Up. Kendra Wilkinson
Look, CW has said it before — albeit to itself in the back of a cab, drunk,
owlishly trying to light the filter-end of a cigarette. But still. It will
say it again: love is a crazy thing. It makes one man weep, another
man sing. It’s as sudden as flying ants, as safe as a slippery kerb, and as
mysterious as that W shape on Gordon Ramsay’s chin. Love, CW is wont to say
— as it falls out of the cab, with only one shoe — is nuts. But given CW’s
understanding of that oily, chameleonic sonofabitch — CW has a PhD in LuV —
it was still surprised to learn of some of the latest “romantic
developments” from the US.
You will, we presume, be acquainted with the Playboy scion Hugh Hefner
— an elderly man in a dressing-gown who shares his mansion with dozens and
dozens of very young women. A bit like Miss Hannigan in Annie,
really, but in a “sexy way”. Well, over the years, Hefner has made it his
habit regularly to pick a couple of the resident Playboy bunnies, and have
them as his “special partners”. CW has always imagined the process being a
little like when they ask you to choose your lobster in a restaurant — but
with girls with huge tits in bikinis. Until 2008, Hefner was in a felicitous
position that we could, for want of there being a pre-existing societal
phrase, refer to as a Three Lobster Situation — “dating” three Playboys
bunnies at the same time: Holly Madison, 18, Brigid Marquardt, 19, and
Kendra Wilkinson, 21.
Alas for “love”, however — in 2008, Wilkinson, for reasons that I’m sure we
all will find bewildering, inexplicably tired of living with horny Grandpa
Simpson in his jimmy-jams, and went off to find some pale imitation of a
committed and fulfilling relationship with a ripped 26-year-old American
football player called Hank Baskett. And this week, Wilkinson finally tied
the knot with Baskett, in a romantic $500,000 ceremony — which in a manner
that will test the open-mindedness of even those undergoing gigantic cranial
operations; the kind where they have to take your brain out and put it in a
bucket — at the Playboy mansion. “As [the newly married couple]
swirled around the marquee,” OK! breathlessly informed us, “As
Time Goes By from Casablanca played, [and] Kendra [and Baskett]
were joined by Hugh Hefner.”
And one can only imagine just how romantic that first dance was, as a
83-year-old porn-magnate shuffled around on the hem of her dress, while
presumably eyeing up any waitress under 19. The pictures must be adorable.
Wilkinson then went on movingly to describe Hef as “a father figure”. This
was, presumably, to make it all seem “OK”. Because if there’s one thing that
holding your wedding in the building that has come to represent
licentiousness, misogyny, exploitation and cheap nylon split-crotch panties
at the breakfast table, it’s referring to the soft pornographer who was
"intimate" with you all those years as “Dad”. Like CW said: love is nuts.
Up. Doctor Who
Every so often, CW has to ask itself: is it over Doctor Who? Has it finally
tired of a 900-year-old pacifist with a magic hand-tool, whose mortal enemy
is a bunch of souped-up pepper pots with “Warning: vehicle reversing”
voices? And then CW saw the pictures of the New Doctor, Matt Smith, in his
New Doctor Outfit and realised, no. No, it is not over Doctor Who AT ALL.
For, as the pictures made apparent, the New Doctor’s outfit includes a small
bow tie. Given that this is Doctor Who, this bow tie has immediately become
the most significant bow tie in pop culture since Chaplin’s.
Down. Chiara
This week’s “the Kind of Thing You Say When You've Been Interviewed So Many
Times, and Have Talked About So Many Things, You Just Simply Forget How
Normal People Speak” award goes to the R&B star Ciara. Asked in
OK! about her tips for “looking good on the red carpet” — advice every one
of OK!’s readers will find useful in their day-to-day lives — Ciara
explained she has trouble keeping the weight off. When asked why, she
replied: “I have a very strong connection to food.” A very strong connection
to food? What? That stuff everyone eats every day, or they die? Presumably,
Ciara is also “wild” about water and “totally into” living on a planet with
oxygen and gravity. CW just wishes Americans could say things like “I’m well
into my grub, me” and stop titting about.
Down. Amy Winehouse and Leona Lewis
Sometimes, there is so much gossip of such randomness, that it all starts to
merge in one lysergic blur. On occasion, OK! can read like that
passages in Through The Looking Glass, where the the White Queen
turns into a sheep in a knitting shop and then rows away in a boat. This
week’s rowing sheep are Leona Lewis and Amy Winehouse. Lewis, a vegetarian,
paid a tramp in LA $100 dollars not to kill and eat a rabbit. Amy
Winehousereportedly wants to launch her own perfume. We know. Most people
would guess the “smell of Winehouse” to consist of a heady blend of burnt
spoons, Camden pub carpets, a tiny piece of bile sicked up onto a grubby
vest-top, Jubblies, Marly Lights and doom.
