DOWN Gordon Ramsay
Celebrity Watch spends a great deal of its time wondering what it would be like to have sex with various celebrities. It is not that CW is a base, animalistic creature, riding the out-of-control milk float of its libido through a crowded area - with almost certainly fatal results. No, CW's imaginary celebrity lusts are, in fact, a toxic by-product of society. After all, the entirety of our “celebrity culture” is founded principally on whether or not we would “do” a celebrity. No one wants to “do” Posh Spice, poor thing, but everyone would like a bit of fruity old Helen Mirren. And so on and so on.

So imagine CW's relief when allegations of real celebrity sexual intercourse made the papers this weekend, giving its exhausted imagination a break. The shouty Times and television chef Gordon Ramsay has been accused of conducting a seven-year affair with Sarah Symonds, in a flurry of extraordinary details. The address, the time, the number of his hotel suite, the length of their tryst (75 minutes), the price of the suite (£390), what they drank (white wine) and ate (crisps, although which flavour was sadly omitted; probably “sex flavour”, CW is guessing).

The best bit was the mentioning of what the Daily Mail rather wonderfully referred to as “bottles of legal sex drugs”, or amyl nitrate - the implications of which have made the entire country's media come over all coy, but which have made CW go “Aye aye, then”, and reread Ramsay's recipe for coq au vin.

Although CW is generally relieved that the disclosures of Ramsay's sex life have been so detailed - thus saving it the effort of trying to imagine whether or not he does like to eat crisps before he gets down to business - it is still a tiny bit confused. Symonds is described as being a “professional mistress”, having written a guide to conducting affairs with married men - and previously attended to the extramarital needs of Jeffrey Archer, which means that we can safely assume that shy, uncertain men are not her type. But “professional mistress”?

As a feminist who always looks out for her sisters, CW thinks that's a phrase she might want to rethink before cheerily popping it on her CV. It just sounds a bit ... slutty?

DOWN Ashlee Simpson
One big measure of your fame is how stupid a name you can give your children. For only if you are of sufficient stature, with access to top-flight private schools - which are full of other ludicrously named celebrity children - will your offspring avoid being instantly inserted, upside-down, into a toilet, as they would if they were to attend a comprehensive under the name Pilot Inspektor (Jason Lee) or Pirate (the bloke out of Korn.) This week the singer Ashlee Simpson named her first-born Bronx Mowgli. Certainly it's a name that says: “My parents will have their security people smash your face if you so much as titter.” Bronx Mowgli will be good for the Ashlee Simpson brand. Alas, it is also a name that carries a frisson of “raised by monkeys”.

UP George Clooney
Look at this picture. Look! Do you see what we see? Undoubtedly you do. You are gazing upon it, and your eyes are shaking a little from side to side - perhaps even watering as they relay this unlikely, bewildering yet ultimately true, message to your brain: “That is one sexy Hitler.” Yes. He does, admittedly, look a bit furtive, as if he were looking at the Rhineland and starting to think: “I would like that.” But he is, undeniably, one hot Führer. Phwoargh-er, even. Or is it George Clooney, sporting a tache?

UP Kelly Osbourne
Celebrities are here to indicate the “modern way” of doing things. Last week Kelly Osbourne - the daughter of Ozzy and Sharon, sister of the other famous Osbourne who isn't George - became betrothed. The wider world knows of this felicitous fact because her fiancé, Luke Worrall, changed his Facebook status to “Engaged to Kelly Osbourne”. CW has combed its own Facebook account to find this option on its settings, but as yet has failed. It did, however, find a handy “Currently embroiled in a sex scandal with Gordon Ramsay”.

DOWN Robin Gibb
The Bee Gee legend Robin Gibb abandoned a £4,000 flight to Las Vegas last week, after declining to let Gatwick security men spot-check his hand luggage during an extra, random, search. Gibb hugged the bag tightly to his chest, then left the airport.“It was all very odd,” said an airport source. “No one could understand what his problem was. He was fairly calm and not ranting.”

