Tabloids Category
The news as told by the UK’s tabloid press – The Sun, Daily Express, Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, Daily Star and News of the World.
WI Jammed
‘LOOK out for a flood of homemade cakes, jam and elderflower wine – the Women’s Institute has never been more popular.
|
| Miss Homemade Wine 2003 |
According to the Express, women of all ages are clamouring to join the 88-year-old organisation as a result of the box office smash, Calendar Girls.
The film tells the real-life story of the women of the Rylstone WI who pose nude for a calendar to raise money for charity and become famous all round the world as a result.
‘The film doesn’t exactly portray our meeting as dynamic,’ the WI tells the paper, ‘but it does show we get things done.’
With the WI fast becoming a haven for exhibitionists, we confidently expect the likes of Jordan and Jodie Marsh to be fully paid-up members before the month is out.’
Cat Flap
‘IT’S no wonder EastEnders is trailing Coronation Street in the ratings when the best storyline they can come up with is the mystery of Shirleys missing cat.
|
| ‘What do you mean you haven’t got any spud guns’ |
As anyone whos picked up a tabloid in the past month knows, Dennis Watts is returning to Walford next week. And until that time, producers seem to have put a veto on decent plots.
Gangster Andy is still relentlessly perusing Kat, promising her a trip to New York if shell go on another date with him. Hed be better off wooing her with pies, given the size of her ever-increasing girth.
Lisa has bought a gun from a friendly hit man John, whos even offered to give her shooting lessons. Well, after the pigs ear she made of it last time, she definitely needs them.
Lisa is working on Kate, pretending that she simply wants access to her daughter. And Kate, being Britains worst cop (she started dating her murder suspect), believes her.
Phil has gone an even darker shade of red since Lisas return and is raging round The Square, beating anyone up who gets in his way: a sort of cross between Mr Potato-head and The Incredible Hulk.
Sharon was the latest target of his anger. Shes gone to confront him after Dennis had confessed to her that it was Phil whod arranged for him to get beaten up.
Youre no man, not like your brother Grant, Sharon spat at him in The Vic. Well you should know, retorted Phil, youve had us both.
Phil wont be so confident soon though when Dirty Den returns to his old manor. Dennis revealed to Sharon that their father was still alive but she refused to believe him.
Hed have given us some sign by now, said Sharon. She, along with the rest of the nation clearly hasnt been watching Channel Fives Fort Boyard.’
Widow Frankie
‘IF boxing is responsible for Muhammad Ali’s physical problems, one can only suppose that panto is responsible for Frank Bruno’s psychological state.
|
| Frankie Dettori rides to victory in the 2.35 at Kempton |
The one-time world heavyweight champion and many-time Widow Twankey was last night carted off to a mental hospital after a four-hour siege at his Essex home.
Police confirmed that he had been sectioned under the Mental Health Act after months of depression and increasingly erratic behaviour.
‘He is in a terrible state,’ a friend tells the Mirror (which has a front-page picture of the moment Big Frank was led away). ‘He’s doing crazy things. Every day is difficult.’
The Sun says Bruno’s last public appearance was on Friday when he appeared with puppet Sooty and Sophie Lawrence to plug the panto Aladdin.
Fears had been raised for his sanity when he was heard mumbling to himself ‘He’s behind you’ and ‘Know what I mean, ‘Arry’.
But the Sun says things came to a head at the weekend when Bruno started to believe he was champion jockey Frankie Dettori.
As part of his treatment, it is believed that Bruno will be forced to watch endless reruns of A Question Of Sport in what doctors hope will be an effective aversion therapy.
In the meantime, friends said that the decision to section the 41-year-old heavyweight was for the best.
‘I have been told that he has had a breakdown and is suffering from manic depression but he won’t accept it,’ boxing promoter Frank Warren tells the Mail.
In further evidence of Bruno’s fragile mental state, the Express says the boxer recently accused a tailor fitting him for a pantomime costume was putting him in a straightjacket.
Ironically, Bruno was taken away from his Essex house last night dressed as the front half of the cow in Jack & The Beanstalk.’
Victoria’s Hopes Dashed
‘IT is surely only a matter of time before Victoria Beckham turns up in panto as she struggles desperately to fan the embers of her fading music career.
|
| ‘Okay, which of you wants to play one of the ugly sisters?’ |
And she hasn’t been helped by hip-hop guru Damon Dash, the man who has been working with her on her new album.
