Up: Jennifer Aniston

Here at Celebrity Watch, I like to think that I stand for a few, key principles in this madly spinning world. Integrity. Radical feminism. Weekly calibrating the world's top celebrities into some manner of chart, that I might more readily see what, if anything, it all means. One of my founding declarations is that I will do whatever I can, within my minuscule powers, to overturn the erroneous public perception of Jennifer Aniston. POOR JENNIFER ANISTON. Modern mythology has it that Jen is a desperate, loveless divorcée - a wreck who alternates between looking at pictures of Brangelina and crying, and holding her hands to her ears, screaming, “Argh! The ticking of my biological clock! It maddens me!” I dislike this ghoulish stereotyping. I prefer to see Jennifer as a beautiful, serene millionairess with a close circle of friends, a style aesthetic that really works for her, and a string of unsuitable lovers that are, somehow, lots of fun. This week's Aniston Update is that Jennifer's lover - the “playboy” singer-songwriter John Mayer (nope, us neither) - has supposedly put their brief relationship at risk. Grazia reports that he was overheard in a New York bar, drinking with friends and making jokes about “a certain aspect of Jennifer's anatomy”. I think that there's only one aspect of Jennifer's anatomy Mayer could have been discussing that would cause so much distress. That's right - her hair. And when a boy's dissing your 'do, it's time to leave. Now, I acknowledge that this story doesn't further my campaign, vis-à-vis Jennifer's serene, totemic sortedness. But I have to start somewhere.

Up: the Pope

Last week, The Vatican announced that Pope Benedict XVI would be reading from the Bible during a live TV “biblical marathon” in Italy. This marks the first vaguely exciting thing that the new Pope has been involved with since he got the Popedom in 2005, and swiftly became notable for having absolutely no showbiz chops whatsoever. No popemobile, no amusing past as a goalkeeper, no getting shot. Obviously it is not for Celebrity Watch to make suggestions on how the Catholic church defines itself, but it would be worth the Pope's while to ponder just how crowded the modern media marketplace has become, and to at least now consider a lunch with Simon Cowell/working with a dancing sheepdog/penning an excruciating “sad childhood” memoir called Please Heavenly Father, Don't.

Up: 40 unnamed BBC stars

The 40 stars being paid more than £1 million a year. Monday's report from the BBC Trust sparked speculation on just who the “millionaerials” are. With Chris Moyles out of the running - the Saviour of Radio One is on a measly £600,000, hahaha - the hunt is on to find the BBC's real playas. Titchmarsh? Cruikshank? Fogle? Craven?

Up: the Jackson Five

Here at Celebrity Watch, I find it hard to believe that every conversation of every waking hour, in the lives of every man, woman and child in Britain is not taken up with the extraordinary news that the Jackson family has moved to Appledore, Devon, England, Literally This Country. This is an event from the deepest recesses of improbability. It's like Jackie Onassis relocating to Bakewell. Tito and Jermaine (pictured) are renting a four-bedroom house and hope to bring over the other family members, including Michael and Janet. Presumably, it is a family tradition to do things in reverse order of fame. But what are they all going to do here? What can the titans of Motown - people with the glittering, fleshpot playgrounds of Monte Carlo, Las Vegas and Bahrain at their disposal - be getting out of the Boden-classes' cottage-county of choice? After all, most family sojourns to Devon follow a fairly predictable timetable: feverish over-excitement, followed by inclement weather, an escalatingly tetchy attempt to play Cluedo, and rampant fudge abuse. Is Michael Jackson destined, like every other fortysomething male holidaymaker, to while away a rainy day in the 24-hour Tesco outside Barnstaple, wondering whether to buy a £30 DVD player?

New entry: Bill Oddie

Bill Oddie's in trouble with BBC viewers for referring to a “duck gang-bang” on this week's Springwatch. Although Celebrity Watch personally supports the use of “street language” when chronicling the activities of sundry fauna and flora, I understand why the viewers have reacted in alarm. After all, Sir David Attenborough never referred to an “Osprey money-shot”, or the dwindling population of great pandas as being “definitely either frigid or Jaffa”.

Down: Britney Spears

Last Sunday's News of the World revealed that Britney's fluctuating weight is down to suffering from bulimarexia - a previously unheard-of combination of bulimia and anorexia. This puts Britney into a small, select coterie of celebrities who pioneer new disorders years before normal people even consider them (see also: Howard Hughes with OCD, Richard Pryor being so far ahead of the loop that he set fire to himself smoking cocaine back in 1980).

Down: Amy Winehouse

It has become apparent that Amy is the first superstar to use her hair as her primary means of communication. We'll know that rehab has finally worked when she loses the goth flump on her head. At a gig last week, Amy affirmed her love for jailed husband Blake Fielder-Civil by wearing a scented drawer sachet, embroidered with his name, perched on her head like a twee thought-bubble. I look forward to the couple meeting, following Blake's release, when Amy will presumably pick out the sentence: “Let's have a feast of Nik Naks, Soleros and crack!” in Alphabetti Spaghetti on her head.

Down: Hillary Clinton

After her defeat to Barack Obama, she is said to be “eyeing the No2 slot” - something I would have thought both physically impossible, and possibly slightly inappropriate for a media announcement.

Down: Wayne Rooney

Wayne was planning to enjoy his £40,000 stag do in Ibiza, until he discovered that his party organisers had failed to track down a sufficient supply of his favourite drink, WKD Blue. Celebrity Watch wants Wayne to know that a good alternative is to simply macerate 15kg of glucose and a Bloo-Loo tablet in a half-litre of paraffin.

Down: Lily Allen

Dying her hair pink forces tabloid columnists to revert to using her full name, enabling “Lily The Pink” headlines - thus abandoning the faux-matey Lil that, inexplicably, above all other woes in this troubled world, makes Celebrity Watch want to run around screaming “YOU'RE A PALPABLE HINDRANCE TO MANKIND'S EVOLUTION!” at the 3am girls.

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