Sunday, September 30, 2007


Is this picture a fake? Click here to find out.

You thought Daniel Radcliffe was the hottest of the male hotties of the Naughties? That may have been true five minutes ago. But now Zac Efron - of High School Musical and Hairspray fame - is the hunk du jour, a status confirmed improbably by September's Rolling Stone which bunged him up on the cover just to boost sales. Meanwhile, Perez Hilton thinks he must be gay because he's got a girly face. Madame Arcati shall of course find a naked photo of Zac eventually (and she she did!! My thanks to Anon) - nothing is beyond her capability as you all know ... [see Daniel Radcliffe]. To Arcati he is a 14-year-old head grafted onto a man's body-built body (actually, he's nearly 20; a Libran) and I'm sure that contrast evokes a troubling conflict of emotion in all sorts of different people. Google reports that "Zac Efron naked" is one of their top search lines ... I can't imagine then what Zac is doing here.

Artist to put his cock in goat in protest over something

Contrary to legend Madame Arcati does not support every notice-me protest by Mark McGowan - his recent tipping of waste in the Thames lacked wit - but I like the idea of him cock-bumming or -cunting a goat for some political reason. I am starting to suspect that McGowan is all talk: if he does not have penetrative consensual sex with the goat I will no longer support him. I will expect photographs and perhaps an internal shot too. Goodness, at this rate Arcati will make Ian Dale's top political blogs this time next year ...

In an extraordinary art event, artist Mark McGowan is to attempt to penetrate a goat in the city of Tbilisi, Georgia. The performance is called DEEP INSIDE RUSSIA PART 2, and is intended to be a protest against Vladimir Putin and his policies concerning ex-Russian satellite countries. Obviously it must be consensual and I am looking to spend one whole week with the goat and become its lover. It's all part of the Caususus Biennale and they have provided me and the goat with a large tent. I am representing Britain.

The performance starts this Wednesday 3rd October 2007 and runs until 10th October 2007. Goat lovers can call Mark on: 07828524056.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Eric Roberts - Julia, call girls and Batman

I bump into my good friend and Julia Roberts’ brother actor Eric Roberts, currently in London essaying villainy in the next Batman movie.

“Visited any call girls, darling?” I ask. “They’re very fashionable right now what with Billie Piper stretching her snatch as the Belle de Jour tart on TV.”

“Nah – but everyone needs sex, y’know. They should legalise prostitution – it would make it more affordable.”

“I soooooooo agree,” I say. “The state loses a fortune in unpaid National Insurance, too.”

“Y’know I run a call girl service – nah, just kiddin’!”

I giggle. “How’s Julia? She played a very nice call girl in Pretty Woman.”

“She played a prostitute who never put out - amazing. Man, that movie should have been a sitcom.”

“Oh Eric, you’re incorrigible – she’ll be so cross to read that.”

“I’m over-paid, over-respected and I’m over here, that’s all I know.”

"You're playing the villain in Batman then."

"I love playing villains - you get the best cars, the best clothes, the best women - and then you get to die."

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Derek Acorah Holidays! Robbie Williams Approved!

The twat-lipped clairvoyant medium Derek Acorah – sacked even from Living’s ludicrous Most Haunted for charlatanism - has thought up another wheeze to make money from the living and the dead.

Now you can buy yourself “a spa break with Derek Acorah” for a “Spirits in the Sun” holiday. “Britain’s best known celebrity medium Derek Acorah will be appearing amidst a whole weekend of paranormal experts, at a renowned 4 star Spa hotel complex on the Costa Del Sol, Andalucia, Spain, [in November]” runs the brochure, click here for more. Well, the ear-studded fraud has to top up his leathery hide tan, I guess, to match the gold highlights in his gelled barnet (love to see the state of his pillows). Very cheekily and disingenuously, he boasts “conducting consultations” with various showbiz stars such as the likes of Robbie Williams. Oooh dear, that’s not wise …

Back in October 2005, The Times ran a fantastic interview with the Robster by Caitlin Moran. He told how he’d been so impressed by Acorah (presumably on Most Haunted) that he summoned him to his Chelsea Harbour penthouse for a psychic sitting. “However, when pressed by Williams to 'go on and do it' — contact the dead — Acorah came up with little more than what a search would yield on Williams’s dead relatives, albeit rendered in a blaze of peerlessly camp Scouse dramatics."

Robbie wisely ushered the psychic hustler out the door, but you can’t keep a professional con down for long. Soon Acorah was on the phone to Robbie trying to inveigle him into doing a Living TV show oblivious of the fact that Robbie has only to fart and ABC would be on the line. Then Acorah invited Robbie to a dinner with him and his pal ... Uri Geller – that too was met with a polite non-attendance. The piece continues:

“I thought, I’m not talking to you, you ****ing idiot. You’re outside the circle of trust. Next thing I know,” Williams says, rattling his belt buckle with his knuckles in a surge of nervous energy, “he’s promoting a DVD in a double-page spread in the Daily Mirror, going “Yeah, I got (contacted on ‘the other side’) Robbie’s nan. And when Robbie’s in America, his friends watch my DVD. Robert de Niro, Robin Williams, Dustin Hoffman.”

Robbie does a face of scandalised boggling.

“I’VE NEVER MET THEM!” he shouts, slowly, as if communicating with a deaf idiot on the other side of the Thames. “I DON’T KNOW DUSTIN HOFFMAN! And hang on a minute — YOU’RE ALSO SELLING A DVD USING MY DEAD NAN!" Robbie sighs.

Do read the whole of the interview, one of the best celebrity media encounters I have ever read. Click here

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Molly Parkin's surfer lover Laban: The interview

Photography: Tommy Candler. Click here to her website. Painting by Molly Parkin depicting her sexual encounter with laban

Some time back (see labels) legendary writer, style editor, poet and painter Molly Parkin told Madame Arcati of her sexual encounter with a 23-year-old surfer in Las Vegas. Arcati has now made contact with her mystery lover - called "Laban". He agreed to an email interview ...

Laban! Thank you for agreeing to this interview - now, Arcati is a pretty frank site so if there are any questions you don't like just ignore them, answer as you wish. Who are you, tell us something about yourself - your job, where you're living that sort of thing - you must be about 25 now? and describe yourself physically ...

Well, approx 5'10 and 80 kilos, I try to keep pretty fit, what with all my extra- curricular activities surfing, helping the homeless, reducing my carbon footprint etc. Work wise, destined to be an entertainer!

And your starsign?

Cancerian, in case you couldn't tell.