At the weekend, the artist formerly known as Posh Spice arrived arm-in-arm with Dash at his London Fashion Week party, while he has spoken of the close friendship they forged while working on the album.
But she won’t be so happy when she hears what Dash had to say about her on MTV show, TRL.
‘She’s not going to be rapping – all we’re going to do with Victoria is give her a hip-hop influence,’ the Star hears him say.
‘If we can make Victoria hot, we can make anybody hot.’
True enough – but, just in case it doesn’t work, we hear there’s a vacancy as the Genie in Aladdin this Christmas.’
A Royal Threesome
”THEY were wild, says girl who spent night with Wills and Harry.’
|
| Prince William shows off some of his dancing skills |
It’s a headline that every paper would love to splash on its front page, but only the Express actually does this morning.
With our imaginations running wild with thoughts of a royal threesome, we read more about Prince Harry’s farewell bash at trendy London club Purple at the weekend.
Student Sue Thompson, who sweet-talked her way into the party, recalled how William spent three hours dirty-dancing on a podium with a string of half-dressed girls.
‘He was having a good time and flirting wildly, and a whole crowd of groupies followed him everywhere he went,’ she says.
‘But I felt strangely sorry for him. He certainly wasn’t a great dancer – his long limbs flailing to the heavy music – but I’ve never seen anyone put so much energy into having a good time.’
Harry meanwhile had a bottle of beer constantly on the go and chainsmoked.
‘He was great fun and up for a laugh,’ says Sue. ‘He relentlessly took the mickey out of my Irish accent and was quite good at doing an impression of it.
‘Although I had only drunk two vodka Red Bulls, my legs suddenly felt all wobbly as the red-haired prince leant over and kissed me.
‘I responded passionately as Harry’s hands expertly caressed my body. My very own Prince Charming! And then I felt a second pair of hands, even more regal than the first.’
”He’s behind you,’ a voice whispered in my ear…”
No Sex For Becks
‘FOR just 20 English pounds, you could be the proud owner of a T-shirt bearing the slogan, Bored of the Beckhams, courtesy of website www.boredofthebeckhams.com.
|
| Day-vid can’t stand to be away from Vicky for 90 minutes every week – plus injury time! |
For the rest of us, a mere 30 English pence keeps us up to date with the antics of the famous couple, with this mornings Star reporting that the pair face six agonising weeks without sex.
The pairs non-stop work schedules mean they cant find time to be together since Davids move to Spain and their love life is a casualty, the paper says.
But the marriage is still solid, according to the couple although they do admit that living abroad has had its frustrations.
However, those frustrations dont refer to the lack of time in the bedroom together, but to the time it has taken them to find a suitable house in Madrid.
Its hard in a hotel room with two young children and not having all their things out says a friend of the Beckhams.
Romeo is said especially to miss his knickers, Brooklyn his new sarong and David his Thomas The Tank Engine pop-up books.’
J-Lo Gets The Bullet
‘ONE couple whose relationship is certainly in crisis is Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez.
|
| Ben is acting crazy |
The Sun catches the two together on a trip to buy a gun in Savannah, Georgia, where Ben owns a £10m ranch – and it reckons the omens for a reconciliation are not good.
They didnt look happy, an onlooker tells the paper. She had a face like thunder and he was equally miserable.
J-Lo had apparently flown to Bens 83-acre estate to talk over their future after the cancellation of their wedding last Sunday.
She was desperate to see if the relationship was salvageable, but things havent gone well, a friend says.
But if Ben is looking to move on, it is unlikely to be with a British woman after the actor branded them all ugly.
At least, thats the Stars version of a very old story after Affleck apparently told Pearl Harbor co-star Kate Beckinsale that all British women had bad teeth and were hairy.
True it may be, but thats the way we like em, Ben. So, hands off…’
Purr-fect Love
‘AS we are on the subject of failing relationships, we can also report that Abi Titmuss has moved out of John Leslies £1.5m home and back into her modest nurses flat.
|
| Abi and her parasite |
Thats the word in the Mail, which hears from a friend that the couple are merely taking a breather to assess their relationship.
They have had a series of bust-ups, the friend says, but this week they each felt they needed some space to sort out their lives.
But could help be at hand for our warring couples from the humble cat?
A report in the Mail suggests that more than a fifth of Brits are affected by a microscopic parasite which is passed on by the pets and can cause personality changes.
