Awoke to the sensational news that I have been shortlisted in Heat magazine’s annual ‘Weird Crush’ competition. Bizarrely, I am very rarely considered when it comes to awards of an aesthetic category. Though Woman’s Own readers, to their credit, did once vote me ‘Hottest Hunk of 2009’.
The word ‘ weird’, as defined in the dictionary, is something ‘eerie, unnatural, otherworldly, mysterious, abnormal, strange’.
But I was encouraged by Heat’s statement that their list was focused on the ‘unconventionally attractive, because raw animal magnetism comes in all shapes and sizes’.
Some of my competitors are quite cool, notably Ed Sheeran and Jay-Z.
Others are clearly several rungs down the cool ladder, like David Cameron, Hugh Bonneville and Harry Hill. And two names on the list are frankly a grotesque insult to the rest of us – Keith Chegwin and Lord Sugar.
This afternoon, another of my socalled rivals, TV presenter Richard Osman – nerdy host of the appropriately named show Pointless – reared his indisputably plainer head on Twitter, urging his followers to vote for him and ‘prove I’m hotter than Piers Morgan’. To my horror, Gary Lineker’s wife Danielle promptly responded by saying: ‘Tough choice.’
Tough choice? TOUGH bloody choice? Between me and a bloke who looks like Jaws from the Bond movies? Hours later, she posted a picture to me of her snuggling up to Osman, with the caption: ‘Sorry.’
‘Do you have a weakness for ugly men?’ I asked. ‘Cheggers would be a step up for you at the moment.’
At which point, my regular Twitter foe Lineker pounced with all the speed and skill he showed as an England striker. ‘I didn’t realise she was in your company,’ he scoffed. ‘You never do,’ I replied. Game. Over. pop stars get their kit off for posh magazines like Vogue or Elle, it’s called ‘art’. When Sandra from Borehamwood does it in a tabloid, furious feminists brand it ‘offensive objectification of a woman’s body’.
Right on cue, Jennifer Lawrence appeared in Vanity Fair today, completely naked with a giant boa constrictor sprawled all over her flesh.
This is the same Ms Lawrence who responded to recent hacked pictures of her in various states of undress by stating indignantly: ‘Anybody who looks at those pictures, you’re perpetuating a sexual offence.’
But looking at a gigantic snake wriggling around her same bare torso is absolutely fine, apparently. What I find so laughable is the idea that there’s any difference between Jennifer Lawrence – who, for the record, I love on and off screen – doing it, and Page Three models. They’re all making a buck out of nudity. She’s just making more.
‘I asked Will Smith if he had considered hair surgery like Shane Warne,’
said Freddie Flintoff. ‘It ended rather awkwardly’
Dinner at Madeo restaurant in Beverly Hills, favoured old haunt of the Rat Pack, with the modern British equivalent: James Corden, Freddie Flintoff and One Direction movie producer Ben Winston.
Freddie is in LA for just 48 hours, sent by an Australian TV company to interview Will Smith and Margot Robbie about their new movie, Focus. ‘It was one of the most absurd experiences of my life,’ he admitted.
‘They had no idea who I was, could barely understand a word I was saying, with my accent, and I had pre-