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Game, Lysette And Match

‘POOR Lysette Anthony. Lysette who? Lysette Anthony – you know, the one who used to be Two Up, Three Down or Three Up, Two Down or whatever combination it was.

‘Do I get a place on the cover now?’

Poor Lysette Anthony – she gives Hello! an exclusive interview ‘about the bitter divorce that led to a new home and new love’ and no-one would ever know.

No-one that is who only judges a book by its cover, which of course Hello! readers would never be guilty of.

Poor Lysette’s painful tale of life on the ill-fated soap Night & Day and the break-up of her marriage to Hollywood producer David Price doesn’t even merit a mention on the magazine’s cover.

Hell, even drippy Big Brother contestant Nush Nowak gets her simpering mug on the cover of Hello! this week and she’s not so much as landed a part in The Bill.

Nush has had plenty of offers, however – ‘modelling, YV presenting and a yoga video are all in the melting pot,’ she tells us.

But she is taking her time to talk it over with her mum and people close to her to see what they think would suit her.

Given that obscurity seemed to suit her so well before Big Brother, maybe she should give that another go.

Posted: 6th, August 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Sketch Booked

‘ON their hen nights, soon-to-be brides are traditionally meant to make the most of their last night of freedom by jumping on every bloke they meet.

‘So, Contestant No.1, why do you want to sleep with me?’

However, by that reckoning Ulrika Jonsson’s entire life has been one long hen night, so the actual occasion was always going to be a bit of a let-down.

Nevertheless, Ulrika and 20 close gal pals (who included Faye Tozer, formerly of Steps, and Cate Blanchett) descended on exclusive London restaurant Sketch to celebrate.

And the evening didn’t go entirely without surprise for the former Swedish weather girl when she was confronted by a look-alike of former lover Sven Goran Eriksson.

‘We knew she’s see the funny side when Sven was exposed as a double,’ a friend guffaws to Hello!

The original idea to confront Ulrika with look-alikes of all her past lovers had to be scrapped because fire regulations at Sketch wouldn’t allow the numbers involved.

Posted: 6th, August 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


It Takes Two To Turkey

‘BEN Affleck knows more about turkeys than Bernard Matthews – he has after all starred in enough of them.

Marriage is just one step closer to divorce

In fact, with the exception of Good Will Hunting and Shakespeare In Love, his films have been so bad that one wonders why he is not back waiting tables by now.

And if he is no better at picking a wife than he is at picking a script, we fear his marriage to Jennifer Lopez will last as long as her first two attempts.

Not that J-Lo’s acting career is any more successful than her marital career – Gigli merely joins a long list of appalling films that includes Maid In Manhattan and The Wedding Planner.

All of which makes America’s obsession with the big-chinned actor and the big-arsed actress all the more bizarre.

They may be a shoo-in for this year’s Razzie as the worst on-screen couple for their performance in Gigli, but that alone cannot explain the fascination.

After all, they are no strangers to the Razzies – Affleck was nominated as worst actor for Pearl Harbor and has twice been nominated as one half of the worst on-screen couple; J-Lo has had two nominations for worst actress in each of the last two years.

But despite their inability to act their way out of a paper bag, they are still, in the words of the National Enquirer, ”Hollywood’s reigning ‘It’ couple”.

And this week for those of us who haven’t been invited to their September nuptials, the Enquirer is happy to give a sneak peek ”at what promises to be the celebrity event of the year”.

Of course, the magazine has got no more idea than the rest of us about what is going to occur – it doesn’t even know when or where the wedding will take place.

But at least it has a few clues to go on, not least the bride’s two dress rehearsals.

The Enquirer looks at the dress J-Lo wore at her 1997 wedding to Ojani Noa and the dress she wore at her 2001 wedding to Cris Judd and decides that this time out she’ll wear a Vera Wang or Valentino.

Why? ”Wang is one of her favourite designers and Jennifer is looking for a traditional, elegant gown,” it opines.

Similarly, we learn that the tables will be bursting with an estimated (by the Enquirer) $200,000 of gorgeous pink and white flowers.

Again, why? ”Those are among J-Lo’s favourite colours.”

But what of the guest list? George Clooney and Richard Gere, it says, make the cut, but P Diddy and Gwyneth Paltrow don’t.

However, watch out for a special appearance from none other than Benny Medina, J-Lo’s manager for the past five years until she sacked him.