Tell us how you met Molly

Pretty much the way Molly described it. I happened to be in Las Vegas for work at the time, got separated from my companions, saw her smartly attired friend (Martin) and thought I would say hi. Looked like an interesting bunch to me....and they were.

Now Molly is beautiful but she was 73 and you 23 when you encountered - what was it about her that caused you to, er, tumesce?

Such sexuality oozed forth from Molly that the divide of 50 years vanished as fast as my inhibitions.

Did you know that Molly was a famous writer?

No, not at the time. I only found out through conversations over breakfast with both Molly's confidants. It was quite exciting finding out that Molly had been on one of my favorite shows, Parkinson.

In her poem Molly says you proposed sex on the spot. Was this the case?

Just about. I used a secret line that never fails, I'll be taking that one to my grave (oh and by the way, far better than the one Michael Douglas used on Catherine Zeta-Jones).

Where did the sexual act occur? Was it within earshot of any place? You didn't wear a condom, did you, naughty man .... what about your clothes ....?

As Molly described, the men's bathroom. It was our only place of sanctuary in a very spur of the moment decision. Regarding surroundings, there was the odd intrepid cleaner (I believe it was quite early in the morn) but nothing that was going to stop us! Regarding the clothes, my pants sank faster than the titanic and Molly's silk undergarments went up like greased lightening, there were thrills, spills and ......

This is a delicate question, but would you say that making love with an older woman is different in any respect from that with a young woman. Feel free to elaborate in extremis ....

You know that scene in Enemy At The Gates with Jude law & Rachel Weisz. Kinda like that.... but with slot machines.

Afterwards, what happened? Did you talk much? Exchange numbers? Promise to see each other again?

Well I promised I would visit if ever in the area. However so far I haven't made it that far north of the equator.

Are you with someone now?

Not presently. I have been enjoying my singledom!

You still a surfer?

Have been playing rugby more recently. Keeping my creamy sport playing legs in shape!

Would you describe yourself as quite sexually forward and experienced?

Well I've been told on a few occasions that I'm pretty out there sexually. Truth is, if you look on the Internet for some of that crazy other shit people get up to, I reckon you would find me looking like a Nun. However, I would hate to discover something completely brilliant right before I die, so I figure how many times do you live!

Tell us more what your mates think of you and Molly?

Ha, the boys didn't believe me until they discovered some of the articles online. I think they thought I'd completely lost it, they know what I'm like. It was pretty out there and they had plenty of questions. They love the painting Molly commissioned. They have been hounding me to ask Molly to send it over and mount it in the lounge room.

Would you like to see Molly again?

Would love too.

Finally, send us a pic, go on ....

Ah yes, the picture....I'm sure your highly intelligent and articulate readers have envisaged many different ideas of what I may look like, so for the mean time....I'll keep them all guessing....but for how long!



Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Rupert Murdoch finds his writerly Riefenstahl

A few weeks ago I joked that Michael Wolff's recent Vanity Fair piece on Rupert Murdoch read like a job application. How psychic of me! Now I learn, belatedly it must be said, that Wolff has landed a great gig - writing Murdoch's biography for about £750k. Rupes will have crumpled his creped mug into what some might call a wry smile at Wolff's little piece of adjectivally-enhanced hagiography - or penetrative arse-licking to give it its proper term. No wonder our age's leading Islamophobe is happy to cooperate in the birth of a semi-authorised apologia. Wolff has a child in the employ of Rupes by the way - a useful hostage on the perilous march to 2009 publication.

Earlier Wolff piece click here

Monday, September 24, 2007

Kate Middleton - and the Geordie Greig connection

Is there no end to the talents of the "Napoleonic" Tatler editor Geordie Greig? Not just a celebrity schmoozer par excellence - Britain's "best connected man", according to an Observer profile in 2005 - and a glittery satellite to sooooooooooo many major literary kings and queens, he is also, I discover, the unpaid PR adviser and agony uncle to Kate Middleton, no less.

In the last year or so, Greig has stretched his editorial condom into her media relations and guided many of Kate's public and private moves - why, he even advised her on how to play the game when Prince William dumped her and reel him in back to her bosom. I don't have a transcript but, post-the dump, Greig certainly did not discourage darling Kate from getting herself seen in various upmarket nightclubs or exhibiting her dazzling smile for the paps. The calculation, inter alia, was that the future heir to the throne might wonder what he was missing as (1) his then much- maligned ex-girlfriend failed to be seen boo-hooing into her premature "Wills & Kate" commemorative tea mug, as (2) various snobbish "sources" disgracefully rubbished her mother and family gene pool.

Greig is indeed a canny editor though I would seek to dissuade anyone from any cynical or reductive analysis of motive.

Murdochs on Facebook - hardly gossip, darling

Another sweety-pops friend of the Cult of Arcati writes to point out a little tardiness in the Observer's gossip column apropos Facebook and the presence of a nest of MySpace-owning Murdochs thereon ...

Greetings, Madame!

I hope this finds you well.

Just a small thing, but irritating... The Observer's Pendennis, Oliver Marre, is incredibly pleased with himself today, since he is 'able to reveal' that Rupert Murdoch's daughter, Elizabeth, 'is the latest member of the family to have signed up to the Facebook online networking website.' This comes on the back of his previous 'revelation', not long ago, that Lachlan and Sarah Murdoch had joined Facebook, despite Lachlan's pater having shelled out tens of millions to buy up Myspace.

Dear Oli really is slow off the mark. My own casual Facebook trawlings back in June - via the basic search function that absolutely anybody can use - showed that all three of the afore-mentioned Murdochs were active members back then; I was surprised that the amusing Facebook/Myspace conflict of familial interest hadn't already been picked up. Matthew Freud's full Facebook profile is publicly viewable, and his news feed shows that his lovely wife sent him a lipstick kiss on June 26, with the message 'From me to you. xxxx' So much for her having just joined, and so much for Marre's electrifying research skills.

Oh, and he doesn't even spell her name correctly. As Ms Minnelli might have put it: it's Elisabeth - with an 's', not a 'z'.

Very best

Sir ...[initial withheld]

PS: A noticeable lack of heartwarming family anecdotes, and mentions of 'the Husband' (previously a regular cast member), in Allison Pearson's columns of late. Absolutely zilch, actually. Wonder why?

Dear Sir ....

Thank you for these observations. Allison is a devoted reader of Arcati and has wisely adapted to public knowledge of her domestic arrangements. I am still awaiting an invitation to her wedding; a Christian one it is to be hoped ...

