DOWN: The Queen

It seems that Our Majesty is feeling the credit crunch. Over the next five years, she has to find £32 million or Windsor Castle will fall to bits. Panicked, not really thinking straight and clearly quite laissez faire about the idea of a revolution, royal aides have apparently floated the idea of raising castle-repair money...from the public!!!! Loyal subjects, they suggested, could ring a premium-rate phone line and donate funds for the repair work.

The idea was, eventually, nixed. But not before Celebrity Watch's startling entrepreneurial acumen - like Melanie Griffith in the film Working Girl, we, too, have a “mind for business and a body for sin” - had been activated.

1) A premium-rate phone line is good - but make it one whereby the Duke of Edinburgh openly explains his frank views on Pakistanis, homosexuality, socialism, etc, at £1 a minute. For added excitement, he should be allowed to shoot at things, too.

2) Just as the Prince of Wales, with his “Duchy” brand, has found a lucrative niche as the Quality Sausage King, the Queen could, perhaps, do something similar. CW would like to suggest underwear. Who would not wish to say “I'm wearing the Queen's pants today”? From such simple pleasures can huge fortunes be made.

3) Announce that “all money with my face on it is mine”, stash it, while laughing evilly, inside a defunct volcano and hold Britain to ransom. After three days, license your “true life story” to the makers of the next James Bond film. Bish bash boosh!

DOWN: The Rock
The WWE wrestling superstar has recently been described by Steve Carell, the American comedian (and Rock's co-star in Get Smart), thus: “The Rock has soft lips. He smells like strawberry shortcake.” To translate this into a British equivalent, it's like Ian Hislop revealing that Giant Haystacks has “sensual” eyes, and the faint fragrance of rockrose and frangipani.

UP: Gene Simmons
“My life is like being on a Disney ride, with lap dancers,” the Kiss frontman said last week. On first glance, that's the kind of razzy, rock'n'roll quote we'd expect from a man who once published his own lifestyle magazine, Gene Simmons' Tongue. But CW thinks it's actually a codified plea for help: after all, can you think of anything worse than sitting in a slowly revolving, giant teacup with a skanky Ukrainian crack whore while leukaemia- riddled children in mouse ears stare at you in horror?

DOWN: Kate Moss
At Glastonbury last week Moss's boyfriend, Jamie Hince of the Kills, ordered 120 toilet rolls on his band's rider. Given that there are only two members of the Kills, at least some of this toilet paper must be going Moss's way. And that quantity of tissue can mean just one thing: yes, Moss must be styling David Beckham's next Armani underwear campaign.

DOWN: Celebrities' dead dogs
Kelly Osbourne's “sombre” mood at Glastonbury (she was “late for a BBQ at the Orange Chill'n'Charge VIP tent”) was due to the death of her dog Minnie. Days later Tori Spelling revealed that her pug Mimi La Rue had also exited this mortal plane, but not until she had transmitted the thought “You have the perfect house, I can go now” to the grieving star. Is a fatal disease circling the globe, striking pets inside celebrities' handbags? First bees, now small, yappy dogs. What species will be next?

DOWN: Denise Richards
The former Mrs Charlie Sheen's divorce agreement may contain a unique clause. In regard to custody of the couple's two children, she is said to have had it written in that they can comprise “up to 10 per cent” of the screen time of her reality TV show, Denise Richards: It's Complicated. That's an awesome level of organisation, devotion and bloodlessness over being on the E! channel at 5.30pm.

DOWN: Barack Obama
The near-universal belief that he's “the new JFK” took a body blow this week. Scarlett Johansson has talked of her “personal correspondence” with Obama; he has rejoined that she “doesn't have my personal e-mail address” - thus, in effect, cyber-dumping her. Tsk. A real “new JFK” would have been hitting on her in Air Force One while Frank Sinatra sat in the corner humming New York, New York before June was out.

UNDECIDED: Kanye West
CW can't work it out. On his blog, West has responded to Amy Winehouse's recent piece of considered pop-culture analysis, in which she called West “a c***”. His reply was: “Amy Winehouse hates me!!! Now I've really made it!!!! LOL!!!!!” You will see, immediately, CW's problem. If West is engaging in ironic over-punctuation and “LOL”, like us, then all well and good. Should he wholeheartedly mean it, however, we must place ourselves on Winehouse's side. Dilemma. :-o.

UP: the Valerie Singleton rumour-monger
The person who first suggested that Valerie Singleton was a lesbian, living with Joan Armatrading: despite CW's heartfelt plea last week, this titan of pre-millennial rumour-mongering has yet to declare him/herself to our bureau du chitty-chat. However, no fewer than 17 Times readers have written in to claim themselves forerunners of the rumour-spreading - one claiming to have told a friend “Singleton is definitely on the other team” as early as 1972. Think, people! Who did you hear it from? The world is waiting! caitlin.moran@thetimes.co.uk.

DOWN: Lee McQueen
The winner of The Apprentice called in sick on his first day at work for Sir Alan Sugar. “He has a flu-like virus,” said a spokesman, as Lee gave it 110 per cent on the sofa, gobbing phlegm into a box of “Atishu” and shouting: “That's what I'm hawking about!”

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