He has revealed that he will attend if he is invited. As, we can confirm, will we…

Posted: 1st, August 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Tell Me Moore, Tell Me Moore

‘BEN and Jen may be ”Hollywood’s reigning ‘It’ couple”, but they are not ”Hollywood’s hottest couple” – that accolade belongs to Demi Moore and toyboy Ashton Kutcher.

Demi shows what happened to her offcuts

After only three months together, the Enquirer can report that 40-year-old Moore and 25-year-old Kutcher are practically living together.

It’s not enough that they already own houses near each other (and the rest of Hollywood), it says, but now they’re renovating Ashton’s newest home together.

A Kutcher pal explains: ”When he first bought the place, it was going to be a bachelor pad where he and his buddies could party.

”Now his plans have changed. He wants to turn it into a hideaway where just he and Demi can escape to be together, just the two of them.”

The Enquirer has no more news on whether the two are heading down the aisle together, but it does reveal that the only downside Demi has with dating Kutcher is the mail she gets from his fans.

”They call her a cradle-snatcher and some warn her to get her paws off him,” the Enquirer says. ”But Demi is trying to put it in perspective.

”Most of the letters come from teen girls around her daughter Rumer’s age – 15 – so she understands how possessive and passionate they can be.”

After all, Demi was 15 once – and indeed many parts of her still are.

Posted: 1st, August 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


The Ex-Philes

‘AS Jane Austen so astutely observed, a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.

And she’s got her own Playstation

However, it is a fact not so universally acknowledged that a single man not in possession of a large fortune must also be in want of a wife, preferably a rich divorcee.

And, ever eager to help, the Enquirer rounds up Hollywood’s hottest prospects and, like a game of celebrity Top Trumps, lists their assets.

For instance, if you’re just in it for the cash, then look no further than Nicole Kidman, who is worth a cool $80m – almost twice as much as second placed Sharon Stone, who gets by on just $50m.

If you’re looking for the marrying type, try Sex And The City’s Kim Cattrall, who has three under her belt. Failing that, Sharon Stone and Angelina Jolie both have two.

For age, take your pick from twentysomethings, Brandy and Angelina Jolie, to fortysomethings, Sharon Stone, Meg Ryan and Kim Cattrall.

For likelihood of success, have a crack at Nicole Kidman first, with matchmaker Harriet Shaffer rating your chances as ”good” with the high-flying actress ”ready to chuck her soaring career for love”.

However, if you don’t fancy having Nicole under your feet at home all day, then Cattrall is apparently ”on the prowl” and Jennifer Garner ”has yet to reach superstardom, which means she isn’t out of reach yet”.

Only problem is that she’s a comparative pauper with only $3m to her name – barely enough to keep you in beer and pretzels, let alone pay the cable TV subscription.

Posted: 1st, August 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Beguine Again

‘JULIO Iglesias? Where do we begin – or Begin The Beguine, as he is wont to croon?

A smooth operator

Let’s do as Hello! does and start with a look at Julio’s sprawling Caribbean pad in the Punta Cana resort, a secluded enclave in the less-than-exclusive Dominican Republic.

Very nice it is too. Lots of wood, plenty of views of the azure sea and a nice few palm trees, we can tell you.

And there’s a young bird sitting on his shoulder. Her name’s Miranda Rjinsburge, and she’s clearly very much in love with the aging Spanish singer.

Don’t forget, Julio, you turn 60 in September. ‘Never! Never! No, if I celebrate anything, it will be that my brain and my heart are still functioning in unison,’ says.

‘Until I can no longer distinguish red wine from white, I shall feel as young as I think and think as young as I feel.’

Let’s hope Julio’s brain doesn’t start to deteriorate too rapidly or he’ll be behaving like a geriatric who thinks he’s eight-years old.

Of course, Julio would rather be 32, like the bird we’ve already seen, the one perched Captain Flint-like on his shoulder.

‘Some days Miranda is younger than me, sometimes older,’ says Julio somewhat wishfully. ‘Some days, I can feel 16, sometimes 160’.

Since there is nothing more unattractive than a 60-year-old who behaves like a teenager in the first flush of sexual endeavour, we say our goodbyes and leave Julio in paradise.

Posted: 30th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Hob Nobbing

‘THAT Camilla Parker Bowles is one tasty bird. Judging by the look on the face of the 77-year-old pictured kissing her hands, Camilla tastes of very ripe Lymeswold and Hobnobs.