Best wishes MA x

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Charles Lambert ... on murdered friends ...

The writer Charles Lambert writes from Italy in response to my Robert Tewdwr Moss postings ...

It's small comfort, I know, but at least the murderers were arrested and convicted. A dear friend of mine - an American writer called Lou Inturrisi - was killed in a similar fashion some years ago in Rome and the murderer was never identified, although it's believed that he fled to Spain. The murderers of two other people I knew were arrested but played the 'he tried it on' card and saw their sentences reduced.

See Charles' site click here

Duncan Fallowell - back at The First Post!

Duncan Fallowell is back writing for The First Post - do read his marvellous piece on The Sound of Music which is reissued next week. Click here. My campaign of horror worked; who can resist the mystical power of Madame Arcati?

Friday, September 21, 2007

Roger Alton and trouble at t'Observer

A poppet insider relates the following ...

Your Gorgeousness

Keep an eye on the Observer over the next weeks. The rumour in the week that editor Roger Alton had got the push/resigned not entirely without foundation as there is now a huge wedge between the Guardian and The Observer. (And this in the week when there was an awayday for senior execs to discuss greater integration.)

This is the result of news ed Kamal Ahmed getting to keep his job - the result of an investigation into the embarrassment over the MMR splash that wasn't a story of two months ago (Catch up here, on the very good bad science website, The Scott Trust got involved, editor Roger Alton had to go to before them and receive six of the best like a naughty schoolboy.

Alton, in turn, is annoyed because, despite a sustained pisspoor news performance, Alton has done his best to support ailing news ed Ahmed who was seen crying in the editor's office last week.. Not for long, if the experienced hands in the newsroom get their way - Alton has now realised that a news ed who behaves all the time like a pre-teen who's drunk too much fizzy pop is perhaps not a good idea. And some of the older reporters don't want to work for him. Watch this space...

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Suzanne Moore writes ...

Darling Suzanne Moore - of fuck-me shoes fame (copyright G Greer) - writes a short note following my New Statesman party report ...

Madame you flatter me. Not six inches - barely three! Strange do though....I didn't meet the only person I wanted to meet.
Suzanne X

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Ian Halperin - Spacey is the Hollywood norm

The pity of Ian Halperin’s otherwise tremendously readable new book Hollywood Undercover: Revealing the Sordid Secrets of Tinseltown is that he can’t name the A-listers he thinks are gay closet cases.

Kevin Spacey is scarcely even alluded to – but then he’s semi-detached from Tinseltown these days – and arguably always was. He’s class, you see; not like those trash stars who end up featured in The Homes of the Rich & Famous. When I meet Ian for a chat I ask him about Tom Cruise. He says: “People everywhere said he was gay but I found no proof. There’s no smoking gun.” I don’t believe it. But he’s happy to confirm that John Travolta “was” gay but may now be straight thanks to Scientology auditing. I don’t believe that either - that he's completely straight. Few people are, and some are gayer than others, of course.

Another pity of the book is that Halperin really is quite naïve and uninformed of Hollywood life in some particulars. His intention is to reveal the sordid underbelly of Tinseltown and to that end he reinvents himself as a wannabe actor called His Highness. On his journey he encounters the Masonic-like Queers of the Round Table – a bunch of influential queens who like to name the cock-cockers and cunt-cunters of stage and screen.

Halperin is astonished to learn that about 75% of male actors are gay – up to 95% in the theatre. In my interview Halperin says “Nine out of 10 male actors are gay.” Dykes match the national average – about 10% or less. He finds it hard to believe that Hollywood is still homophobic: so the Queers spell out to him what’s riding on an A-lister hunk: millions and millions of dollars. Women sitting in their fabric pews need to believe that the incarnation of celluloid cock before them would like to fuck them if only they had the chance. Belief – it’s at the core of everything. Pulp Fiction; Vatican City; Christopher Hitchens’ atheistic fantasies. Belief equals money.

It works the same way with men – “Look what happened to Anne Heche after she came out as Ellen DeGeneres’ girlfriend,” says a Queer. “Six Days, Seven Nights … tanked. Not because it was terrible but because men could no longer go to the movies and picture themselves boffing her.”

Halperin learns of actresses who marry gay or bisexual men for payment and promises of a glittering career. One B-list actress I know of was bought for $5m to marry an A-list actor and be his beard - now she's an A-lister too, though happily divorced and unhappily remarried to a straight fuck up.

The book starts with one of many curious chance encounters: in a London park he bumps into Ava Gardner, then in exile from Frank Sinatra and his mob friends. Ian scarcely knows who she is. She tells him how Frank beat her and was hung like a mule, as if we’d never heard this before. Still, they become friends. Later, with the Queers, he can’t believe that James Dean was gay – I mean, which planet is he on? Still, interesting detail is thrown up. The going rate for a call boy is $2,000. The Queers’ gossip is presented as Popbitch-type teasers – which married A-lister likes to be shat and pissed on? I haven’t a clue.

A high point is his encounter with the late Anna Nicole Smith. She takes him to Marilyn Monroe's pink crypt in LA and then, after reciting the Monroe funeral eulogy, asks Halperin to fuck her by the grave side. He does while "Marilyn smiles down on them".

On his journey through the stalls of Hollywood, His Highness encounters low-life grotesques, confidence tricksters, sleazy liars and abusers: Hollywood is enchanted by any association with royalty, and as Halperin tells it, even falls for his claim to be of the Israeli royal family (perhaps the mugs were thinking of Jewish princesses …).

I asked Ian what wanted prompted him to write the book.

“A friend went to Hollywood to seek her fortune as an actress. First she maxed her credit cards. Within 8-9 months she became addicted to drugs and turned to prostitution, then jumped off the Hollywood Sign to her death. This happens quite regularly – that put the idea in my head to write the book. I did some digging to find out what the chance is of making it – I’d say one in 10m. It’s a dream that creates an industry – at the expense of young people.”

You seem to attract celebrity through chance encounters – like meeting Ava Gardner. Does this always happen to you?

“Yes. I even bumped into Ozzy Osbourne in Oxford Street this week. In Central Park I sat next to Oprah Winfrey and we spoke for about half an hour. She is the most genuine, human, philanthropic person I have ever met who’s a star; she’s the real deal. Most celebrities want to abuse life as much as they can.”

You write in an entertaining, comic way. But you are angered by abuse and treachery….

