1 JORDAN, DOWN
Oh, the wild grief of abandonment. The eviscerating pain of becoming unloved.
Sliding from someone’s adored to someone’s abhorred has made wrecks and madmen
of millions. Sylvia Plath never recovered from Ted Hughes’s infidelity — her
heart broke, she wrote Ariel and then gassed herself. After Mary
Evans knocked Coleridge back, he was so affected by melancholy that he
changed his name to Silas Tomkyn Comberbache and enlisted in the Royal
Dragoons. And when the 1st-century poet Catallus was rejected by Clodia
Metelli, he was afflicted by a despair and anger so intense that he
single-handedly revived the ancient metre of Sapphic strophe — simply in
order to write poems on Clodia with a suitable, erotic and often quite
furious charge.
So who is to say that — had such things been available at the time — Catallus
would not also have ended up in a bikini, on a podium in Ibiza, off his face
on WKD, and shouting “You’ve got fat thighs!” at other punters?
For, yes, Jordan, aka Katie Price, was dumped by her husband, Peter Andre,
just six weeks ago. In the subsequent cultural epoch, Jordan has been
indulging in an orgy of heartbroken — and possibly brain-broken — partying.
Last week, the Partying of Heartbreak was confined to this country, with
wall-to-wall tabloid coverage of Jordan blearily knocking back brightly
coloured drinks, and getting into forensically reported contretemps with
fellow clubbers in the toilets (“I’m going to cut your f***ing face!”
“You’ve got massively fat thighs!”) This week, the action moved on to Ibiza,
where the Mediterranean climate facilitated a series of Outfits of
Heartbreak so minuscule that she would, perversely, have looked slightly
less naked if she actually were naked.
There is no pain so deep, Jordan’s behaviour suggested, that it cannot be
nullified by standing in a nightmarish metropolitan cattle market, drink in
one hand, man in the other, practically naked, engaging in a bit of
faux-lesbian grappling in front of a phalanx of international paparazzi.
By and large, Jordan’s Getting Completely Naked and Wasted of Heartbreak has
gone down quite badly with the public — not least because, while she’s been
getting off with male models, her estranged husband, Peter Andre, has been
quietly looking after their three children, including the profoundly
disabled Harvey.
But look at it from Jordan’s point of view. While other heartbroken women sit
on the sofa in sweaty pyjamas, weeping through Notting Hill and
eating six pots of Ben & Jerry’s a night, she’s been out every night,
dancing and having a laugh. From her point of view, this grief reaction has
been a total result. In the game Jordan’s in, swapping a husband for a month
of tabloid headlines, and an inch off your thighs, is a pretty positive
result.
2 LADY GAGA, UP
A common cavil of the older gentleman is that: “It was all over by 1976,
darlin’.” The modern era can offer nothing to the jaded palate of these
armchair pop-veterans — who refuse to engage in anything that happened after
Gabriel left Genesis.
But look upon the present day, doubters! For here is the No 1 pop phenomenon
Lady Gaga, performing this week with a wholly novel line in stage costume.
Let’s admit it, right now: the Beatles never appeared with fireworks coming
out of their tits.
Celebrity Watch suspects that Gaga’s long-term career plan is to turn into a
one-woman Sydney Olympics; and it applauds her devotedly from the sidelines.
3 THE STIG, DOWN
Confusion over on BBC Two’s popular motoring programme, Top Gear.
The show returned for a new series this week and instantly grabbed headlines
when it revealed the identity of its infamous, and hitherto anonymous, stunt
driver, The Stig. Appearing in the studio for the first time, and looking
like a cheap East European rip-off stormtrooper, The Stig took his helmet
off to reveal that he was . . . Michael Schumacher!
Except five minutes later, Jeremy Clarkson admitted that The Stig wasn’t
Michael Schumacher at all, and that it had all been a joke. Perhaps it’s
that CW never watches the show, but the whole thing seemed to be a mystery
entirely without consequence.
Next week — Top Gear to reveal that Jack the Ripper is . . .
Nigel Mansell! And then sort of mumble: “Oh no, it’s not actually,” ten
minutes later.
4 JADA PINKETT, UP
Pinkett — wife of the megastar Will Smith — has been revealing how the couple
have kept their 11-year marriage fresh. Much of the advice revolves around
having sex in unusual places, and has left CW feeling distinctly dull and
conservative.