‘Stale wee. Hmmm, my favourite’

And who can blame the old crow for wanting a piece of Camilla, our Camilla? Every time we look at her we smack out lips and salivate.

As does Charles, who was with his special friend at the Sandringham Flower Show.

Hello! was also there to witness the ‘longest encounter she has ever had with members of the public’, notwithstanding the time she had to queue for hours at the foie gras section of Harvey Nics food hall.

And in the course of the dallying with the plebs, Camilla happened upon the aforesaid 77-year-old, now revealed to be one Dorothy Edwards from Haughley, Suffolk.

Why did you kiss her, Dotty, as if we need ask? ‘I did it because I think she is very good for Charles and she smelt beautiful.’

Yes, Camilla is indeed a feast for all the senses.

Posted: 30th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Carole Singing

‘WHEN brothers George and Ira Gershwin penned their immortal line Nice Work If You Can Get It, they did so with a precognitive nod to Carole Caplin, self-confessed ‘fitness trainer, stylist and lifestyle adviser’.

The sole surviving member of the Hair Bear Bunch

But Carole is still unhappy. ‘The last eight months have been horrendous,’ says she, lying back on a cushion in a blue crepe suit.

‘Sometimes I feel like sitting on the floor and having a good scream and shout. I’m not Miss Perfect – but neither is it my way to be a victim.’

Of course, if Carole did sit on the floor to have a good cry, she’d do so on the balls of her backside, assuming the position laid down by countless yoga gurus though the ages.

Perfect she may not be, but bad posture is hers for the taking.

It’s the kind of thing anyone can learn in the Maldives. Which is a co-incidence because Carole has just returned from a trip to those sun-kissed islands where she was researching a guidebook for the world’s premier spas and gyms.

We know that the best gym is the one with the most mirrors. We know that, but it’s nice of Carole to make a study of the enterprise.

However, the crux of Carole’s life is her 15-year relationship with Cherie Blair.

It enables her to field such questions as: ‘When you see from the TV pictures the stress that Tony Blair has been under these last couple of weeks since the death of Dr David Kelly, what do you think?’

It’s the kind of tricky question that Hello! never flinches from asking. And after thinking about the matter Carole delivers her verdict: ‘It’s a tough and rough world.’

You half imagine that those words are etched on Cherie’s own posterior, a reminder to Tony in more reflective moments that life is what you make of it.

But the most important question is how Carole would like to be known. ‘Cherie’s mate’ is not enough for the woman who wants it all.

If she could choose her own title, what would it be? ‘Consultant and writer in areas of health, fitness and well-being,’ says Carole.

What about one-time topless model and Peter Foster’s former lover, instead?

Posted: 30th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Touched By Genius

‘GENIUS is an overused word, particularly in showbiz circles, but every now and then we all have to recognise that we are in the presence of greatness.

‘I have nothing to declare but my genius’

And so it is this week as we turn to OK!’s exclusive interview with ‘sexy singer’ Kym Marsh.

Now, Kym is obviously a very talented young woman – as the one person who turned up to her record signing in Glasgow recently would attest.

But a genius? Surely that is too strong a word for the former member of Hear’Say – despite the fact that she has managed to nab herself a former soap star for a husband.

Indeed it is, for it is not interviewee Kym on whom we bestow the epithet, but interviewer and OK! hack Amanda Rimmer.

And like all true geniuses, it is Amanda’s ability to make a difficult job look effortless that has us fellow hacks in awe.

She is straight into her stride from the very first sentence of the article.

‘Leaving a high-profile band to find success with a solo career is a brave step that only the most talented few manage to pull off,’ she writes.

‘But Kym Marsh, 27, looks set to join that rare breed of artist, following in the footsteps of Justin Timberlake, Robbie Williams and Diana Ross, whose names have become much more famous today than the very bands with which they started their career.’

And it is a level she manages to maintain throughout the interview, for instance following up the question ‘You’ve got a great new image – do you choose everything you wear carefully?’ with the equally incisive ‘You’re in great shape too…’

But it is in the final question that Amanda reveals herself as a cut above her fellow mortals, asking Kym: ‘Is there anything left for you to achieve?’

Whatever this girl earns, it’s not enough…

Posted: 29th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


The Good Samaritan

‘IN the parable of the Good Samaritan, a man has been robbed on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho, beaten, stripped and left for dead.