“Yes, I provide substance. I love Borat but I'm not like him really. I am a journalist, I reveal. I do it tongue-in-cheek. His Highness sets them up to shoot them down. Hollywood is obsessed with royalty and His Highness was the perfect name. The people I met have no scruples. Slip a bag of cocaine to an agent for an audition – no problem. There’s lots of payola in Hollywood."

Was Hollywood worse than you imagined?

“A million times worse – the Lohans and the Hiltons – they are the norm. The average actor is a thousand times worse than you might think – they may have resorted to stripping, pimping, drugs and other illegal things to get on. The studio execs are some of the most unscrupulous people I have ever met – one always insisted on a blowjob from aspiring actresses. A lot of people should be in jail."

Homosexuality is a big theme in your book…

“I was pretty surprised – 9 out of 10 actors are gay. Without question Travolta was audited by the Scientologists to ‘remove’ his homosexuality. I have seen pictures of him kissing a man, a video of an ex-lover who was paid off by Travolta.”

Throughout the book there are prompts to go to YouTube to watch some of his featured interviews and encounters on video. Type in “High Highness Halperin” in the search box and have great fun. He tells me that he has 400 hours of film footage for his TV mockumentary – which was the original basis of the book – and this will be released as a full-length movie in 2008 by Paramount.

Also get to read his 2002 book Shut Up and Smile in which he stitches up the fashion world. And in the future he will write about the Broadway play he wrote called 27 Heaven – “I set out to write the worst play in history and it became a success,” he laughs.

Part-Borat, part-Toby Young, part-Nick Broomfield, Halperin is a satirical action man.

To order the book click here
For click here. Type in "His Highness Halperin" in the search box

Nick Hellen: 'A pompous twat'

The subject of Nick Hellen arises again - last I heard he was the deputy news editor of the Sunday Times: a fairly hopeless bully who I think may even trouble some of his seniors, although bullying staff is the coin of News International generally. A reader writes ....

No, Madame Arcati is absolutely right - the man is a pompous twat. He is not particularly clever, his problem is more that he thinks that he is very clever. One should never confuse speed of thought with truth. Surely, he has a speedy and agile mind, but that does not make him infallible. His rudeness is quite simply, just that, and it cannot be excused. Should I meet him in a dark alley one night only one of us will emerge from that darkness. And it will not be him.

And by the way - his journalism is shit - so much for his intellect - he has a tabloid imagination.


Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Two camp queens on a TV sofa

Two camp queens met on a TV sofa, one ironic, the other the object of ironic idolatry; one archly beautiful at 62, the other pushing 50 and mumsy; the one cold, the other warm.

Ms Cold doesn’t do garrulous: she’s succinct, faintly amused – she knows too much knowing talk is not cool. Ms Warm never stops talking, she’s not cool but she’s smart, and though she’s the interviewer, talks more than Ms Cold.

Ms Cold says she’s in a “happy rut” – turning on its head any notion that a boring life is the starting point for tabloidy confession. “You’ve great cheek bones,” says Ms Warm. “So have you,” says Ms Cold. “You’re single – are you looking for somebody?” asks Ms Warm. Ms Cold bares beautiful, flawless white teeth in a parrying rictus and sort of shrugs her shoulders – as if to say “Yeah, why not?” Ms Cold doesn’t do lonely.

Ms Cold mentions a movie she’s got a bit part in – Elegy – “with Sir Ben Kingsley” she adds with slight over-emphasis on the Sir – to distance herself from a meaningless foreign honours system. “I’d love to develop a character through a movie”, reveals Ms Cold, meaning she’d like to be a film star.

Ms Warm’s damp warmth condenses into a fast-moving mist as it hits the luminous iceberg – there is a blurring or dimming because the questions grow longer and unfocussed to muted response – but both maintain their respective temperatures admirably in a quiet collision of different weather systems. “You should write a book!” barks Ms Warm. Ms Cold picks up an imaginary pen and writes in thin air – and smiles. Charades looks good on TV.

Who would have thought that Lorraine Kelly would ever get talk to Debbie Harry?

Monday, September 17, 2007

PFD: Micheal and Caroline and Jeanette and Pat (& Peggy)

One of my regular readers - one who doesn't just write when I put up a Kevin Spacey piece! - reminds me that while I am happy to reveal that Michael Heseltine and Caroline Michel enjoyed time together as special friends, Michel's rival Pat Kavanagh (wife of Julian Barnes) had a relationship with one of her star authors Jeanette Winterson. This latter story is well known, at least it is in some circles, but the Heseltine/Michel friendship is known only to a tiny circle, and as for the mainstream media - I don't know what they know. It's thought that the Kavanagh/Winterson relationship inspired Winterson's novel Written on the Body, published in 1992 and dedicated "to Peggy Reynolds with love." Certainly there's never a dull moment at PFD.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Caroline Michel: Heseltine's pal grabs PFD

The defection of Caroline Michel from the William Morris Agency to rival agency PFD has shocked British publishing. An Independent on Sunday piece gives a good sense of scale [click here]. Michel's appointment is a clear sign that owners CSS Stellar want PFD turned into an international super agency and that a proposed management buyout by some of its agents is not an option. One consequence is that PFD may lose many of them as it feathers down with Michel.

As the Indy on Sunday says: "PFD represents some of the biggest names in the literary world including Simon Schama, Julian Barnes, Alan Bennett, John Mortimer and Joanna Trollope, as well as stars of stage, screen and comedy, including Kate Winslet, Dawn French and Ricky Gervais. It also holds the copyright to the literary estates of Hilaire Belloc, Nancy Mitford, JB Priestley, Evelyn Waugh and Rebecca West."

Caroline Michel, 48 - known to some as Lady Gush because of her flamboyant charm - is the wife of Matthew (now Lord) Evans, the former chairman of Faber. It is known that she was a close friend of the late, self-confessedly philandering MP Alan Clark. Subsequently, she enjoyed a friendship with the former deputy prime minister Michael Heseltine.

Lady Gush is lovely but incredibly expensive to maintain. She got a mega-package from William Morris but Americans demand premium delivery in return. She has an address book better than the Queen's: they expected the names she dropped - Sean Connery et al - to come on board and of course they didn`t.

She jumped ship from HarperCollins seconds before she was pushed and the same has happened again. She lost WM mega-money, HarperCollins likewise - but she manages to go and charm the striped suits in the city who don`t know the bottomlines.

