamilton, they don’t get married, have a couple of kids and stick their breasts out a lot.
And if they’re called Jenny Frost they get married, don’t have a couple of kids and would like to be able to stick their breasts out a little more.
But whatever they do, they make sure OK! is there to capture it all on film.
So, we catch up with Jen having a raucous time on her sister’s hen weekend in Amsterdam, where we’re told she strutted the streets in an array of high-fashion outfits and revealed that she’s been eating less since her operation to have her tonsils removed and has consequently lost a little of her boobs.
And we get to have good natter with Tash, who is pregnant with her second child (by a second father), and boyfriend Gavin Hatcher.
And it is there that we learn that plans for the Kittens to reunite after Christmas have been put on hold and instead we shall have to wait until 2006.
By which time the girls should be about as well-known as the Page 3 girl who used to look like the orange one out of Liberty X…’
‘MODELS, we know, are not renowned for their brains and it stands to reason that supermodels are thicker than your average catalogue clothes horse.
|Caprice was in her school bikini team|
So when we learn that when she was young, Caprice wouldnt even answer a question in the classroom, we suspect that shyness may not have been the only reason.
But shes 29 now and, although the blonde hair is still, well, blonde, her shyness has abated to the extent that shes happy to parade around in next to nothing.
What is more, she now has a bit more experience of life and frankly therefore we are disappointed to hear her coming out with statements like the following:
When you talk about marriage, she tells Hello!, youre talking about the rest of your life, and you have to be 100 per cent committed.
Poppycock, my girl. If Mr and Mrs J Public need only be about 60% committed to get married these days, then celebrities can walk down the aisle with barely double-digit commitment.
Marriage is, as the wedding service so eloquently says, to be entered into unadvisedly, lightly, wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding.
And as for it being for the rest of your life, get real.
As Jennifer Lopez will testify, a true celebritys day doesnt really start until theyve got their first wedding ceremony out of the way…’
‘ONE thing we can say without fear of contradiction is that William Roache, aka Coronation Streets Ken Barlow, is not boring.
|”Things get interesting on the Street”|
It is indeed hard to imagine a man for whom the word boring is less appropriate – as Hello! so ably demonstrates with a look back on his 50 years in showbusiness.
The occasion is a testimonial dinner at the Dorchester Hotel in London, during the course of which we learn many interesting nay, fascinating facts about Mr Roache.
We learn, for instance, that he is in the Guinness Book of Records as the longest serving actor in a television serial as they call soaps these days.
We are reminded that during the 44 years he has spent in Weatherfield, he has had 23 girlfriends and three wives (all of whom are now ex-wives).
And we discover that in real life he has had two wives (only one of whom is an ex-wife) and four children, the youngest of whom William Jnr wants to become an actor like his dad.
But William Snr is so much more than a collection of (albeit riveting) facts.
Both his parents were doctors and he wants to give something back beyond the millions of TV viewers whose lives he had enriched and the libel lawyers whose pockets he has lined.
And so he gives talks about philosophy recently to a group of families of bereaved children and also to spiritual groups which he hopes are helpful and healing to people.
Oh, and hes a friend of disgraced Tory MP Neil Hamilton or perhaps he used to be a friend because theres no sign of Neil or his charming wife Christina at his testimonial dinner.
Which is in itself very interesting…’
‘WE here at Anorak Towers like to think we have our finger on the pulse of showbusinesss perfectly sculpted wrist.
|Jen likes to keep Marc under her hat|
We know, for instance, what P Diddys nomenclature de jour, were up to speed on Oprahs weight – shes thin Oprah at the moment – and we can normally tell on any given night whom Kate Moss is sleeping with.
But, try as we might, we cant for the life of us remember who Jennifer Lopez is married to this year.
So when we see the diva on the front cover of Hello! announcing to the world at large that Im happier now Ive ever been, we know not which gentleman is responsible for this felicitous state of affairs.
So, we have to turn inside the magazine where Hello! divulges that these days Jenny From The Block is not just happy, shes ecstatic and smiling a smile of pure contentment.
And the identity of the cause of her happiness is revealed to us as Latin singing sensation Marc Anthony, who could very soon be in the Guinness Book of Records alongside William Roache after completing four months as Mr Jennifer Lopez.
And in the interview that accompanies this piece of information Jennifer reveals that it a shared sense of humour that has kept them together for all this time.