Appearing at the end of a tunnel near you

First a priest comes across him and walks by on the other side of the road; then a Levite does the same; finally, a Samaritan takes pity on the man, dresses his wounds and takes him on his donkey to a nearby inn.

These days, few of us travel by donkey and still fewer of us know where Samaria is.

So, for a modern version of the parable we turn to OK! and discover that taking the place of the Samaritan is none other than David Beckham, out for a run in the south of France.

The Bible omits most, if not all, of the details about the original Samaritan’s physique, but OK! lets us know that the latter day version was ‘bare-chested, his muscles rippling in the sunshine’ when he came across a stricken scooter rider.

The man had apparently ventured too close to the black Mercedes driven by the England captain’s bodyguard, causing him to swerve and crash into a pile of rocks.

‘Ever the gentleman, David rushed over to help the stricken biker up, checking that he was all right before continuing on his jog – his second of the day,’ OK! says.

Next week, David helps illustrate another Biblical tale, The Parable Of The Rich Fool, and demonstrates how at the recent wedding of Dave Gardner and Davinia Taylor he turned water into a high-energy glucose drink…

Posted: 29th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Jordan Goes Spare

‘GARETH Gates has denied reports that he was presented with a cake as he celebrated his 19th birthday in a bowling alley in Bangkok.

‘Come out, Gareth. I know you’re in there’

‘They are very hurtful to me and my family,’ said the singer (who claims to be only 18 and 376 days old).

‘I don’t know what I have done to upset OK! that it should publish these fabricated pictures of me blowing out the candles and with a bowling ball in my hand.

‘I can honestly say I have never come into contact with a bowling ball or indeed anything resembling it in my life.’

Not so, says Jordan, who claims that Gareth got his grubby little paws on the fine pair of bowling balls that she calls her chest.

‘Gareth is a coward and a little liar,’ she fumes. ‘He was too scared to own up about it at first, which made me look really stupid.’

And woe betide anyone who makes Jordan look really stupid! That, after all, is her job…

Posted: 29th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Affairs Of The Heart

‘JULIA Roberts is now so much a part of the National Enquirer’s staple diet of gossip and sensation that an effigy of her should appear on the magazine’s masthead.

Another near death experience

And the image du jour has Julia clutching her hands to her bosom and shrieking at the top of the lungs. No, she’s not rehearsing for another Oscar – she’s having a heart attack!

The action takes place in Italy, where Julia and Danny Moder are celebrating their first wedding anniversary at Giorgio Armani’s villa on the island of Pantelleria.

Then pains strike and Julia reaches for her chest, gasping for air and writhing in agony.

‘The pain was so bad that Julia turned pale and collapsed on the bed,’ a source says. ‘She was as white as a sheet as she held her chest.’

Danny was concerned she was having a heart attack. ‘Everyone was paralysed with fear,’ says a source.

The doctor was called but no reply. Again they tried to reach him. At the umpteenth time of trying he answered.

By then it was too late. Julia had taken an ‘over-the-counter’ drug and was feeling much better.

It was a miracle! Or was it indigestion?

Posted: 25th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Butting Out

‘THINGS are changing at the Enquirer. After weeks of reading about J-Lo and her boring romance with wooden, thick-jawed actor Ben Affleck, the magazine is lining up a replacement.

Jennifer Lopez

‘Move over J-Lo, here come BEYONCE,’ says the headline. The magazine then asks: ‘Are they secret twins?’

The simple answer is ‘No!’, but the magazine wants us to consider the evidence, beginning with that most important talent: arse size.

While Beyonce is 42 inches round the rear, J-Lo is a fuller (surely fatter) 43 inches.

And the amazing facts do not end there! They have both worn white hats (picture evidence supplied); both have 34-inch busts; and both girls have worn shorts, although Beyonce’s were red to Jen’s white.

And more amazingly of all, both girls have bought coats made form the pelts of chinchillas. Cosmic link. We think so!

Posted: 25th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Amazing Feet

‘FEW attain true perfection.

Those who think Brad Pitt is the specimen of ultimate manhood should consider his toes. The Enquirer says that his feet are ‘ugly’ – and they are right.

Nicole always demanded a foot double for nude scenes

But nasty feet are big in Hollywood. Nicole Kidman is shown walking along the red carpet wearing open-toed sandals. And the Enquirer has seen the toes – all thirteen of them!

