Did The Hoff give me a cold?

It's been a funny old week.
I took an entire week off work. I wasn't flying off anywhere exotic or hot, just had high hopes of gallivanting around London checking out various tourist hot spots and the like.
It was my birthday as well last week. So I was hoping to go for high-tea at The Ritz on my bday afternoon and then out for dinner with my brother the following night.
I also arranged to go for a pampering session with the girls at a salon on Thursday, which would've including drinking champagne and no doubt chatting animatedly about boys.
However, my hopes were ambushed by a kick ass cold/ flu virus. Gutted.
So to cut a long and very boring story short, I spent the whole week, including my birthday, under a duvet sniffling on the sofa.
I didn't get out of my PJs for days and generally just shuffled around the flat feeling sorry for myself.

However before this moment of self deprivation and hermiting I interviewed The Hoff. David Hasslehoff, Knight Rider, The owner of Kitt, Mitch Buchannon of Baywatch fame.
I've interviewed Mr Hoff a few times before and each time he's got progressively more bonkers.
This time I  think it's safe to say he is officially madder than a box of glue-sniffing frogs.
Me and fellow Goss girl Sonja met The Hoff at the Charlotte Street hotel in Soho.
We walked into the library and came face-to-face with a more animated David than we'd even imagine in our freakiest dreams.
He spoke at us, literally AT us, for ten minute, waffling, frantically at 100 mph.

We have no idea what he was going on about. We tried to reign him in and ask a sensible, newsworthy question but he over looked our concerned glances and carrying off chatting inanely about, seriously, only God knows what.

Me and Sonja came out the interview, feeling drained and instantly knowing we had nothing to use in the paper the following day. What a waste of time for everyone involved.

However, we got this corker of a photo. And a hilarious ten minutes of audio we can listen back to on our dictaphones if we're ever feeling bored or in need of entertaining in the office.

Me, Hoff and Sonja

The last time I met The Hoff wasn't much better.
He was giving his bodyguards a run for their money at a party.
They were employed mainly to stop him going anywhere near the champagne and wine trays.
Say no more.

I forgot to say the list of 'Not Allowed To Mention Topics' for our Hoff interview was hilarious.
Including....
Being sacked from Britain's Got Talent
Anything to do with alcohol or binge drinking
Getting divorced
The custody battle
That 'burger video' that circulated a while back
Simon Cowell

The first time I met The Hoff

Forget wife swap....anyone fancying house training my fella????

If there was an award for the world's messiest boyfriend, mine would win, hands down. I'd bet my mortgage on it.
He should be in the Guinness Book Of World Records for his dedication for fucking up my house.
He could win medals, travel the world winning competitions, tournaments even.
If you think your boyfriend is messy... you need to spend a week with mine.

Jimmy, my fella of two years, has a wonderful ability to cover my cream bedroom wall with feet marks, not hand prints, feet prints... time and time again.
I'm not even going to mention the black hand prints all over my white bathroom walls.
Do other men insist on propping themselves up against the wall, with both hands, while taking a piss? WHY?

No matter how often I clean our lounge door, which so happens to be made of glass, it's always covered with finger prints... always.
I might as well just remove the handle. Seriously. Jim never uses it.
Why would he when he can push it open using the glass window with his greasy, KFC chicken ridden, fingers.
Obviously pushing the door open that way makes so much more sense?

Also I really should have clocked on by now about the cooking mess.
When he offers to cook dinner, I should politely decline saying, "I'll do it tonight darling". No drama.
If Jim cooks anything, it's guaranteed to be all over the walls, the utensil holder, the cook books, the kitchen ornaments, you name it. Not forgetting of course, ALL over the floor.
When he's cooked himself a simple Spag Bol, it looks like he's cooked Christmas dinner, for 10, blindfolded.
Even just making a cup of tea is a palaver.
There's tea slopped all over the bin lid, dripping down the kitchen cupboard and a trail across the floor from where the tea bags been slopped onto a spoon out of the cup en route to bin.
Moments later I shout 'bluuuurgh" as he's accidentally put two sugars in instead of none.
Hence the whole tea bag dripping, slopping, floor-splashing scenario starts again for tea making mark two, hopefully this time with no sugar.
He's been known to finish cup two by accidentally adding another sugar. No joke. Are men really this dense?

Another thing which you could look forward to if you lived with my boyfriend was his indescribable boy's logic.
The other day Jim was making sausage and mash... great, one of my favourite dinners.
I couldn't look as he turned our kitchen into a squat.
About 15 minutes later he declared, "the potatoes done, shall I put butter in them or just milk?"
I walked into the kitchen and saw the raw sausages still sitting on the side.
He hadn't even put the sausages under the grill.
I looked at him, frustrated asking "Why didn't you cook the sausages at the same time as the mash? The potato will be stone cold my the time the sausages are ready. How are you going to keep them warm?"
He replied, totally blasé, "I'm just gonna leave the mash on the side while I cook the sausages."
Why! Why!! Only a man could possibly think like this.

Seriously I have asked, in fact pleaded, with Jimmy at least 100 times, that is not an exaggeration, I wish for the sake of my own sanity it was, to open the shower curtain after having a shower.
We've had to throw away more shower curtains in the last two years than I can remember as they're covered in mould.
All he needs to do is leave the shower curtain open to air after having a shower. Simple?
Jim's response: "Babe, I just don't think, I physically can't remember to do it."