I like a good dancer, yes. I like a good talker, she says. I like a lot of things that are not that simple to define, but I do like to laugh I think its very important in a romantic relationship to make each other laugh.
And who better to make Jen laugh than Marc Anthony, 4ft 8in in his stockinged feet…’
‘SINCE leaving EastEnders a few years back, Jack Ryder has been playing the part of Kym Marshs loving husband.
|Will the honeymoon never end?|
Its a role thats taken him to Hertfordshire and back again as he got to know Kym and her two children by another man, the lovely Emily and David.
It may not have gained Jack the exposure of his last job as Albert Squares Jamie Mitchell, but he has had more than his fair share of nights out with the showbiz set, having seen Kym in Saturday Night Fever about 20 times.
Hes also toured the world. And as if Hertfordshire were not enough (as if!), Jacks work has taken him on no less than two honeymoons.
The first, Jack and Kym tell us, was a disaster. As Kym remembers: Our rabbit died, I got stung on the backside and the villa was infested with ants.
What is more, the wedding and first honeymoon didnt even amount to a 20-page spread in OK!, which is surely the right of stars such as they.
So they had another go. And this time, we can say with no little pride that the six-page spread of Jack and Kyms second honeymoon in Cyprus – when added to the coverage given to their first romantic trip, their non-separation separation and Kyms singing career means the 20-page Holy Grail (albeit in total) lies within their grasp.
And they would have achieved it already had only Jack got himself another job and been able to pad out his answer to the question: What are you doing work-wise, Jack?
So, theyre stuck on 19 pages for a while longer – or at least until Jack appears in pantomime or Jamie Mitchell rises from the beyond ’
‘WHEN the musical of TVs Big Brother hits the stage, many would suppose that Jack Ryder and Kym Marsh would be shoo-ins to play the parts of Stuart Wilson and Michelle Bass.
|Like two halves of a pantomime horse|
But, alas, we fear that once again Jack may not get the gig, since the job of playing Michelle and Stu can be done by one actor.
So similar in appearance are this twosome that, unless Janet and Michael Jackson are around, multi-talented Kym will be able to play both halves of reality TVs great romantics on her own.
Or, perhaps, Kym (or is it Stu?) will opt to play her/himself on stage.
After all, she/he will soon be learning all about stagecraft in her/his role of the princess in Aladdin in St Albans this coming festive season.
Before that, however, OK! whisks off the happy duo to a hotel in Cambridge to talk over what is that made them Best Couple at the recent OK! Celebrity Awards and if there is any truth in the rumours of their impending nuptials.
That is an absolute load of rubbish, says Stu. Would you get engaged after four months? asks Michelle.
OK!s diarist fails to answer, although Michelle may be directing her question to us, the readers at large.
And, if she is, our simple answer is Yes, we would and wed do it under a table on live TV with the lights on ’
‘WHEN we first saw pictures of James Farrell a few full moons ago, we gasped.
|That you, Joe?|
Used to cooing over babies, we were for the fist time forced to search for a new language to describe this rare bundle of joy.
We had imagined wed never see his like again – and, thanks to pixel imaging, we dont have to.
Now, before you gang up on us and tell us how failing to gush over a baby is the lowest of the low, remember that this is no ordinary child.
This is Joe, son of Kate Winslet, an actress who has spent many minutes of her celebrity life telling the world about her pregnancy and her kids.
Pictures were our due. We expected to see slide shows and, if not the moments of his birth and the first wiping of his nose, then at least a shot of the little scamp in his mothers arms.
But no. What we get, via OK!, are shots of Joe with a pixelated face.
There is, of course, a chance that this is his face and his skin is divided into very small squares that render his features indistinguishable.
If this is so, then we can expect to see even more of Joe and hear how his appearance has been a boon to other pixelated babies and their distressed mothers who have lived in fear of showing their children to an uncaring and cruel world.
Or it may be that Kate, or the powers around her, have forbidden OK! from showing the face of her child.
Why would they do that? We shudder to think…’
‘IN Lesson No.3 in Julia Roberts’ series on how to lose you man and make him think you’re nuts, we learn that the actress thinks, if the twin children she’s carrying are born in a peaceful manner, that’s how they’ll live their lives later on.
|”Mad? Me? That’s a laugh!”|
So for the entire duration of her labour, she may be wearing a rubber mask of a style familiar to fans of such movies as Pulp Fiction and Anorak Xmas Party 2003.
