Yeah, she was there, dressed A BIT like this…
If you didn’t realise, it was the Pride of Britain Awards yesterday – yeah we weren’t invited either. But, even so, there was a rather ironic turn out, for the most part made up of people who had featured on reality shows, plus a couple of slightly impressive sportsmen. Their job was to sit back and slow-hand-clap normal people. Not celebrities. Normal people. The kind of normal, everyday people who they wouldn’t slow down to watch if they were cowering under a flurry of legs in a roadside beatdown. The kind of normal people they would sneer at if they dared request an autograph without any cameras watching. The kind of beautiful, normal people who had done something worthy of an air kiss from Myleene Klass, because they’re blind, but not moaning about it. Or they’ve had a torrid time of things, but can still muster a smile. Good people. Good, normal people. Yes sir, it was quite a night… judging by the snaps.
The extremely poor man’s Posh and Becks, Joe Calzaghe and Kristina Rihanoff, were there – looking like the kind of couple who might normally spend the evening thrashing around in a rage of angry intercourse. Peter Andre thought he’d bury his woes, and attend wearing a black suit, with a black shirt, and a black tie. Lineker turned up with Bux. JLS blew out Movida with Gaffney and Bowers for the night, in order to further enhance their career credentials by wearing shiny suits, with one of them sporting a dickie bow/neck ribbon that you might find on a 19th Century dandy. Whilst Ronan Keating thought fashion be damned, as he oozed up and down the red carpet, in conflicting outfits – a posh dinner jacket, leather trousers, and a t-shirt. The word on the street is that his first option was going to be a cricket jumper and swimming knickers. We got off lightly.
Also in attendance was Abbey Clancy – the recipient of Peter Crouch’s thin, lizard-like tongue prods – wearing a see-through dress, over the top of another dress, and Kelly Brook, Emma Bunton, and Cheryl Cole all turned up in little black numbers! Cringe! Vernon Kay was there with his dead-eyed wife, and Konnie Huq from Blue Peter rolled up, as she generally tends to. She likes a free party, that Konnie Huq.
In other important celebrity updates, there’s a rumour going around that Justin Timberlake‘s swift hamster-like hands have been frenziedly scuttling around another woman’s taut, impressive figure. His girlfriend in America (below) will not be happy. And Anton Du Beke made a racist comment, then immediately said sorry… two weeks later.
Ahhh, the weird old days…
Nothing karate chops your underpants more than watching a good friend transform into a superstar. One minute, they’re sitting in a pub with you, laughing at your joke about a rabbit going into a butcher’s shop, the next minute, you’re shouting the same joke at them from behind a red rope which divides “people” from “very important people”. They’re french kissing three girls at a time, you’re in tears clutching a bottle of Becks that you found on a table. They don’t know you anymore. Damn it, you don’t know you any more. You’re going to need some fresh jokes.
All of which leads us very conveniently to Robbie Williams, who has been scattering clues all over the place to suggest that he might be rejoining his old band, Take That. The same Take That who stood behind the velvet rope watching Williams romping his way through a cordoned-off, much fancier section of the club, for years. Metaphorically speaking. But now, of course, they’ve been allowed access to the VIP bit, whilst Robbie’s probably straddling the rope, career-wise. Will he make it back into the fancier areas of the club? Will they stop fondling fake bosoms and even notice him now? Is this metaphor really tiring yet? It quite probably is. The point being that Williams is hedging his bets. He’s got a solo album coming out, which might bomb now that his ex-colleagues have been granted a second blast in the sunshine, so it looks like a good back-up plan to sew rumour seeds of a possible full reunion. It will be interesting to see if he bothers re-entering the fold should his next outing succeed. Either way, showbiz desks around the land have become dizzy with glee over this. Absolutely dizzy.
In other news, Alesha Dixon is still souring everyone’s milkshakes with her clueless, meandering assessments on Strictly… And Lacey Turner from Eastenders won a prize at an award’s show, and has left the entire celebrity world agog by not looking too cheerful about it. What is her PROBLEM?
… and something about this dog
It’s always a treat to hear from a member of the Interestment Family, and today it’s the turn of Steve – a funny man with a passion for football. He had this to say about all of the weekend’s action…
Wow, wasn’t it brilliant? The drama! The tension! The near balletic poetry of it all! Could this one be the best ever? Well it was a pretty good, that Strictly Come Dancing line up, but it’s early days yet, and Alesha Dixon is already splitting opinion right down the middle. But enough of the glitzy talk about swishy skirts, let’s focus on the footie. There sure was a lot of maths to get through at Old Trafford over the weekend. Man United won 4-3, that’s an amazing seven goals, with the seventh coming in the sixth minute of injury time, but Mark Hughes thought there should only have been four minutes, while Alex Ferguson thought they should’ve won 6-0. But, but, there were seven goals, is anyone else totally confused?
Horrible little oik Craig Bellamy sure was, his number rage causing him to give a fan who ran onto the pitch a good hard five fingers (well four fingers and a big podgy, sausage like thumb) across the face to teach him a thing or two about counting. There, that showed him. That showed him good. Craig Bellamy can count to five, deal with it, sucker.
Things got physical at Villa Park too, as Martin O’Neill squared up to one of his players, after a row over the last Rolo got ugly:
“There was no wrestling, that was a figment of the onlookers’ imagination.”
Too true, everyone knows that wrestling is pre-planned, and that the only dignified way to settle a Rolo row is with a good old fashioned Thumb War. One, two, three, four…..
Over at Stamford Bridge, everyone’s favourite Churchill the dog lookalike, Harry Redknapp, watched his Spurs side get a right whooping and lose two more players to injury before explaining:
“You can’t go out and play without doing hamstrings, groins or calves.”
Maybe you should stick to the more traditional heads, shoulders, knees and toes before kick off ‘Arry? You’ve just been asking for trouble haven’t you?
And finally, having grown tired of the diamond and Christmas tree formations, Gianfranco Zola shares his new masterstroke:
“I normally like to play with one striker and two small ones behind him.”
He calls it Il Gallo e le Palle, which roughly translates as The Cock and Balls.
Where’s Mummy going? Find out!
For those of you sick and tired of perusing the various Top 4’s on offer, or totally uninterested in anything we have to say about fashion, we have been doing odds and ends for the brilliant grown up gossip site Hecklersray. This week, we decided to have a look at the sixteen Strictly Come Dancing contestants… with hilarious results! Find out all about that here.
If anyone is planning on a Bank Holiday picnic, you could do a lot worse than have a look at the important Picnic Essentials.
UK Disco Dance Finals, 1980, Part One
Wednesday is the most glitzy day of the week – a time for tight groin hugging trousers, shoes with enormous heels, and fluffy back combed hair. Today, enjoy a squirt down memory tap to the olden days when they used to have big dancing contests on TV. Like Strictly Come Dancing, only better. And, should you feel the need, you can watch the entire show…