“Think of places outside that are comfortable to have sex!” There aren’t any!
“Does he have access to his office? Be his secretary!” What — order toner
cartridges and bitch about him behind his back? It all seems rather
effortful. The most confusing suggestion was: “Be sneaky — [do it in] your
girlfriend’s house, at a party.”
Of course, this is quite easy if you generally attend parties in sprawling LA
mansions. In North London, however, it’s rather different. CW must admit: if
it went into its utility room and came across the Fresh Prince of Bel Air
humping his missus over a family-sized box of Ariel Automatic, it would be
quite miffed.
5 BLUEBELL MADONNA HALLIWELL, DOWN
Here we see a picture of Geri Halliwell’s daughter, Bluebell Madonna
Halliwell, using her child-sized laptop while out and about in her buggy.
What we cannot see is what website she is on. However, having investigated, CW
can reveal that Halliwell Jnr was, in fact, on UKdeedpollservice.co.uk —
applying to change her name to “Alphonse Roadblock Animal House Wheeeee!
III”. Just to blend into normal society a trifle more easily.
6 DANIEL CRAIG, DOWN
This week marked a particularly vexing low for Craig, who was photographed
with acne on his nose. “He’ll be shaken AND stirred!” the Daily
Mirror said, with absolutely no logic at all. It made CW reflect on how
awful it must be, playing James Bond. Everything that happens in your life
is given a headline that reads either “00 Heaven” (for good news), or “James
Bombed” (for bad). Imagine if they ever cast Chastity/Chaz Bono as Bond; it
would be “On Her Majesty’s Secret Cervix” every week. Actually, that would
be quite good.
7 CHER, UP
Last week, Cher’s daughter by the late Sonny Bono, Chastity Bono, announced
that she was entering the final stages of gender reassignment. From now on,
Chastity will be known as Chaz.
So far, Cher has struggled a little to cope with her daughter’s decision: “I
respect the courage it takes to go through this transition in the glare of
public scrutiny, and although I may not understand it, I will strive to be
understanding,” she told People magazine.
Could watching your daughter turn into a man be that much odder than
watching your mother turn into Cher? A woman who basically heavy-petted the
gun-turret of the USS Missouri in the video for If I Could Turn
Back Time?
8 THE KRAYS, UP
The News of the World splashed on an extraordinary side-note from history:
that the Kray twins had planned to blackmail Brian Epstein into handing over
control of the Beatles. Although the plan (obviously) failed, CW feels
justified in using several exclamation marks here, thus: !!!!!
While there are many facets of this story to mull over, CW can’t help but
think that its ultimate result is commencing this week’s CW Pun-Off: All You
Need is Bruv; Being for the Photofit of Mr Kite; The Beat-uples; A Gay in
for Life.
9 VICTORIA BECKHAM, DOWN
In many sectors of the press, the biggest news of the week concerned Victoria
Beckham’s breasts. They have, apparently, become smaller. This development
was accompanied by numerous pictorial timelines, showing her mammaries in
every incarnation from 1995 to the present day; waxing and waning with the
changing breast-size fashion of each year.
Enthralled as it was by this mammary memoir, CW is saddened that not one
publication thought to refer to this as a “breast-of” compilation. CW fears
for the previously mighty punning abilities of the British tabloid press. It
suspects that the days of “Super Caley Go Ballistic, Celtic Are Atrocious”
are behind us. It mourns.
10 RIO FERDINAND, UP
Details have come to light of the forthcoming wedding of the Manchester United
footballer Rio Ferdinand. As his wife-to-be, Rebecca Ellison, is reluctant
to be in the public eye, Ferdinand has declined to sell pictures of the
event to celebrity magazines, and is footing the bill — an estimated £5
million — himself. We know! To be honest, we didn’t know you could actually,
legally have a wedding without OK! or Hello! any more.
Guests will be flown out to British Virgin Islands either first class or by
private jet for the five-day-long celebration. It all sounds rather lovely —
until you hear exactly where they’re flying to: Beef Island. Beef Island? It
sounds like the nickname of an aggressively cruisey gay club, not a magical
wedding island.
Celebrity Watch will file it alongside the similarly badly-named Miami
district of Coconut Grove, which CW has always thought sounded a bit
suggestive. “I’m just going to jump in the shower, love — I’ve got sand in
my Coconut Grove.”