She’s also looking to calm her new-born duo with water, allowing them not so much to erupt into the world but to be launched like two rubber ducks into her birthing pool.
But there’s a word of warning for Julia. The kids may live to be paragons of peace and quiet – Trappist monks even – but they may not live at all.
”Every birth can have its problems,” says gynaecologist and doom-merchant Dr Eric Sills. ”And with twins your complications double.”
He goes on say that it only takes a short while for a baby to drown and, if Julia gives birth under water at home, medics may not be able to deal with an emergency.
But Julia must not worry. She must remain calm. She must banish such negative thinking from her mind, just as she has rid her body of toxins.
So we’re sending her TWO sachets of herbal tea, which when infused in her birthing pool will provide a sustaining and soothing drink as she coolly delivers her brood.’
‘WANNA see a 14-hour long tape of Paris Hilton being nasty with TWO black men and a white guy called Brandon Davis?
|”When’s the bloody Stannah Stairlift going to arrive?”|
It’s a sensation. And it’s proving to be scandal in the US of A.
As the Enquirer tells it, two men in Los Angeles claim to have in their possession a video tape on which Paris is seated next to her now former pal Davis at a party.
The black men approach and ask Paris if she would consider modelling some clothes for them.
They then walk away, leaving Paris to turn to her pal and utter the immortal and openly pornographic phrase: ”Dirty n******.”
This black on white action is real X-rated stuff. It’s unadulterated pure filth.
But Davis is unimpressed. He’s seen Paris’s past work and says that such scenes of sickness are nothing new.
”She was forever using the ‘N-word’,” says he. ”I told her not to use it. It was offensive. But she just laughed.”
And that leaves Davis to make a shocking deduction. ”She is a racist,” says he, ”plus an idiot. Every black person she referred to was a ‘n****’.”
And since she puts down ”Jews and other minorities too”, Davis has decide to finish with her.
And he might not be alone, since the Enquirer is certain that as a result of her ejaculation Paris will lose viewers from her TV show, The Simple Life.
A title which now seems to say so very much about the blonde wannabe…’
‘BRITNEY Spears has been piling on the pounds – and the dollars.
|$123m buys you a lot of burgers|
The Enquirer has seen Fortune magazine’s list of the USA’s top earners under the age of 40 and noticed that the singer with raw zits appeal is worth an estimated $123m.
Kevin Federline, Britney’s new husband, makes the list, coming in in an estimated nine millionth place, and so too do some other big names.
Top of the lot is Michael Dell, the 39-year-old owner of Dell computers, who is worth an estimated $17.95 billion.
The top-earning entertainer is Sean Combs, aka Puff Daddy, aka P Diddy, aka that rich bastard with the fur coat on. He’s worth $315m.
Other notables are Jennifer Lopez (age: 35; worth: $255m), Julia Roberts (age: 36; worth: $225m) and Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen (age: 18, worth: $137m apiece).
They are all very beautiful people.
And we recall the days with pride when no-one apart from us here at Anorak Towers said they’d make it.
We, who stuck by them whatever other cruel mouths said about their weight, talent and oddly-shaped third nipples, raise a paper cup to their achievements.
And if they should drop some cash in it, then so much the wiser of them…’
‘WHERE Des O’Connor leads, others follow. And looking at the cover of this week’s Hello! we see Joan Collins cuddling a young baby.
|”I’m not extinct yet”|
”She’s so gorgeous,” says Joan, ”like a little Botticelli painting. I didn’t want to hold her in my arms until she was two months old. And then I just fell in love with her.”
Can Joan be so cruel as to deprive the fruit of her still fertile loins some motherly comfort for the first few weeks of its life?
Well, no, because little Ava Grace is not hers – she’s the daughter of her son Sacha and his wife, Angela.
But the little love has, as Hello! tells us, inherited her grandmother’s heart-shaped face and ”enormous eyes.”
Those familiar with drawings produced by victims of alien abduction will know the look well.
It’s little wonder then that, as Joan says, ”whenever Sacha and Angela take her out, people swarm around her like bees to a honeypot”.
Human beings can be a curious bunch, and while Sacha and Angela’s fellow New Yorkers gawp at Ava Grace with wonder in their eyes, we ponder why it is that Joan likes to be known as Dodo.
”My other two grandchildren call me that,” explains Joan. ”It’s a family name.”
With that cleared up, we then wonder why it is that Joan – sorry, Dodo – is soon seated by a picnic in New York’s Central Park wearing a cowboy hat?
