Who’s that peering at us, doe-eyed, from the gossip columns? Why if it ain’t goofy Gail Porter! The girl – at 40 let’s be charitable and say she’s a girl – simply can’t help it.
Currently she’s saving the children, putting in a few hours in a charity shop in London. She has long mastered the fine art of selling herself.
Gail does a self-portrait – more apt, a self-analysis – saying she’s “old and knackered, bald and mental”. Portraiture that even Rolf Harris or, indeed, Picasso couldn’t better.
Information that shouldn’t be leaked to you. It’s the tightening of the belt thing. Times are so tough I contemplate cancelling my sub to the Bladder and Bowel Foundation. Yes, if it’s not one thing it’s another. Just when I’ve banished this toenail fungus, too.
Wonder whether Dame Edna is finding life such a bitch. The buzz is that she’s so financially embarrassed that she has forsaken membership of Friends of the Prostate.
I’m reading somewhere that former Bishop of Edinburgh Richard Holloway has been saying there may be no God and that he’s been murmuring about the virgin birth, the resurrection, the babe itself. Richard, we’ll have to sit down and talk about all this some day.
Afterwords . .
. . . 78 and still a curvy lady, Joan Collins, and upbeat with it: “My attitude is, you just get on with it. Do what you have to do. I’m not perfect but if you haven’t got some self-esteem by my age you must have had your eyes shut.”