Her appointment as the £400k chief executive of PFD was made over the heads not only of very long-standing and experienced agents like Michael Sisson and Caroline Dawnay - which was just plain rude but these types have no manners - but of Pat Kavanagh (Julian Barnes' wife). Now she's a bisexual lady with a house so anally retentively tidy that I'm surprised it has not drawn the interest of a psychiatrist: she has not enough to do but still has the energy to bear a lifetime grudge - she penned the line: "Vengeance is mine".

She went mad when she heard of Michel's appointment - and they really do dislike each other. Kavanagh refused to attend Michel's first meeting of the senior troops and is planning a coup - she wants to set up on her own agency with others from PFD. These refusenik agents had planned a management buyout and some of them are starting to see that Kavanagh is not of an age to found an agency. Also, they wouldn't have the PFD name behind them - and it IS a name - and second thoughts are dawning generally at the prospect of income and status loss. I suspect lots of secret meetings are taking place with and without Kavanagh.

More anon.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Elton John and David Furnish: A marriage of three +

Elton John: Me, Myself And I is broadcast on UK terrestrial ITV1 on Saturday 22 September - the press release promises that he "will be dropped right back into the middle of influential moments in his life, enabling him to interact with his younger self, relive his most memorable times, and fulfil some of his long held but never realised ambitions," thanks to computer graphics and other nerdy innovations.

The transcript I've seen doesn't break any significant new ground though one can never have enough of Sir Elt: he has co-opted a Hollywood-style glamour while tatty Tinseltown itself has disappeared up Lindsay Lohan's flaring nostrils. Any excuse will do to see him on the box. I only wish he might have elaborated on the dynamics of his civil union with David Furnish. Contrary to presentation, theirs is a continent open relationship and it's a measure of their bond that the relationship is strengthened as a result. So many cock-cocking marriages expire sexually in the early days and must adapt to a non-threatening dramatis personae of passing pick-up twinks and sauna cocksuckers. We have much to learn from such arrangements.

Friday, September 14, 2007

New Statesman party: Virgin takes over from Tesco

Good turn out of dark suits and floral frocks at the rather subdued New Statesman's “summer” do at the Banqueting House in Westminster last night.

Under Rubens’ splendid ceiling in the Main Hall – one of the last things Charles I would have gazed upon before losing his head on the scaffold just outside in 1649 - proprietor Geoffrey Robinson mounted the throne dais and announced that Gordon Brown was expected at 8.30-ish pm. If the PM did turn up – if he could be bothered to cross the road from Downing Street – I wouldn’t know because he was still not there 45 minutes after ETA when I left. Before then, Robinson introduced his editor John Kampfner for whom, he suggested, the throne was a better fit.

Kamfner’s speech wasn’t the gung-ho marathon of last year when he was the debutant editor on a mission to impose his youth on the venerable organ. I expected him to reel off stats aplenty but instead he just barked at the throng with that over-manly, Andrew Marr-y voice of his – I do wish some editors were swishy and effeminate (Statesman columnist Julian Clary would be perfect) – and I haven’t a clue what he said, to be honest as I was preoccupied by Suzanne Moore's shoes (see below).

Best person of the evening, aside from Ben Dowell, the magazine’s erstwhile much-missed arts diarist and Open’s new arts diarist, was his guest Stephenie Booth, fourth wife of the actor Tony Booth, the father of Cherie Blair (sometimes Booth QC), wife of the former PM Tony Blair. “I expected you to have big hair,” I said in a Tourettes-y moment, gazing at her chic crop. “I expected great architecture on top of your head, hair sweeps, etc.”

Another woman might have taken offence at this but she was most sporting. She said: “Maybe you were thinking of Pat Phoenix – she had big hair …” Yes, may be. Phoenix was the late Coronation Street actress who played Elsie Tanner, Tony’s second wife, a beautiful lacquered siren of sorts who smoked a lot.

Stephenie and Tony are based in West Yorkshire and I think she said she stays over at Cherie’s when she’s in London – I may have got that wrong; party conversation is really wonky radio stuff. "I love my husband, he makes me laugh, he's so funny," she said. She is involved with a newish charity called The Great Generation so I look up the website later. Its mission is to “To help tackle world poverty, by encouraging and sustaining charitable giving.” For more click here.

To my surprise she and Tony are on good terms with Tony and Cherie, despite the former Tony's opposition to the Iraq war. To her surprise I was able to tell her that "Broonite" Geoffrey Robinson and Gordon Brown are not the best buddies of political lore, owing to all sorts of treacheries by the former Chancellor. “Yes, but then Gordon doesn’t have friends,” someone in our group observed.

As to the party itself, Virgin Media paid for the generous supplies of champagne (Tesco last year), Christine Hamilton and her idiotic bowtied husband hustled about, Sky’s political editor Adam Boulton padded on the periphery in cheap rubber-looking shoes with a red stripe up the back sole, columnist Suzanne Moore wore a complicated pair of fuck-me shoes – all 6in spikes and lacy ankle binds – Austin Mitchell MP held court in front of the throne and all sorts of other nano-journo and political stars huddled together in butt-out circles of shouting and mis-hearing.

In a gathering of left-leaning winners who eagerly embrace capitalism, the royal throne seemed entirely at home.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

John Travolta - 'Scientologists treated his homosexuality'

Do try to get a copy of Ian Halperin’s new book Hollywood Undercover – he last made a great splash with Shut Up and Smile back in 2002, an expose of the fashion world that was Jackie Collins’ book of the year in the Mail. His trick is to reinvent himself with an outrageous name and persona, launch himself into a crazy targeted world, Borat-style, and then document the resultant absurdities. He is a satirical action man.

I’ve interviewed the author and will put that piece up soon. But its most explosive part is on homosexuality in Tinseltown. “Nine out of 10 actors in Hollywood are gay,” he asserts, having communed with the Queers of the Round Table, a salon of celebrity cock-cocking connoisseurs. Halperin tells me: “Without a shadow of doubt Travolta was gay. He went through the Scientologist’s auditing programme which purports to re-programme gays as straight. I have seen incontrovertible evidence of this. I was shown a video of one of his ex-male lovers talking about how he was paid off by Travolta and other evidence. And I’ve seen pictures of him kissing a male lover. However, Tom Cruise is another matter. Everyone said he was gay but I never saw the smoking gun. There’s no proof he’s gay.” More to follow, much more.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Pompeii Down!, Madonna Down! Open, Up!

1. Sad to hear that Roman Polanski has quit directing movie Pompeii. All sorts of reasons have been given for this ranging from failure to develop a tentpole script for a massive return on the $100m investment to the hot weather this year in south Italy - which is a bit like moaning about the chill in Siberia. Last I visited Pompeii in this incarnation I noticed that rival cartographers - at least three at the last count - had mapped the ruins differently so you didn't really know where you were. I thought of writing a comedy about it - mainly for the location pleasures - but then thought better of it.