And why her daughter-in-law is doing the same?
But we need not even ask why Sacha, a budding artist, is back indoors painting his little bundle of space dust.
It may be that with such enormous eyes, the flash from a normal camera would bounce back and render Joan and the family blind.
A painting seems the safest option. And will arouse less suspicion.’
‘IF Nicole Kidman were a teenage boy on holiday alone in Europe and Karl Lagerfeld asked him back to his apartment for a party, should he go?
Thankfully, Nicole is no boy, being as she is a woman of some stature both physically and in her role as a major Hollywood star.
So when Karl – ”You can call me Karl, my dear” – invited her back to his Paris home for what Hello! terms a ”bash”, she had no need to be coy or reticent.
In any case, she’d not be alone because Karl had invited lots of his other friends back for fun – people like Monaco’s Princess Caroline and her husband Prince Ernst.
And Princess Caroline’s daughter, Charlotte Casiraghi, who looks remarkably at ease for one so young chez Lagerfeld.
There is indeed some sense of safety in numbers, even down to the fact that, when one of the assembled supermodels and princesses took to the floor to dance to Erasure’s greatest hits, so too did six or even seven of their number.
Meanwhile, while others danced and sang, and Karl watched through his dark glasses, Nicole made her excuses and went off into the night.’
‘IT’S encouraging to see that the recent claims by tanning expert Dannielle Heath have not deterred Posh Spice from going brown.
|”Did I tell you about when we first met?”|
Good on her for sticking to her colour scheme, one that has worked well for thousands, if not millions, of Indians for millennia.
Of course, the tan may be real and, if so, we wonder what panda eyes lurk behind the huge pair of sunglasses Posh uses to hide a large part of her face.
But let’s not worry, because it’s also encouraging to note that having been made to look a fool by Day-vid and Rebecca Loos, Posh has not abandoned her natural gift for being a laughing stock.
So there she is dressed in huge poncho, stepping into a car. And here she is issuing a joint statement with her doting husband about Ms Heath.
”We are sick and tired of people trying to make money at the expense of our family,” says she and he.
And what’s more, we also hear that David is seeing a marriage guidance councillor.
”David was against it at first,” says a source, ”he didn’t feel able to talk to a perfect stranger about his marriage.”
Unless, of course, they worked for the press…’
‘WHEN Shell Jubin stripped off to give Sun readers a glimpse of her nubbins a couple of months ago, she assured us it was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
|Shell was so shy that Vanessa had to hold her down for the camera|
‘The celebrity lifestyle isn’t for me,’ she said, ‘although I have enjoyed the experience. I’m returning to university as a postgraduate and will be buried back in my art books.’
Well, we know the train back up to Scotland is not exactly famed for its speed or reliability, but two months have now passed and the Glasgow art scene is still missing its favourite daughter.
Instead, the Big Brother blonde appears to have reneged on her pledge and is happy to share her thoughts, her nubbins and her thoughts about her nubbins with anyone who asks.
In recent weeks, she has been spotted posing with Jordan in Front magazine and sharing a bath with fellow Big Brother housemate Vanessa in Nuts magazine.
And this week she crops up again in a state of advanced undress in the pages of OK!’s Hot Stars magazine, where she proceeds to tell all and sundry how she’d love to have bigger boobs.
We also learn that, although Shell has never had a Brazilian wax, ‘I’ve given myself something close to that’. A Bolivian wax, perhaps?
We discover that Shell’s lips are her best feature, she sometimes wears too much blusher and her idea of pampering herself is ‘just going to bed early with a bottle of wine’.
Finally, however, to our intense dismay we read that ‘she’s covering up her curves to return to studying’.
We wish her the best of luck and only hope that she doesn’t have to wait another two months for a train…’
‘THE only fashion show that we here at Anorak have ever attended was five years ago for the launch of our celebrated Comfi-Slax range.
|‘Come on, number five! You can do it!’|
Some of the biggest – or at least longest – names in fashion descended on Anorak Towers that day to see the parade of models clad only in our now trademark 100% flame retardant fabric.
The Pomagne flowed, we scoffed cheese and pineapple chunks by the lorryload and it wasn’t long before the queue for the staff toilet stretched out onto the street.
But, apart from that, we have never been tempted to park our well-cushioned derrieres on a front-row seat in Paris, Milan or New York.
In fact, we admit that we are quite baffled by the appeal of these catwalk shows.