What could Gibb have had in the bag that he wanted to keep so secret? Note that it's just too easy to say “a lot of wigs”. Or indeed - given the other out-sized physical attribute the Bee Gees are famous for - “the biggest toothbrush in the world; condition: quite worn”. Here are some of CW's far more credible guesses:

1) As-yet undeveloped negatives of Gibbs's favourite Victorian canal bridges - mainly along the Shropshire Union Canal, but with some successful forays on to the Llangollen - understandably needing to be shielded from the sun.

2) A tiny wild songbird, raised from the egg by Gibb, and loved by him like a child. A bird whom, should the bag be opened, would panic, fly from the safety of Gibb's holdall and accidentally brutally dash itself to pieces on the plate-glass window overlooking the runway. In a bad way.

3) A stash of men's magazines so inventive that even the airport security staff - who, let's face it, spend all day searching up people's bottoms for guns and drugs, and routinely X-ray honeymooning couples' luggage - would be shocked.

4) Oh, all right: wigs.

UP The Queen
For a woman whose sartorial style could be summed up by the phrase “in a serviceable fabric, ending just below the knee”, this week has been one of revelation. An “informal” snapshot of the Queen from the 1970s has surfaced, showing Her Majesty hanging on a windy beach in some rad flares and a sort of tapestry-ish jacket that wouldn't look out of place on the hot, big-faced man in Flight of the Conchords. Girl gotta say, monarch looks scorching. As with all great outfits, it's accessories that really make it, in this case a jolly straw hat (£2) and Royal Yacht Britannia (£170 million.)

UP Simon Cowell
The smallest details of celebrities' lives are the most important - see the world in a grain of sand. This week: a pivotal detail from the life of Simon Cowell - high-trousered Asda-pop mogul. His ex-girlfriend Terri Seymour recalled how, in one of those fancy hotels where they scatter rose petals on the pillows, Cowell waited until she left the room, then rearranged the petals to read: “Yuck.” Before CW learnt of this, it considered Cowell to be a brutal philistine, stamping down on the face of pop music for ever - and that's even without taking the whole “Robson and Jerome thing” into account. Post-“Yuck”, however, CW would light his fag and call him a chap.

UP Coronation Street
You can't fault the good people in charge of Coronation Street. For with the credit crunch swiftly exploding half the high street, and 127 million people in London alone estimated to be unemployed by the new year, they know it is down to British soaps to keep high the spirits of the country. And how are they doing this? By auditioning both Stephanie Beacham and Kate O'Mara - fruity, helmet-haired bitch-legends of Dynasty - to be Ken Barlow's lover. Ken Barlow is 70. Stephanie Beacham is 61. Kate O'Mara is 69. EastEnders is doomed.

UP Amy Winehouse
Good news, finally, from World of Winehouse: she has, The Sun says, at last dumped her unemployed husband, Blake Fielder-Civil. This follows him going to jail for assault; having the model Sophie Schandorff mouth “I love you” from the public gallery during his trial; and experiencing an “intimate history with drug addiction”, as his own lawyer put it. To be frank, his hat alone - a ratty, sebum-shiny item that screams “DUH” - was sufficient legal ground for divorce.

DOWN Kate Moss and Jamie Hince
After appearing in public with a black eye (Hince) and facial scratches (Moss), the couple revealed that they'd had a “Christmas decoration accident”: he was getting a box of baubles out of the loft and dropped it on her face. But they are lucky: up to 80,000 people will go to hospital with Christmas-related injuries, including 8,800 tree accidents, 1,260 fairy-light accidents and 1,850 “telephone" accidents. CW has often felt a self-lacerating remorse after a “drunk dialling” incident, but never enough to go to A&E.

Times recommends

• Are eldest children really a cut above?
• Peaches Geldof: censored
• Top 10 style-setting films of all time