It can make women behave like sex kittens and men like alley cats, the paper says.
Women who are affected spend more on clothes and are constantly rated as more attractive, an international study has shown.
They are more confident and less willing to conform to accepted moral standards.
By contrast male cat-owners become more anti-social, suspicious and jealous, more aggressive, scruffier and less attractive to women.
All of which explains why James Bond baddie Ernst Blofeld never had a girlfriend.’
Girls At Large
‘THOSE who are about to be hit by Hurricane Isabel should brace themselves and hang onto something heavy. And the Sun has spotted just the things.
|
| The woman who ate Girls Aloud |
Step forward, if you can, Sarah, Nicola, Cheryl, Kimberley and Nadine, known the tens of you as Girls Aloud.
News is that the good life has got to the band and their manager, Louis Walsh has ordered them to lose weight.
Says a pal of the band: Louis hadnt seen the girls for ages because he had been busy with other acts and they have been on promotional work. The first thing he said when he did see them was that they were looking bit meaty a couple of them in particular.
So Louis, as this pal says, has given them a kick up the backside. And it sent a large ripple of energy through the girls.
As a result, theyve now got a personal trainer, whose put them on boot camp-style regime. At 8:30 am they can be seen jogging thought a park near their home in North London along with new band member Vanessa Feltz…’
Kill Phil
‘LISA, being the sane, rational person that she is, has decided that the best way to get baby Louise back is to kill Phil. This couple have nothing on Jonathan and Jennifer Hart when they meet, it really is murder.
|
| Den’s back to prove there is life after EastEnders |
Lisa, in her new guise as sophisticated woman of the world (thatll be The Lost World), persuaded a hit man to give her a gun after sleeping with him. Phil has nothing to worry about, as a night with Lisa would probably merit a water pistol at best.
Phil has other things on his mind besides his mental ex girlfriend as Dennis Rickman is back in Walford. Dennis is convinced (rightly) that it was Phil who tipped off Andy that he was responsible for Daltons murder. Phil told Andy that Dennis was back, hoping for some backup, but Andy has other fish (pigs) to fry in the shape of Kat Slater.
Dennis confronted Phil in the cellar of the Vic and challenged him to a fight to sort it once and for all. Phil, being in the sort of shape that would put George Best to shame, decides to hire some goons to do his fighting for him. Hardly the Queensberry Rules, but Phil isnt known for his sporting behaviour, having slept with his brothers wife.
Dennis is set to get his own back when a certain Dirty Den comes back from the dead next week.
Elsewhere on The Square other storylines limping along include Nana Moons descent into madness (Shane Ritchies shirts are enough to send anyone over the edge), Shirleys cat turning up dead (lucky cat) and Andys pursuit of Kat.
Ronny finally had his wicked way with Zoe after lying to her that he loved her, and Little Mo discovered Billys insurance fraud and is demanding that he gives his payout back otherwise shell leave him. Not exactly a hard choice to make, surely?’
Lord Archer Is Dead
‘LORD Archer is dead. In his place is a humble man called plain old Jeffrey.
|
| RIP Lord Archer – 1066-2212 |
Jeffrey has never won gold in the Olympic Games. He wasnt the first man to serve Krug and shepherds pie in space. This Jeffrey most likely cant even spell his own name, let alone write weighty tomes that overthrow governments.
Whereas Lord Archer would cruise for tarts and lie under oath to a packed courtroom, Jeffrey sniffs his wifes fragrant hand as they watch old videos of Songs of Praise and dine on Spam fritters and crisps.
We have no pictures of Jeffrey, but the Mirror does have one of Lord Archer, taken yesterday as he spoke about prison reform at Oxford, the city whose college he helped found in the late eleventh century.
The Mail leads with a more familiar shot of the Lord in his uniform. No, not the orange boiler suit with the ankle bracelets tied to large metal ball, but a spectacular red cloak of fur and privilege.
Its incredible to think that such a creature as Lord Archer should be no more. It can only be from envy that hes been slain, stripped of his title, as it were.
And the Sun has fingered the culprit. Its a case of fratricide, as Lord Falconer, the Lord Chancellor, tells the paper how Parliament is a privilege not a possession.
No Lord Archer means no place in the House of Lords. As Liberal Democrat Mp Norman Lamb puts it: It is unacceptable to have people returning from law-braking to law-making.