2. Madonna dragged out of a Bloc Party gig in a headlock? Hard to believe.

3. Going to the Open magazine [click here] launch tonight incognito - a new arts/media online mag with a populist approach, and horoscopes. My kind of mag: culture and trash all in one. Then the New Statesman party on Thursday, incognito again, where I shall ask where's their brilliant arts diary.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Tony Bennett and his fight against homicidal homos

Further to the posting immediately below, I await with interest an update on the The Lubbock Trust website informing its readership that Michael Barrymore is not to be charged with anything in connection with the death of Stuart Lubbock. The somewhat cranky Tony Bennett, who is now solely responsible for the site, has in the past not been tardy in posting bulletins hostile to Barrymore so I can only assume he is on holiday or under sedation after the recent good news for the TV entertainer. The Trust no longer exists – it was wound-up on June 22 - but the site’s still there, brooding.

Girding my loins I read through it and learned that it’s under police investigation over alleged homophobia – I shall watch this with interest if the matter has not already resolved. For some time I had suspected that disapproval of cock-cocking had motored Bennett’s interest in the Lubbock case – as much as his concern for “justice” (ie the arrest and conviction of Barrymore or a drag queen called Jonathan Kenney). Now it is plain. “What active homosexuals do to each other, or with each other, never makes pleasant reading,” he says in his intro to a page that he has toned down following a complaint of homophobia. Of Lubbock’s anal injuries – which remain unexplained - Bennett attributes this to fisting and asserts that “it is practised by a surprisingly large proportion of active homosexuals.” I look forward to reading the research, if any, but I’m impressed that he knows of FistFest in the US.

I can just imagine him drizzling his keyboard with spittle as he tut-tuts his way through the pictures in the name of research. Some people call it work.

Now I see Bennett has donned Columbo’s old mac again and is investigating another death, that of Alec Barrack – “another case where homosexual activity undoubtedly led to his death,” he writes. His mission statement is clear: “Where deaths result directly from the activities of homosexuals - and especially where the precise events remain hidden due to incompetent, corrupt or inadequate police and inquest investigations - we will want to uncover and expose the true circumstances, as we have done with the Stuart Lubbock case and will do shortly on the Alec Barrack case and yet others.”

“And yet others …” Fisters better beware.

The Lubbock Trust website

Monday, September 10, 2007

Michael Barrymore - background on the loons

For some background on Michael Barrymore and why the police probably went through the most recent charade of arrest - questions - bail - more questions - released without charge click here. Hopefully, the police will now stop listening to right-wing conspiracy theorists and go do something useful for a change.

Robert Tewdwr Moss: When John McVicar wanted him

The 11th anniversary of the murder of Robert Tewdwr Moss prompts a most interesting memory from the deputy editor of the Oxford Mail, Toby Granville:

Dear Madame,

I was shocked to hear of Robert's passing, particularly the circumstances, when I stumbled upon a report about him online several years later.

I didn't know Robert well, I just met him a handful of times while he was freelancing at the Sunday People magazine where I started life as the office slave.

During one of the regular four hour lunch breaks when the rest of the team went to a wine bar or down the Stab to get steamed, I was ordered to stay and answer the phones which never rang. On one of these days Robert bustled into the office, absolutely terrified, with sweat dripping all the way through his bohemian suit.

Suddenly, and unusually, all the office phones started ringing.

'Don't answer them' he exclaimed, as he shuddered against the wall of the office, dabbing his forehead with a hanky.

As they continued to ring, he revealed that one of London's most dangerous men, legendary bank blggger John McVicar was 'hunting him down' for something he wrote about him in the broadsheets that he wasn't too pleased about.

I picked up each phone, then another, and each time I was greeted with the ferocious tone of Britain's formerly most wanted, demanding to know where 'that Tewdwr Moss' was.

'He knows I'm here!' screamed Robert, as he fled from the office, darting down the corridor, with his hands flapping in the air.

It is the only memory I have of him, but a cherished, and hilarious memory nonetheless.

All the best, Toby

Klaxons rubbish Guardian at Mercurys

Last week's Mercurys seemed to be civilisedly uneventful but for Amy Winehouse kindly returning to form and the prize going to the brilliant Klaxons - certainly the Guardian's report of September 5 would have us believe so. But I learn matters were less pacific. Teletext's Show Spy [click here] runs a short report of a red carpet row - and now someone sends me a fuller version which I am happy to reprint here:

"There was the usual red carpet scrum, with each Klaxon talking to a different reporter. The woman from The Guardian (who was an idiot) introduced herself to bassist Jamie Reynolds, who instantly yelled along the lines of “The Guardian? You’ve got a fucking nerve talking to us after that review of our album. That twat obviously never even listened to the album.” At which point, singer James Righton – who had been talking to a reporter on the Star – broke off from his interview to join in haranguing Guardian girl.

"After a good minute of this, James turned back to the Star woman and said: “Sorry about that. I don’t mind people slagging our band off, but I expected better from the Guardian. I read it and I was gutted that they let some prick review it when he hadn’t even taken the CD out of the sleeve.”

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Jasper Gerard - is anyone out there?

How odd that of the 11 opinion columns listed on today's Observer website, only Jasper Gerard's has no reader comment facility. Could it be that he elicits a response that is neither stimulatingly hostile nor reassuringly supportive - but simply damagingly incredulous? So, silence is the default option for the paper's resident cuckoo's egg.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Nesta Wyn Ellis: A letter from Paris ...

The former Prime Minister John Major's biographer Nesta Wyn Ellis (pictured here as singer Yzabel, also known in Paris as La Sirène) kindly writes, presumably from Paris ... for more on Nesta follow the labels below ... to hear Yzabel sing click here ...

Dear Madame,
I have just been enjoying your blog of August 8th and following up various leads and stories. I could become a real addict and will read further blogs with enthusiasm. Thank you also for plugging my website in such a flattering way. I am happy to tell you that we have recently updated the site and improved the photo display. We have also changed our domain so only the old site is coming up on the link supplied in your wonderful blog.

You and your readers can now access the improved website at the same address [Click here]. Fresh news will be posted shortly about the publication of two novels and a volume of verse (delayed) for which you were kind enough to supply a review.

If I send you the novels in their edited form perhaps you would also be kind enough to review them. I have a SPAM tsunami on my bankersdaughter e mail address and I am using this one for the moment.