No, Nicole does only have the customary ten, but they are pretty awful, exposing a bright red bunion on one side.

Gwyneth Paltrow is seen walking up some stairs, a selfish move that causes an affront to the eyes as the heel on her right foot is exposed.

Is that a claw? No, just a bruise, but who knows what these things turn into without prompt treatment.

But the prize for ugly bits goes not to Brad, Nicole or Gwyneth but to Cameron Diaz who has hands that reveal her past as a char at the Sunny Glades Old People’s Home, Florida.

A smear of paint covers a small patch of her nails, and the crooked fingers are more lined than a zebra’s bum.

Thankfully, we in Britain do not have to put up with such horrors – a truth anyone who has ever sucked Vanessa Feltz’s toes can confirm…

Posted: 25th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Harping On

‘GIVEN that Prince Charles has a Royal Toothpaste Squeezer, a Royal Nose Wiper and a Royal Bottom Scratcher, it comes as no surprise to learn that he also has a Royal Harpist on his payroll.

‘I knew I forgot something – the harp!’

After all, who of us can get by in this day and age without someone to pluck a few strings and help us unwind at the end of a long day?

Certainly not us at Anorak, who have recently appointed our very own office harpist.

And certainly not the heir to the throne, who has reinstated a tradition that died with Queen Victoria and appointed a Royal Harpist To The Prince Of Wales.

‘To be eligible for the position, you had to be Welsh and under the age of 25,’ explains 23-year-old the incumbent Catrin Finch (who is currently studying at the Royal Academy Of Music).

‘It really was a case of right time, right age, right nationality.’

The same could be said of the Anorak harpist, who tradition dictates must be a 22-year-old Scandinavian blonde (ability on the harp not essential).

But while Ulrika (who just happened to be advertising her services in a phone box next to the Anorak offices) is more likely to feature in your top-shelf magazines, Catrin is very much an Hello! girl.

And she tells that magazine how nervous she was when she first played for the Prince at a dinner for the Welsh Assembly.

‘He said how proud he was of me and how excited he was about reinstating a royal harpist,’ she says.

‘That made me instantly more relaxed about it all. Now I play for him about six times a year and am paid £2,500 for the role.’

Ulrika, on the other hand, prefers to charge by the hour…

Posted: 23rd, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Hugo Is Boss

‘NOT for Hello! any of this Republican claptrap about members of the Royal family having to brush their own teeth.

‘One sees oneself more as a silly point’

That’s Bolshevik talk that is – and Hello! is having none of it, even going so far as to commission Royal historian Hugo Vickers to respond to the Fabian Society’s recent 50,000-word treatise, The Future Of The Monarchy.

If the name Hugo didn’t provide a clue to Mr Vickers’ feelings towards the monarchy, his picture (in blue blazer and tie) confirms him as a man who thinks it’s a pity that the National Anthem is no longer played when BBC closes down for the night.

As does his turn of phrase, for instance in his description of the Queen as ‘a vital long-stop, as opposed to wicket-keeper, of the constitution’.

Incidentally, one suspects that Hugo spent many hours of his youth fielding at long-stop – a cricketing position invented purely to be able to ‘lose’ the worst player in any school side.

‘The main advantage of a hereditary head of state,’ Hugo opines, ‘is that the sovereign is above politics, trained from birth for the job, and gains in stature the longer they reign.’

And they also come with their own harpist…

Posted: 23rd, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Sophie So Good

‘WERE Prince Charles to be accidentally garrotted by a loose harp string, his two sons killed in a tragic (VW) polo accident and brother Andrew die of a heart-attack while mounting his filly du jour, Prince Edward would become King.

‘They come with hair, do they?’

And that means the Countess Of Wessex would become Queen – so we are delighted to follow Hello! around a Surrey hospital to see how the pregnant Sophie is getting along.

And even more delighted to discover that she has reached those marvellous middle months of pregnancy.

‘Happy is hardly the way to describe it. And overjoyed barely comes close to the way the Queen’s daughter-in-law feels,’ Hello! enthuses.

‘Her eyes shine, her complexion is peachy and her smile is as wide as her growing waistline.’

And her husband is still as bald as a coot…

Posted: 23rd, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Last Tango In Manchester

‘IF you, as the TV advert claims, know when you’ve been Tangoed, why is Davinia Taylor in such blissful ignorance?