So you have death of Lord Archer. It didnt happen in a cell or on a prison landing. Lord Archer was simply taken out by the powers that be.
Goodbye Lord Archer. We may never see your like again. Although we suspect that on the morrow you will rise once more, what with you being the Messiah and all…’
Breaking Wind
‘EXCUSE the interference, but writing this while standing in the eye of hurricane Isabel is a tricky thing.
|
| Ever the professional, snapper Jim Bulb took this picture as he was blown away |
Its not the storm thats causing the turbulence but the millions of other journalists, reporters, surfers, and lunatics who have joined us for better view of the 125mph whirlpool of wind.
Looking towards the mainland, we, like the Mail, can just make out the words of greeting left by Americans who have abandoned their homes along the eastern seaboard.
Blow, Izzy, Blow, reads one. Life was swell before Isabel, comes another. Who shot Lord Archer? asks a third, this one written on a T-shirt.
Looking up we can just make out the banner trailing from an overhead plane. It looks like the Presidential jet. Since the Star says that George Bush has fled Washington, which lies in the storms path, it must be.
See you in Hell, suckers, says the banner. Remember God loves you – but he loves me more. Its my duty to live on after youve been swept out to sea and swallowed up by an enormous whale.
Youll have to forgive the Mirrors man in the eye of the storm, Anthony Harwood, for not adding the Presidents farewell message to his report. The lads got his work cut out just standing still.
A photographer has managed to take a shot of brave Harwood clutching what looks like lamppost as all around waves crash and the wind whistles.
And then a tap on the shoulder. Its like a sand blaster, says the man, identified by the Mirror as Nick McClintock, a pipefitter using his welding mask to view the spectacle.
Its Gods revenge, says another storm watcher. As soon as we killed his son Lord Archer I knew we were in trouble. Gods angry. He wants a sacrifice – its the only way to appease him.
So we appeal to you Tony Blair – stop praying and go and wake Leo. It is time…’
Operation Harvest
‘WHAT was a lone terrorist or at most a small cell of operatives has become in the Mails eyes The Illegal Land Army.
|
| ‘Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb…’ |
Cunningly disguised as humble radish pickers – although this Army can blend in with any number of our domestic fruits and vegetables – this nefarious band is living on and off our land.
And theyre waiting for Operation Harvest, a time when what the paper estimates to be hundreds of thousands of foreign workers will burst forth like a ripe pomegranate and get to work.
The paper has seen a report by the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs select committee into the gathering storm, and it makes for a grim read.
The advice is clear. Wash all fresh produce free of any hint of foreign hand. This Army is both clever and devious and most likely that innocent pea has been sprayed with some mind-altering drug that will turn you into a fanatical Muslim.
And stop buying British. Its not. Its Latvian, Romanian and two parts Russian. Are Afghani strawberries really your cup of tea? Your cup of English tea!
The Mail has done her country a great service in bringing this alarming matter to light. Its time to break up this silent Army in our midst. Its time to buy French. The Mail would want it that way…’
In The Dog House
‘WHAT do you call 244 dogs, 16 exotic birds, five cats, two kittens, one rabbit and a chinchilla? Well, until yesterday, if you were Alan and Rosalind Gregson youd have called them family.
|
| ‘They said I was special’ |
But the happy family has been broken up and taken away in 12 vans by the authorities. And last night, as the Mirror says, the couple were being quizzed by RSPCA interrogators.
The quiz is not believed to be multiple choice, but is thought to include the questions: a) How did you cope with the smell?; b) Which fur makes for the best gloves: and c) Do you know where the Land Army are and have you ever picked fruit for a living?
Meanwhile, the Sun stares agog at the Gregsons house, noting the hundreds of discarded dog-food cartons strewn all over the filthy yard, a space that contains no less than five dog sheds.
But what of the shadowy Gregsons? The Mirror interviews a few of their neighbours and builds a picture of a reclusive couple who made no effort to mix, and who liked dogs.
I think hes a plasterer by profession, but we hardly ever see them, says one. They keep themselves very much to themselves so much that we never see them, says another. I said hello to her and she just looked away and didnt reply, comes a third voice.
But the biggest puzzle is not what the Gregsons are like, nor how they remembered each animal by name, but what they did with so much dog waste?
As the saying goes, a Land Army marches on its stomach. Still say you dont know where they are..?’