Looking forward to more of your flattering comments about NWE.

Best wishes,


Dear Nesta,
Thank you for your kind remarks and I shall of course update the link to your website - as well as review your work. I would love to interview you at some point - your thoughts on David Cameron and other political leaders - past and present - are of especial interest.
Best wishes

Friday, September 07, 2007

Lorraine Kelly won't be writing Mein Kampf

I am delighted to learn that smart TV personality Lorraine Kelly has signed up with Headline to write her autobiography – out August 2008. I think we can safely say – as used to be said of Martin Amis’ life story - it won’t be titled My Struggle. But I wonder whether she will show the steelier side of her otherwise sweet persona. At Talk Radio she used to bitch quite regularly about her then GMTV colleague Eamonn Holmes and his ego – and was never happier when she got her own GMTV segment LK Today – in which she tends to interview the celeb guests who have just appeared on GMTV Today. Oh dear, I feel I’ve just shot Bambi.

Lynda La Plante - 'Bloody immigrants!'

I’ve only just noticed that Lynda La Plante is turning into Paul Dacre. She’s pushing her new novel Clean Cut [Click here] and relates her research method - snipping out newspaper stories that have appalled her. “I’m turning into Victor Meldrew,” says the copper hair-dyed virago, “because I just keep saying ‘I don’t believe it!’ I use actual newspaper headlines in my novels, I don’t make anything up. The stories too, I just change the names and a few details. There was the story of the 82-year-old woman with cancer and no hospital bed could be found for her. She’s paid her National Insurance all her life and no bed can be found! Yet immigrants who’ve paid nothing find hospital beds. I know I’m a demented ferret, I even shout at the TV at what I see …” I think the Mail should sign up this woman forthwith and give the more moderate Allison Pearson time to marry her live-in lover.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Pavarotti - when he was blown away, bless

Nice story on Popbitch this week - see sidebar to get the weekly issue - about Pavarotti. Back in 2003 he was caught in his Covent Garden theatre dressing room with two dancers - one giving him a blowjob while the other held his stomach out of the way.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Sharon Osbourne - Gervais on the Tarrant episode

I knew about Sharon Osbourne's deranged verbal assault on Chris Tarrant, but Marian Yule - who wrote in - supplies so much excellent colour (I didn't know Louis put Chris up to it) that it would be a waste not to post it here ...

Oddly enough, I was at Ricky Gervais's stand-up show yesterday, where he used his encore to tell a story about Sharon Osbourne's, er, unique approach to other people.

Apparently he was sitting with his girlfriend at the back at the recording of the live final [of The X Factor] for the last series, near Chris Tarrant and his daughter, and chef Aldo Zilli and his wife.

As the show was live, every commercial break was filled with a warm-up man taking questions from the audience to be put to the judges.

Chris Tarrant had apparently colluded with Louis Walsh to get to ask a question. He stood up, and started: "Sharon, you're married to an intelligent, articulate man..."

He got no further because Sharon Osbourne started screeching obscenities, including liberal use of the words 'fuck' and 'cunt' - all this just metres away from horrified families with children. She also threw in something along the lines of "No wonder your wife left you, Chris!"

Poor Chris tried to protest in vain that he wasn't about to take the piss out of Ozzy, while Louis mouthed apologies over Sharon's shoulder. Alas, there was no stopping the termagant's ire until the break ended and the show went back again.

At the next commercial break, Sharon stood up and said: "I'd like to apologise to all the mummies and kiddies out there - but you know what it's like when a loved one is attacked, you're like a tigress, aren't you?"

To Gervais's astonishment - this got a round of applause.

Clearly, as long as Sharon plays the 'I'm a mum under pressure, just like you!' card, she can get away with pretty much anything.

The Desmond Elliott Prize 2008 seeks 'sparkling new fiction'

As devoted fans of Arcati know, I am no great propagandist for mainstream publishing (run largely by marketing tarts and shop assistants) or of literary contests. But what would life be without exceptions to one’s rule? I do not hesitate to recommend to writers of fiction The Desmond Elliott Prize 2008 - a new biennial prize for a first novel written in English and published in the UK.

Worth £10,000 to the winner, the prize is named after the literary agent and publisher, Desmond Elliott. The judges seek a book with “buzz”, which has ”word-of-mouth” and lasting appeal; which is a page-turner that possesses intelligence. That book could be yours.

Let’s hope it’s not fucking Ian McEwan, the Dame Judi Dench of literary awards.

Books and entry forms should be submitted to the Prize Administrator to arrive no later than Friday 23 November 2007. For more about the Prize, entry forms and conditions and the extraordinary and late Desmond Elliott, visit its website - click here.

Incidentally, one of Elliott’s favourite Truman Capote anecdotes will be well known to aficionados but is worth repeating here. As Elliott told it: “Truman Capote was having drinks with Tennessee Williams. Now let me see if I can remember....It must have been Truman Capote because he appeared on television and they wouldn’t have recognised Tennessee Williams.... So anyway two tables from them were these two rednecks with their girlfriends who were staring at their table riveted. You can just see it.... Finally one of the girlfriends got up and came over to Capote’s table and leaned over and said, ‘Gee. Are you Truman Capote?’ And he said, ‘Yes. I am’. You see. And she said, ‘Would you sign my menu?’ So she handed him the menu and he signed his name. She went back to her table and showed the menu to her friends. One of the boyfriends carrying his can of beer got up and walked over to Capote and said, ‘Are you Truman Capote?’ And he said, ‘Yes. I am.’ He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his dick. ‘Will you sign this?’ And Truman said, ‘I can’t sign it. But I can initial it.’”

Picture: Desmond Elliott

Sharon Osbourne is flushed away

My prediction on Sunday that the latest X Factor will be Sharon Osbourne's swansong series may prove correct - I see that the woman who likes to share her shit with her nearest and dearest has leaked (so to speak) to The Sun her intention to quit the show. Apparently, she's tired of being pitted against Dannii Minogue by Simon Cowell and "being out of the loop". The reality is she was told to shove it after the producers read last weekend's News of the World - her brother David Arden's most serious allegation was that she tried to persuade her protege Ben Mills to quit the third series when it became obvious Simon's Leona Lewis would triumph. She's never won a series. As for Cowell, Minogue's appointment was a masterstroke to remove the demented and bullying Osbourne - a woman who should redirect her finances from cosmetic surgery to psychiatry.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Nicholas de Jongh - a camp old queen?