Rich in Vitamin C

Miss Taylor, now known as Mrs Dave Gardner, is seen in this week’s OK! magazine getting ready for her big wedding.

The former Hollyoaks actress (was ever there a better claim on celebrity?) can be seen stepping out in white knee-high boots, denim knee-length coat and a short denim skirt.

The fleshy bits not covered in this travesty of clothing are coloured a deep and lustrous orange.

It’s no wonder that she ‘turned heads on every street’ as she and Dave toured the shopping hot-spots of Manchester, stepping into swanky Waterstones and ultra-chic Moss Bros.

But Manchester has more to offer than just the last word in books and hired suits – it boasts a House Of Fraser, from where Davinia bought a bikini.

It was then off to the newsagent for some more Tango…

Posted: 21st, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Up Hill Gardner

‘WITH the bride in orange, and the groom in a sober William Hunt suit, OK! invites us to gaze upon the wedding of Davinia Taylor and Dave Gardner.

Davinia, Dave and Becks

As the bells of the church peeled out Oranges And Lemons, Dave and Davinia stepped up to the altar and exchanged vows.

Davinia: ‘I, Davinia, do solemnly swear to marry Dave and stay faithful so long as he remains friends with David Beckham.’

Dave: ‘I, Dave, plight you my troth and say unto you that no man shall split asunder what Becks and I have. With my body I thee endure.’

Vicar: ‘You have been Tangoed.’

Thus married, Dave and Davinia were off to party in two marquees at The Manor House, the name of her family home.

The crowd trucked into hot canapes, including miniature bags of fish and chips in paper cones and mini steak pies.

And, of course, lashings of a carbonated orange drink whose name temporarily escapes us…

Posted: 21st, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Pet Rescue

‘DO people grow to look like their pets, or do pets grow to look like their owners?

‘That bitch is soo last season’

Helping us to solve the riddle is OK!, which scents a (poop) scoop at a charity do for celebrities and their dogs.

We do not know how long Tamara Beckwith has been with her poodle Balthasar, for instance, but the elongated snout, the rolling-over at the command word ‘paparazzi’ and the sheer joie de vivre are shared by owner and pet alike.

Emma Forbes was also there, snuggling up to her daughter Lily and dog Alfie. Or is that dog Lily and daughter Alfie?

How we hanker for the days when dogs were called Fido, Woof and Schnorbitz and not Alfie, Lily and Poppy Holly! Just look at Miranda Richardson and her dog Liv.

At least Philip Treacy, the hat-maker, knows what’s what, calling his ugly little rat of a chihuahua Mr Pig.

And with a name and look like that, he’s bound to be attractive to Tamara. Perhaps she’s found her perfect mate at last…

Posted: 21st, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Happy Anniversary!

‘JULIA Roberts and Danny Moder’s marriage has limped through to a first anniversary, prompting the National Enquirer to ask: ‘Who said it wouldn’t last?’

Colour photography was in its infancy when Danny and Julia married

Er, well, that would have been the National Enquirer, which has been telling its readers for months now that the relationship was on the rocks.

For instance, back in April, the magazine’s cover was emblazoned with the headline: ‘Julia & Danny: It’s All Over!’

And, in case that wasn’t clear enough, it followed it up with another heading inside: ‘Julia’s Marriage Is History’.

Who said it wouldn’t last? Who, indeed?

However, this week the Enquirer is happy to report that the couple celebrated their first anniversary with a second honeymoon – a romantic trip to Italy.

‘Once Julia and Danny touched down in Italy, they seemed to let go of all the problems of the past year,’ a source close to the couple says.

‘They rediscovered the spark that originally brought them together three years ago – and acted like newly-weds the entire trip.’

Of course, having been married for only a year, the couple are pretty well newly-weds – at least anywhere apart from Hollywood where they are now considered the Darby And Joan of Tinseltown.

Posted: 18th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


The Boob Job

‘WHEN Hollywood actresses spend half their life competing to show as much flesh as they possibly can, why do they spend the other half trying to preserve their modesty?

‘I wouldn’t dream of posing topless’

The Enquirer reports on claims that curvy Cameron Diaz is caught up in ‘a sinsational $3.7 million topless photos scandal’.

That is the amount the Charlie’s Angels star was apparently prepared to pay to stop photographer John Rutter selling photos taken of her before she became famous.