Fire At Will
‘EVER wise to the ways of the street, we have noticed the development of a new trend. This movement involves hurling things at celebrities.
|
| Do you mind if Vanessa Feltz comes to join you? |
Take the Mirrors story that in the small hours of last night a man was arrested close to the spot where the American conjurer David Blaine is hanging in a glass box. This man was apprehended whilst trying to throw lemons at the entertainer.
Over in the Sun, Blaine is still in the line of fire, this time from a group of London gay activists who plan to hurl sausages at him.
The advice for anyone wanting to join in this happening is to bring chipolatas, which are known to be more aerodynamic than the Cumberland variety and make ideal finger food.
And before you label this is just another London fad, the Star takes a look at developments in Liverpool where locals have been firing bullets at the home of former soap opera actress Jennifer Ellison.
The article speculates on why anyone should shoot at chez Ellison, talking about her boyfriend and how shes had Jordan over to stay.
But we know a trend when we see on, and only wonder who will be next. Have your flakes ready, we think we see Anthea Turner coming…’
Track And Field
‘CONGRATULATIONS to Freddie the tortoise who has taken up our challenge to see if he can move quicker than an ambulance responding to an emergency call with his customary gusto.
|
| Apparently, Freddie was the wrong kind of tortoise |
So far hes ahead of the game, and the Mail says that Freddie has been spotted plodding long the M3 towards Southampton Hospital. To date hes covered a distance of some one-and-a-half miles from his home in Winchester, Hampshire.
Averaging a speed of 0.0034mph, Freddie was due to arrive in Southampton in late August 2010, a full two minutes ahead of the ambulance.
Hes now back at home, limbered up, energised and ready for a fresh challenge. And that could involve seeing if he can beat the new Eurostar train that runs at an impressive 186mph on the Channel Tunnel rail link.
The more sensational news, again brought by the speedy Mail, is that the train is galloping along on this side of the tunnel. For an entire 46miles between Folkestone and Fawkham Junction, Kent, the train will fairly zip along.
It would appear that Flyin Freddie has his work cut out. But hed do well to remember the parable of the hare and the tortoise.
And so it is that the Sun brings news of Freddies ever-narrowing odds of victory. The race gets more interesting when the trains approach London and slow down, even stopping for a nap.
Indeed, the Sun takes a gander at what happened in Kings Cross station only yesterday, when one of those hasty speeding trains came clean off the tracks.
The 07:00 GNER service from Kings Cross to Glasgow left the tracks at an earth-shuddering 15mph. The Sun has a picture of the machine being worked on by teams of crack engineers.
While those with a keen eye can see the mottled shell of our hero in the background. Come on, Freddie, were right behind you as is the 12:46 from Sheffield…’
Off Yer Shopping Trolley
‘FEW things are more satisfying that watching a couple have a really good row in public. It makes you feel so much better about your own relationship – and makes for great cabaret.
|
| Shopaholic Vicky shows Day-vid what to do while she’s shopping |
While we today launch our search for the best rowers in Britain (send a recoding of the barney to the usual address), the Express discovers that the best place for a set to is the shopping mall.
The paper has heard from psychologist Dr Tim Denison, who says that primeval instincts dictate that men can only shop for 72 minutes at a stretch. Women can go on for nearly half an hour longer.
What with men being the hunters and women the gatherers, genetics say that both will end up is full-blown slanging match at 12 minutes past the hour.
This is manifest in many ways, but key, to the good doctor, who knows about such things, is that whereas women will browse, as if looking for wild berries and grubs, men will hone in on their prey, whether it be that Mammoth or those fetching Comfi-Slax.
But we have moved on somewhat. And the Star says that to prevent a good open-air row, couples should split up and shop separately, meeting up later to compare purchases over a refreshing coffee.
And we say, why stop there? Why not bring the toddlers and granny along? Make a day of it. And if you dont have any of your own, you can always rent some.’
Third Class
‘IT might be marginally outside the catchment area, but little Leo Blair could be on his way to school in Slovakia.
|
| ‘If you want to come to this university, tick the box marked ‘yes” |
There he will be able to learn many interesting things. Sure, hell have to forgo that GCSE is Benefits Claiming and the A-level in Faliraki Studies, but he will learn how to read and write.
Rightly, the Sun salutes Slovakia, as it does Greece, Hungary New Zealand and South Korea, which now heads the world league table of secondary schools.
Yes, the league table is no British curiosity – its been taken up by the world at large. Where we lead, others follow.
The Express casts an eye over the table produced by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), which has 32 members.