Evening Standard theatre critic Nicholas de Jongh didn't much care for Lone Star and Private Wars at the King's Head (till Sept 23) - starring Shane Richie as an ex-soldier who flashes passing women even though his "pecker" has been shot away - and Mick Jagger's luscious-lipped son James. Richie got his revenge on This Morning - "The critics love the play," he said, "except that camp old queen on the Standard. He can't stand me anyway." Normally I punish such homophobic utterances but on this occasion I shall compliment Richie on a certain degree of accuracy.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Helen Mirren - no lunch with the Queen

As I suspected the Evening Standard's claim in Londoner's Diary that Helen Mirren has lunched with the Queen is made up. Ken McReddie, who represents the actress, tells me this meeting has not taken place. I therefore doubt that much else in the piece is correct - see labels for original report.

Sharon Osbourne is browned off

Given the scatological nature of Sharon Osbourne’s revenge tactics as reported in the News of the World yesterday – such as smearing her unperfumed shit over Sir Elton John’s Rolls - it’s unfortunate that the publisher of her two memoirs is … Little, Brown.

Helen Mirren and the Queen: Did they?

The Evening Standard's The Londoner’s Diary gossip column reports confidently that HM has not seen The Queen – first shown on British TV last night. This contradicts my information – she viewed the movie some time ago and found it irritating in places but not entirely inaccurate – hence the warmth extended to her celluloid doppelgänger Helen Mirren through the media. The Queen will never endorse a movie beyond acknowledging Mirren's great success.

Asked by the Chicago Tribune on August 28 whether she thought the sovereign had watched Stephen Frears’ movie, Mirren said: “I don't know directly. I can't imagine that she didn't. I very, very much imagine that she did.” Anyone who knows the regal, onetime anti-monarchist Mirren would take that as a diplomatic “yes”. On set these days she’s more royal than Princess Michael of Kent.

Another surprise: I hadn’t realised Mirren and the Queen had had their lunch at Buckingham Palace, as reported in the Diary – this certainly went un(der)-reported. There’s no mention of it in the Nexis or Court Circular archives, but Arcati is fallible. I suppose it could have happened: perhaps someone will furnish some detail here. [They have not lunched - see above posting]

What did I think of the film? Comic in tone, content and spirit. No one in the establishment (except her sons) could give a flying fuck about Diana while millions of flower buyers bawled. It’s a very English, stiff-upper lip response to the real-life histrionics. The character most maligned in the film is Prince Charles - depicted as a snivelling, creepy egotist only concerned with his PR, post-Di. I liked the scene where HM scornfully switches off the TV the moment Camilla's name is mentioned. The film as a whole is not as affectionate as I had been led to believe by critics: it is a sweet satire that will sharpen as Diana's memory dissolves.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Polly Toynbee - up there with Papa Ratzi

The Guardianista Polly Toynbee is the new president of the British Humanist Association (BHA) "which does not accept supernatural views of reality." I have every confidence Polly will match religious zealotry with her practised irreligious zealotry, judging by a radio interview this morning. She resents, for example, the power of the religious in the Lords to shape legislation on euthanasia: she would have such matters entirely decided by supporters of the BHA who - funnily enough - favour euthanasia. The priests of the BHA are called officiants; its commandments are called bylaws. It repudiates "authoritarian principles" except those - in effect - that would deprive a religious person of any power or influence. The Pope, Papa Ratzi, would feel at home in such as organisation, but for the details.

British Humanism - click here and evangelise for a better Polly-cratic future.

Given the BHA's likeness to a religious organisation - officiants, bylaws etc - it's only right that they have a Christ-like secular icon. David Beckham is an obvious nomination.

Sharon Osbourne: How she shat on Elton John

David Arden trashes his monstrous celeb sister Sharon Osbourne in the News of the World today - the revelations are so destructive that I think we can view the current series of The X Factor as her swan song. Because the paper pinches Arcati's story on Paul Gascoigne without credit, I'm happy to lift promiscuously.

Of Elton John, Arden says: "'Elton is Sharon's oldest friend. But to this day, he still doesn't know about one truly disgusting act of spiteful revenge she took against him in the early 70s, long before she met Ozzy.

"'Sharon and Elton both fancied the same young man in Los Angeles. And when Elton was the one who finally got him into bed Sharon was furious. Accompanied by a friend of ours, who told me everything, she sneaked up to Elton's Beverly Hills mansion, defecated on his driveway then used it for her own dirty protest all over his Rolls-Royce. It was absolutely appalling. But that's just the way Sharon ALWAYS retaliates.

"'Many years later, after she had Ozzy arrested for trying to strangle her, I sent a note telling him to keep his chin up. A few days later, it was hand-delivered back to me in a Tiffany box. I opened the box to discover Sharon had sickeningly used my note as toilet paper.'

"She pulled a similar stunt after finding a cuddly toy monkey given to her dad by his mistress. 'Dad said after soiling the monkey's head, Sharon moved it outside the front door so it would be sitting there to welcome him home.' Added David: 'She's got a real problem. Sharon must know that.' In her autobiography she even admits once peeing in singer Lynsey de Paul's suitcase!"

Arden also claims that she attempted to sabotage The X Factor by trying to persuade her protege Ben Mills to quit the show to save her face as a likely third-time losing judge. Osbourne persists in telling anyone who'll listen that Simon Cowell is gay and regularly betrays the confidence of her "close friend" the Duchess of York by reporting that her marriage to Andrew broke up when she found him in bed with "his celebrity lover". That curious phrasing suggests to me that his lover was male - a variation on the male servant urban myth.

My congratulations to Colin Myler on the first decent story of his editorship.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Barry Manilow + Mandy Miami = Mandy

Veritas has interesting information about Barry Manilow's Mandy arising from my review of December 3, 2006 (see labels):

Trivia: 'Mandy'-the original song being Scott English's 'Brandy' was changed to Mandy when English met 70's/80's London singer and journalist called Mandy Miami. I know because I was there. Scott was telling a few people that Manilow was to record his song - and then suddenly hit upon the idea of changing the title to Mandy - and told Ms Miami it was in her honour. She's soon to release a never-heard song written for by the legendary Ian Dury, called "Fits and Starts"!

Welcome to Spam2Arcati

Do visit my new blog Spam2Arcati - dedicated to showcasing the spam sent to Madame Arcati (and everyone else). I hate to waste anything; even spam has its entertainment value: read these sad, pathetic, usually fraudulent letters and wonder how anyone could fall for them. I have kicked off with 20+ items but will build up as time allows.