‘In the pictures, Cameron is topless and she appears in some very provocative poses,’ a source tells the magazine.

‘Cameron had signed a general release when Rutter took the pictures, and Rutter’s lawyer contacted her reps to alert her there were other people interested in purchasing the photos.’

But the actress’s reps were outraged at what they consider extortion and went to the cops, who obliged by raiding Rutter’s studio.

‘I own the copyright on the pictures,’ a similarly outraged shutterbug said. ‘My lawyer offered her a chance to buy the pictures.

‘I felt it was the right thing to do since so many other people wanted to buy them.’

What a messed-up world it is when a man can’t even do someone else a good turn…

Posted: 18th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Old Dog, New Tricks

‘CHRISTINA Aguilera is not someone who is known to be shy about flashing the flesh – as British rocker Darren Hajul is only too happy to confirm.

We’ve got plenty more where this came from, Chrissy

The Most Wanted singer claims that the 23-year-old ‘taught me some tricks I never knew’ – and he wasn’t talking about playing cards.

In fact, he says, they got on so well that she flew him to her Miami apartment for some more naughty action – and we catch up with them in Christina’s bedroom (complete with four-poster bed and mirrors) with the saucy singer dressed only in a black G-string.

‘I could tell she enjoyed men finding her so sexy,’ he says. ‘Christina whispered seductively ‘Do you like what you see?”

History does not relate Darren’s answer, but the Enquirer suggests that it may not have been an unqualified ‘yes’.

In a feature about the new craze to hit Hollywood, navel surgery, the magazine has that rarest of pictures – one of Ms Aguilera with her belly button not showing.

‘What are you hiding, Chrissy?’ it asks.

We don’t know but we would like to make it clear to Christina and her reps that, should she be less than proud of her tummy-winker, we will happily turn over every one of her navel shots in the Anorak library for a suitable fee.

We’re just trying to do the right thing, don’t you know?

Posted: 18th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Spencer For Hire

‘THE single greatest thing about today’s quest to achieve celebrity status is seeing how low the minor royals and toffs will sink to achieve it.

‘And which window will it be today, children?’

And news is that Victoria Spencer, the former wife of Earl Spencer, has just lowered the limbo bar at the Holiday Inn in Slough a few inches more.

On the front cover of Hello!, the toff who was once Princess Di’s sister-in-law stands more naked than the day she was born.

The only adornment to her personage is the blue heart-shaped tattoo on her upper arm, a kind of ink and flesh equivalent of the silver spoon that once stuck out from between her teeth.

But the interesting thing is what she’s done to her breasts. Whereas the humble proletariat in the gutter inflate their tits with silicon, Victoria has moulded hers into the form of a baby.

And she’s called this lump of flesh Samuel.

‘Samuel is a recovery baby,’ says Victoria, ‘the gift of being clean and sober. He’s a new beginning for all of us [Amen to that] and a wonderful opportunity for healing the past.’

Next week Victoria backcombs her merkin and talks about the fresh challenges that lay ahead for a woman with her creative spirit and freedom of expression…

Posted: 17th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment


Park Life

‘PRINCE Charles has been a stuffed, frumpy old duffer ever since he first pulled on a pair of cuff-links.

‘Do that again, kid, and I’ll chin you!’

But he’s been doing it for so long now that he’s growing into the part.

Like some kind of maiden aunt who surprises the youngsters by suddenly belching at the dinner table or asking her niece if her new boyfriend is good in the sack, Charles talks to the children.

This week he is chatting to youth at the Party In The Park, the pop concert on London’s Hyde Park.

Hello! says that Charles is now dubbed the ‘Rocking Prince’. He’s earned the right to be so, having returned a ‘spud’ with the schoolboy band Blazin’ Squad.

To those not as cool as the fiery hot Prince, the spud is the clenched fist, one favoured by black power activists and now reduced in potency to a one-potato, two-potato streetwise handshake.

Spud done, the Prince is seen kissing Denise Van Outen on the cheek, smiling broadly as he meets the musical girl trio Mis-Teeq and staring at the boots worn by the girls of Liberty X.

As the Prince gets older he appears to be growing into himself more, and also adopting the ground once trod by his Grandma, the Queen Mother.

He’s already moved into her house – and it’s surely only a matter of time before he uncovers her secret gin supply.

Posted: 17th, July 2003 | In: Reviews | Comment