There in OK! this week is a picture of Gwyneth Paltrow clapping her macrobiotic heart out, looking for all the world as if she is at a football match or has front-row seats for a world heavyweight bout.
But she’s not – she is, the caption informs us, at her pal Stella McCartney’s spring/summer 2005 show in Paris.
Now, we could understand the excitement if they added a touch of competition to these shows.
They could introduce a race to see which model can make it to the end of the catwalk first, for instance; they could learn a few lessons from the grappling game and have the models trying to wrestle each other off the runway; or they could borrow the old Club 18-30 favourite and get the models to walk along a log suspended over a swimming pool.
We might then understand the reaction of Nicole Kidman, pictured gasping in horror/surprise/delight at Karl Lagerfeld’s collection.
But clapping a load of gawky looking tall chicks just for managing to walk from one end of a catwalk to another…please!
However, this year we’re pleased to see the fashion world have taken collective heads out of their arses long enough to tackle some of the big issues of the day.
‘Dior Not War’ is the slogan on the back of a John Galliano-designed jacket for Christian Dior.
If that doesn’t have all sides in the Middle East laying down their arms, then nothing will…’
‘UNBENOWNST to Anorak, Gigi Morley has been the face of Saturday’s National Lottery draw for the past two and a half years.
|‘Where have they all gone?’|
Also unbeknownst to us, she has decided to leave the BBC1 show to work on other projects ‘including a book on fashion and a series of high-profile documentaries’.
But thanks to OK!, we feel we were at her leaving party as she and her celebrity friends ‘brought a carnival atmosphere to the Eve club’.
And thanks to Gigi and party organiser Nick Ede, we now know exactly what the bottom of the celebrity barrel looks like.
We’re happy to admit that we haven’t a clue who half the people pictured in the magazine are – but, if you can tell a person by the company they keep, we doubt they are Hollywood A-listers.
In fact, it would seem that party organiser Nick Ede has given the bottom of the celebrity barrel such a good scrape that we wonder he has not worn a hole in it.
Who in their right mind would invite quiz show cheat Major Charles Ingram and his wife Morticia to their party?
Why would anyone want to spend an evening with Big Brother loudmouth Emma Greenwood? Or GMTV’s Kate Garraway?
And didn’t any of them have anything better to do with their evening? Like go out with their real friends? Or stay in and stick hot pins through their toenails?’
‘HOW many people can you fit in a Fiat Uno?
|‘Hey! Isn’t that the Pope sitting next to Bin Laden?’|
No, it’s not a joke – we ask only because the white car that was supposedly responsible for the crash that killed Princess Diana is getting fuller by the day.
Let’s see, we’ve got Prince Philip in the driver’s seat, with his son Charles next to him. An MI6 agent sits in the back seat next to a counterpart from the Israeli secret service, Mossad.
Wedged between them are a couple of business enemies of Mohammed Al Fayed, who were not after the Princess at all but her companion Dodi Fayed.
On one of their laps is Osama Bin Laden, the Pope is in the boot with a couple of Freemasons for company and Mother Theresa is strapped to the roof-rack.
Amazing really that no-one in Paris remembers seeing the car that fateful August evening…
But, wait, budge up – we’ve got to fit at least one more in.
The National Enquirer says that Bill Clinton is responsible for Diana’s death.
Not that he was in the car, of course – he would only have drawn attention to it and anyway he couldn’t possibly have fitted all his secret service agents in.
No, Clinton was responsible for Princess Diana’s death because he had pledged to her his support for her campaign to rid the world of landmines.
And, says a new book by a Noel Botham, that was enough to persuade a cabal of billionaire arms dealers, the Pentagon and the CIA to decide to off her.
‘Getting rid of Diana was becoming the only viable option,’ a former intelligence officer is quoted as saying.
And the only way to do it was with a new top-secret CIA gizmo – a flying pig by the name of Jefferson who attacked the Princess’s Mercedes from the air…’
‘JUDGING by the picture of the federal correction facility in Alderson, Martha Stewart has her work cut out to give her cell the homely feel for which she is famous.
|The Alderson prison magazine|
Minimal chic is perhaps the best way to describe the 9ft by 12ft cubicle, which the ‘doomed domestic diva’ will share with another inmate for the next five months.
But we have no doubt that Martha will put to good use the skills that once made her ‘the ultimate in refinement and good taste’ in the eyes of middle America.
For a start, those dirty blinds over the window will have to go, to be replaced by some nice floral curtains.