Britains position at number 22 on the list puts it, in the Mails eyes, in the category of Third World. It also makes the Governments target of getting half of all under-30s a university education harder to achieve.
As Andreas Schleicher of the OECD says: Ultimately what you get in universities depends on what you produce in schools. That doesnt bode well.
But today Leo has produced a very nice collage of farmyard animals, A Study in Colour And Spit. Its sure to get him into dads old college…’
Romeo is Bleeding
‘WILL Brooklyn and Romeo Beckham follow dad into football and mums knickers, or will they follow mum into the department store? Or can all the family talents be combined into one super Beckham hybrid?
|
| ‘See, I told you they would go round your nappy…’ |
The lads training is already off and running, and the Sun leads with news that young Romeo has been out shopping at a department store in Madrid.
What he bought we never get to learn, but we do hear that while out with grandma Sandra Beckham he stumbled at the bottom of an escalator.
It all sounds so innocent – until readers look to the Mirror and learn that the youngest Beckham cracked his head open after plunging off the moving staircase.
A friend of Sandra tells how Romeo lost his grip and fell onto the bottom of the escalator. He never stumbled, as the Sun maintains. He was plunged. And the result was a deep cut to his head.
Quick as a flash the boy was taken to hospital, where surgeons worked tirelessly for almost an entire minute to deliver the vital two stitches to Romeos broken crown.
And at once all, perhaps, made sense. This was no innocent fall, no cry for help but a concerted bid by Romeo to be like dad. With Alex Ferguson not around to kick a boot in his face, Romeo opted for the next best option and took a dive. He now sports a plaster like dads.
How Brooklyn must blush with envy. But does his eye give the glint of a plot being hatched? That Argentinean kid at his nursery had best watch out…’
Death Race 2003
‘HAD Romeo Beckham cut his head open in a British shop, the store manager would have thrown him out for staining the carpet and hed by have lost seven pints of blood waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
|
| ‘Last one to the hospital’s a corpse’ |
But little Becks was in Spain, which, by coincidence, is where Stephen Brown was when he received a call from his mother in Ripley, Derbyshire.
The Express listens in as 86-year-old Clarice tells her son that shes called for the doctor. Shes felling unwell.
Like the good son, Stephen dashes to the airport in Alicante, where he arrives at 1:45 pm. He then boards a plane and takes off at 3pm.
Back in Blighty, a GP has arrived at mums home, and at 2:20pm has order an ambulance. The race is very much on. Can plane beat car?
Youre ahead of us, and we learn, now in the Mail, for which this story was, seemingly, specially written, that Stephen arrived at Derby General Hospital at 10:15 that night – thirty minutes before his mum.
I cant believe we awaited at the airport in Spain, flew to Birmingham, waited for out bags and drove to Derby and the ambulance hadnt even been sent, says a proud Stephen of his epic journey.
The long and short of it that Stephen is quicker than a speeding ambulance, and three weeks after calling an emergency vehicle, Clarice is dead.
Stephen now plans to undertake a new challenge and see if he can beat the ambulance travelling back from Miami on foot. If you have an ageing relative who wants to take part in this once-in-a-lifetime challenge, call Stephen on 118 RACE.’
Family Affairs
‘FAMILY is as important today as it ever was.
|
| Blaine is not the only right tit on display |
We gush with pride as the Sun spots sisters Charlie and Casey Banwell flashing their chests at David Blaine as he sits in his glass eyrie. Their mum can only be marginally less proud of her girls than we are.
And we positively glow with the news that in our fractured, increasingly selfish society the Mirror can still find a family that sticks together through thick and thicker.
No matter that your husband was sleeping with your mum. No matter that you caught them in bed together just 10 days after your wedding. No matter. This is family, and blood is thicker than whatever left that celebration stain on your wedding bed.
The personalities in this tale of family unity are jilted wife Alison Smith, her mum Pat and husband and lover George Greehowe.
The Mirror catches up with the whole happy bunch as Alison plays bridesmaid at the wedding of the other two. He never apologised for what he did, says Alison, but everyone makes mistakes.
They certainly do. And the biggest one of all would have been to let so little a thing get in the way of family.’
A Blyton On Children
‘HAVING moulded the 1980s youth into a conical bra and ripped boob tube, Madonna is now looking to shape the children of the 21st Century in her new image.
|
| Madonna models this year’s Golliwog |
And the Express says shes doing it by the power of the written word.