Would this be any odder if we got a tramp to launch a perfume, and paid Amy
Winehouse $100 not to kill a rabbit? Or launched a rabbit at a tramp, while
Winehouse drank her own perfume, and was taken to A&E by Lewis? CW can’t
see a clear way though any of it at the moment.
Up. Mira Sorvino
The Academy Award-winning actress Mira Sorvino has had her first child, a boy,
after a complicated birth. And may CW be the first light-hearted,
gossip-analysing column to welcome one of humanity’s newest recruits.
Welcome to the world, little fellow! Although, in all squareness, you have
just landed on a planet that is, to a greater or lesser extent, totally
batshit mental, there are some great MGM musicals, most people are
reasonably friendly and the coffee helps. Or will it? For Sorvino has fallen
prey to that most common of California post-partum maladies: giving her
child a name so risible, it makes the winner of Crufts look like the name
“Ian Floor”. In this case, the name in question is: Holden Backus. The full
name, presumably, being “Holden Backus The Years, By Simply Red”. Presumably
a sibling, “Iffu Donome By Now, By Simply Red” will follow, in a couple of
years.
Up. Kate Moss
Moss’s grip on the handrails of celebrity continues to display an admirable
firmness. This week, it was announced that she and Simon Cowell intend to go
into business together — forming a TV production, talent management and
merchandising company. However much this is presented as being an equal
partnership — hot off Moss’s huge success as a high-profile designer for
Topshop — CW can’t get over the suspicion that the greater part of her
involvement will revolve around Moss wandering into a room, phone clamped to
her ear, casting a glance over some carefully presented box-folders, and
going, “yeah, gwon. Slright, innit?” before having a fag.
Up. Donatella Versace
CW doesn’t reckon much to Donatella Versace’s new bikini and beach buggy.
Down. Chris Brown
For those who do not closely follow popular culture, it’s hard to convey just
how unwelcome is the name Chris Brown. Until February, he and Rihanna were
the power couple of R&B. Then he assaulted her in a car — the police
report included the peerlessly horrible detail, “bite marks to thigh” — and
he lost his girlfriend and pretty much all his career.
But now Brown has issued a video, saying that he was “truly, truly sorry”. And
then, the pièce de résistance of contrition, he wore a necklace thatspelt
out “ooops” in diamonds. “Oops”, as in “that was a big mistake”. Like when
you spill soup on a book. CW can presume that the ruby, DLT-inspired “quack
quack” pendants will soon follow; and looks forward to seeing Mark Chapman
in a “soz” bangle.
Down. Paul McCartney
Now, look here, CW bows to no one in its support of a pun. This is a column
that awarded itself the entire day off after coming up with the
Beatles/Kray twins pun “A Gay In For Life”. So, as someone who has struggled
with compulsive punning, CW wants to look Britain’s tabloids in the eye and
go: “Guys, guys. Sometimes you have to let some wordplay go. This picture of
Paul McCartney on a bicycle, which you have captioned ‘Ticket to ride’. You
don’t need a ticket to ride a bicycle. Pretty much the defining aspect
of a bike is the lack of a ticketing system. You absolutely, in no way,
associate tickets with bikes. What you’re essentially saying is BEATLE!
BEATLE! BEATLE ON A BICYCLE!” Just be honest about that. Honesty is all we
have.
Down. Swine flu
Until this week, Celebrity Watch had no fear of swine flu. With no “underlying
health problems”, and seasons 2-4 of Battle Star Galactica
racked up on DVD, in the event of bed-riddenness, CW was looking at a
no-quibbles sick note and a week on Easy Street. Bring on bacon fever, CW
said! Crank up the Spam Aids.
However, as of this week, CW is officially “worried” about swine flu. For, as
things stand, there is only one celebrity extant who has had swine flu and
done a swine flu-themed photoshoot: Mikey from Big Brother 6. This
means that, in the event of swine flu furiously mutating, spreading and
picking off 20 per cent of the world’s population, Mikey will become the
Celebrity Face of Humankind’s Devastation, the big, slack-jawed, dim-eyed,
singlet-wearing celebrity face of devastation.
In terms of yawning juxtaposition between the banal and the horrific, it’s a
bit like when the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man appears in Ghostbusters
and then brutally stamps on a church.
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