A little lace tablecloth or patchwork quilt would do wonders for that rather ugly desk; perhaps a collage to brighten up the bulletin board; and, as for the bed linen, yeugh!
But Martha doesn’t want to make her cell too accommodating – according to the Enquirer, the prison is well-known for rampant lesbianism.
‘If you’re a lesbian inmate at Alderson, it’s great,’ says 33-year-old Elizabeth Frame, who served part of her sentence there. ‘If you’re not, it’s a nightmare.
‘I’d say about 60% of the female inmates are lesbian and, if you don’t have a girlfriend inside the prison, it’s an open market for other lesbians to hit on you.’
Especially if your cell looks a showroom for the Ideal Home Exhibition…’
‘IF Paris Hilton did not exist, it would be necessary for the National Enquirer to invent her.
|Accommodation from £120 a night|
The hotel heiress dominates America’s premier gossip magazine in much the same way that Princess Diana used to dominate the pages of OK! and Hello!
This week, for instance, we learn that Paris is a racist – and has been caught on one of her many ‘racy sex and party’ tapes using ‘the N-word’.
We hear that Paris and a gentleman by the name of Simon Rex were spotted going to see the film Shaun Of The Dead in Miami Beach.
We learn that Paris is signing a deal with shoe firm Skechers to deign her own line of footwear.
We’re told that Paris is ‘in supersecret negotiations’ to dethrone Pro Porn Queen Jenna Jameson by producing a feature-length gonzo sex movie.
And, for good measure, we are treated to a picture of our favourite blonde with her left breast hanging out…’
‘IT is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a bus pass should be in need of a wife of half his age.
|‘So, are you my mother or my sister?’|
And so it is that we join with Hello! in congratulating 55-year-old piano man Billy Joel who got married last week to 23-year-old TV presenter Kate Lee.
The balding Bronx-born crooner had his 18-year-old daughter (by his second marriage – to Chrissie Brinkley) act as maid of honour at the ceremony at his Long Island home.
But over the other side of the Atlantic, his achievement was being thoroughly overshadowed by Julio Iglesias’s dad, who introduces us to his new baby son…at the age of 89.
The randy octogenarian became a dad again just four months ago with his 40-year-old second wife Ronna – herself almost half a century his junior.
Young Jaime Nathaniel Iglesias Puga may not know it yet, but he is brother to 61-year-old Spanish crooner Julio and uncle to singing heartthrob Enrique.
Hell, he might soon be able to call Anna Kournikova his niece.
So what does the future hold in store for the soon-to-be-fatherless toddler?
‘I hope he’s got a zest for life and that he’s honest,’ says Julio Iglesias Snr.
And that he too grows up to marry a woman of less than half his age – so that when Enrique celebrates his 100th birthday many years from now he can look forward to a visit from his 30-year-old aunt…’
‘AS a naïve young 24-year-old, Jude Law committed the cardinal celebrity sin of marrying someone older than himself.
|It’s easy to see what Eamonn saw in Sienna|
It took six years and three children for Jude to realise the error of his ways, but we are glad to see that he is now very much on the right track.
Having split with wife Sadie Frost (who is sex years his senior), the 31-year-old British actor has been dating Sienna Miller (a wholesome nine years his junior).
And such is Jude’s new-found attachment to all things youthful that there may even be wedding bells in the air.
Hello! regales us with the story of how ‘a handsome divorce with matinee-idol looks’ got down on bended knee in romantic Venice to propose to his beautiful girlfriend,
And then tells us it’s all nonsense – the couple are, alas, not engaged secretly or otherwise.
‘It’s complete nonsense,’ Sienna says. ‘I am bemused as to where these reports have come from.’
We, on the other hand, are not. In fact, we’d hazard a guess that the Press just made it up.
Something that the woman who is one half of a couple that Hello! has desperately dubbed ‘The Brad and Jen of Britain’ had better get used to.
Which reminds us – did we tell you our exclusive news that Sienna Miller is pregnant…and Eamonn Holmes is the father? No? Well, it’s true…’
‘ONE man who has got married recently is Tiger Woods, albeit to a woman a measly four years his junior.
|Elin couldn’t get the hang of the backswing|
No wonder therefore that the world’s most famous golfer was so keen to keep the Press at a very long telephoto lens’ length that he spent nearly $2m on his Caribbean wedding.