Seen in a chintzy floral-print dress, Madonna is pictured promoting her latest work, a childrens book called The English Roses.
For a clue as to what the book holds in store for fans of Madonnas literary oeuvre, those looking for more of the usual erotica, whips and bondage, the paper hears from the mumsy singer.
I like little kids better than big people, says Madonna. They dont have any bad habits.
Shes right, as usual. When was the last time a little ankle biter took his finger from his nose and pressed the nuclear button? You dont hear about children killing each other with real bullets – well, not in the UK, and then not that often.
Children run along in gangs of five and seven solving crimes on magical islands and getting into scrapes with dogs, Big Ears and a little black animal-type creature called Golliwog.
So we ask, like the Mail asks Madonna, Whats it like to be known as the next Enid Blyton? Whos that, the new Enid Blyton cleverly replies. Whats she done?
Madonna then opens her weighty tome and with the help of her own two children, Noddy and Mallory, reads aloud. Julian, Anne, George and Timmy were looking for Dick…’
The Day The Music Died
‘TO paraphrase Don McLean, the day the music died for Joseph and Elaine Wright was the day their neighbours took delivery of an upright piano.
|
| Time to face the music |
The Scarborough couple, described as music lovers in the Mail, were then treated to 13-year-old Sophia Havilands many attempts to master the Celine Dion tune My Heart Will Go On.
The works of the Canadian chanteuse are murderous to music at the best of times, but in the fingers of young Sophia, music was being read its last rights and lowered into a bottomless pit.
So the Wrights complained, and a noise abatement order was slapped on Sophia and her tribute to Celine.
Take it as read that Sophias parents are not best pleased. Father Clive, described somewhat ominously as a part-time musician, plans to appeal against the order.
We are a musical family, he claims, before saying how the Wrights complaint is one rooted in jealously.
Its hard to know what to think having not listened to young Sophia. But the wannabe star should not be too downhearted. In a way she has achieved musical fame already. And in todays music business, thats the most important thing of all…’
A Toast To John
‘INSPIRED by our antics, the Star brings news of Roger Kirby.
|
| ‘I’d rather stew in me own fat first’ |
Followers of our work will recall how not so long ago we purchased the very guitar Tony Blair first played with his band Ugly Rumours all those moons ago.
We took up a small hatchet and broke it into small pieces. Each of these small, healing shards of peace was despatched to the worlds trouble spots.
Sadly, what with the postal system in something of a state, not all of our wooden doves made it in time to places like Iraq and Bosnia. But we did try.
And now Roger Kirby is doing his bit for the country and politics. Hes bought one of John Prescotts old Jaguar cars for £2,000 and now plans to torch it on Bonfire Night.
I bought it to burn it, says Roger. I want to show the contempt I hold for this Government and the mess they have made of our country.
So he plans to kick start the clean up of the country he loves by driving his car into a field and setting light to it. Its a move much loved by our patriotic Labour-hating joyriders.
But what with his being a statement and Bonfire Night, we humbly suggest that Roger equip his pyre with John Prescott or a doll-like substitute.
Whats the betting the fire brigade will arrive too late to save the body in time?’
Blind Tasting
‘THANKS to researchers, and the Star, we learn that those worldly Glaswegians buy more Indian meals from supermarkets than people of any other region, and that Geordies prefer Italian pizzas and pastas.
|
| ‘Put those lights out!’ |
Residents of Nottingham eat the most Chinese and those yeomen of Kent love traditional British fayre more than anyone else.
In London and the south-east, the Mail finds that people typically eat salmon three times a day as part of the Perricone diet. Many eat nothing at all, and are known as mod-els and made-for-TV celebrities.
But the Mirror says that other Londoners dont have clue what theyre putting in their mouths, or where its been. Theyre indulging in the latest dating craze from American – Dating In The Dark.
In this variant to fancying someone and asking them out, the desperate and lonely get to play an adult version of the childhood murder game, when the lights would go out and youd attack anyone in your path.
This game comes with wine, cheese and a main course that looking through the waiters night-vision goggles could be a fillet of succulent beef or a furled napkin.
The key ingredient is wit and charm. Since it’s dark, your voice, presence and smell are all the object of your desire will have to identity you.
In many ways, its like waking up after a typical drunken British Faliraki fumble, only with organic bread and something of the consistency of wet meringue in your mouth…’