But the best laid plans of men and Tigers frequently come to nought – and so it is that Hello! this week publishes grainy shots of the happy couple at the Sandy Lodge hotel in Barbados.
It also publishes an equally grainy shot of Elin, a former swimsuit model, emerging from the sea in what can only be described as a hard-working bikini.
Bad news for lovers of statuesque blonde former Swedish nannies as Elin becomes a Tigress.
Good news, however, for randy pensioners around the world – Elin has a twin sister called Josephin.
And she just loves incontinent old men who are old enough to be her grandfather…’
‘GIVEN Kerry McPadding’s absence, it’s right and proper that Darren Day and his pregnant girlfriend Suzanne Shaw both wore black for the OK! celebrity awards.
|An homage to Kerry|
Others, though, were not so sensitive to the public mood, preferring to flaunt themselves in pathetic bids to fill the massive void left by our Kerry’s tearful departure.
Just who does Jennifer Ellison think she is in that halter neck top that leaves so little to the imagination?
If Kerry’s diary were in full flow, we’d imagine she’d be using words like ‘slapper’ and ‘prossie’ to explain this pretender to her throne.
Indeed, it’s best to look at the celebrity set as they made their way up the red carpet to take their seats at ITV’s London Television Centre and wonder what dear Kerry would have written.
‘Jenny Powell is such a slag,’ Kerry might have said. ‘That may be Dolce and Gabbana she’s wearing, but it looks more like D&G on her. Or DOG!’
And there’s Rachel Stevens. ‘Who the bloody hell does she think she is, Rachel from Friends with her hair and things? Don’t make me laugh. What a dog!’
And there’s Vanessa Nimmo with Ben Fogle. ‘Just who the crap has she come as? She was only on Big Brother for two piggin’ minutes! It’s not like she won it or anything – not like I did in the jungle. She’s a right dog.’
Oh, it’s too much, we can’t ever hope to compete with the great Kerry.
So come on, love, pull yourself together. Shake a lettuce and get back to being the star you are…’
‘OK! is right again when it writes: ‘Whenever I’m A Celebrity… star Kerry and her former Westlife husband appeared in public, they seemed to be the perfect match.’
He was Pinky to her Perky. His was the jam in her doughnut. They complimented (sic) each other perfectly.
Just listen. ‘You’re amazing, gorgeous and soooo talented,’ said Kerry to her man. ‘And you’re amazing, gorgeous and soooo talented,’ said Brian to his woman.
Here were two people cast from the same mould. From their highlighted hair down to their matching his ‘n’ hers bras and Y-fronts, they just fitted.
But things went bad. And now Kerry speaks exclusively to OK! about what went wrong with her and Brian.
‘As most people are aware,’ says Kerry, ‘I’ve been having some personal problems and I need time to come to terms with what has happened and sort them out.
‘I am going to take a complete break from the public spotlight for a month and I hope that everybody understands my reasons for doing this.’
If this were not horrible enough, Kerry says that her hiatus from the Z-list will also include a break from writing her weekly OK! column, the diary that’s been required reading for every man and his dog.
She’s going away to lick her wounds, off to her mum’s house in Warrington. And she could be there for good, having reportedly already enrolled her two girls in local schools.
‘Meanwhile, back in Ireland,’ says OK!, ‘Brian has tried to hide his sorrow by heading for the pub with pals.’
Or celebrating, if you prefer…’
‘DON’T worry, Kerry McPadding, help is on its way.
|Breast of friends|
The call has gone out, the flares have been lit and Jordan is swinging into action.
Taking a break from baking her ‘speciality’ chicken Kiev and chips, and eating her ‘Jordania’ steak – a dish dreamt up by her insania lover, Peter Andre, and composed of steak, mushrooms, onions, acorns and lashings of silicone – Jordan confronts the issue of the day.
She says that when she first heard of Kerry’s split from Brian, she could not believe it.
But now the news has had time to sink in, Jordan feels really sorry for both of them.
‘You’ll be there for her,’ won’t you?’ asks OK!, hoping against all hope that Jordan will rally round Kerry in her time of greatest need.
‘I do remember what she said about me and Peter on TV – about our relationship being a publicity stunt – and she knows me better than that from the jungle,’ says Jordan supportively.
So you won’t be there for her, Jordan?
Maybe. But Jordan is no hard-faced so-and-so and has some compassion. ‘But something like this,’ says Jordan, ‘of course I will be there for her.’
With a cheery smile and a lingering last laugh…’