Maybe I should stick his Xbox in the bathroom and let that get covered in damp gunk? Bet he'd remember to move that.

Jim's amazing and constantly makes me laugh, but I'm in desperate need of Super Nanny to come and house train him.
Any one up for the challenge?

Sarah Harding in Rehab. Sad times

Sarah and me in Cannes for the
annual film festival

I love Sarah Harding. We've always supported her in our showbiz column, even back in the day, years ago when I had only just started at the Daily Star.
Hardcore Harding, as we nick-named her, always put us to shame with her canning ability often calling it a night hours past sunrise.
I've spent many a boozy night with Sarah in London, at Alton Towers, in Cannes and she could seriously drink most men under the table.
However, there's obviously a fine line between swigging out of a bottle of Jack Daniels while flicking the paparrazi your middle finger, to not realising your life's spiralling out of control.
So it was a sad day when we got the call to say she'd checked into an American rehab centre for alcohol addiction and depression.
Get well soon fellow party pal.
 

Sarah and me at the BAFTA awards earlier this year



Without poking my nose in too much, I'm really glad she's sorting everything out.
I was worried she was heading for a Lindsay Lohan/ Britney Spears style meltdown.
There's been a lot of gossip/ whispers about Sarah on the showbiz scene for months.
Ever since she seemed totally out of in at the BAFTA awards back in Feb.

Then she split up with her fiance Tom Crane amid speculation of someone being unfaithful. I won't say who.
A lot of people have been worrying about her, and not just her friends and family.

Good luck Harding, I hope to see you with a smile on your pretty mug again soon.



Fellow Goss girl Sonja, Sarah and me at V Festival in Essex

Thorpe Park after dark = HORROR.

I'm going to be 100% honest, whenever anyone talked about Thorpe Park in the past, I kinda zoned out.
In my mind it's always been a poor man's Alton Towers.
I have no idea where this pre-conceived idea came from, as I've even never been.
But, I just assumed Thorpe Park was a cheap, naff version of Drayton Manor (which to be fair is pretty lame) and most probably just for kids.

So when I got invited to the press night of the Halloween VIP Fright Night - which, in a nutshell, includes drinking a stack of free booze/ eating plates of free food before going on all the rides in the dark. I thought 'Yeah that sounds fun'.
However, what I didn't realise, was that we would be testing out Live Halloween Horror Mazes.

One of the lovely PR's, Lauren Libin from House PR, came over and said: "There's no need to be worried, it's just a mental asylum with a horror film twist. You'll be in a maze, which has live actors inside who will run around, screaming at you and trying to touch you."

Ok, nothing to worry about then?! By this time we were all a little drunk and therefore over analysing everything.
To make it worse there was an ambulance outside one of the mazes with a full ambulance crew. We asked why they were there.
One of the park staff replied: "It's a really scary ride, and very claustrophobic, people often faint."
Great.

The fact it was 9pm at night and the whole park was pitch black made it worse. And as it was a Halloween themed night there were staff everywhere, dressed in scary costumes.
Instead of the standard witches, ghouls, ghosts etc there were men in black cloaks wearing pig heads, girls dressed as demon scientists and generally characters you'd expect in a freak show. Random.

Anyway, to cut a long, scary story short two of the horror mazes were horrendous. I mean really horrendous. Those being Asylum and Experiment 10.
I closed by eyes, screamed, clinged on to my mates Sonja and Ellie for dear life and ran most of the way. At one point I was practically bear hugging This Morning presenter Matt Johnson as I was so petrified. He must have thought, 'who is this lunatic, squeezing my hand like a mentalist.."
To be fair though, even Matt said he'd "never" go in the mazes again.

Apart from those two hideous rides the rest were brilliant. Including a ten loop roller coster and SAW which was awesome.

I have since decided that Thorpe Park is in a league of it's own. Leaving the likes of Alton Towers and Drayton Mannor cowering in it's wake. Well played Thorpe Park, I honestly didn't think you had it in you.

After being hurled around on all the roller costers, there were no queues because the park was closed, so we crammed six into half an hour, we started to feel sick.
Nothing to with the multiple vodkas, honestly, ahem.

Anyway, me and Sonja couldn't face getting the coach back to London.,
So we somehow, no idea how we pulled this off, managed to blag a ride with two of the Thorpe Park staff.
If by any miracle they are reading this, thanks SO much for helping two, green faced, damsels in distress.
We hope you enjoyed the cupcakes (yep, we didn't offer them cash, just our goodie bags, which came with cake).

Ooh, I should probably mention that fame-seeking monster Jordan turned up to the bash.
Yep, we all let out a hard-to-disguise, disappointed sigh when she arrived, as she always manages to ruin proceedings.
However, she didn't throw her weight around, or annoy too many people as she was far too busy making a headline-grabbing statement.
She was showcasing her latest love victim Danny Cipriani. You know, the nice Rugby guy who was dating Kelly Brook.
God knows what he sees in Jordan, probably just after a good sh*g, But anyway, they were together and here's the full story, should you care. Also a picture of them both on the SAW ride.
 

http://www.dailystar.co.uk/posts/view/214477/Danny-Cipriani-is-Jordan-s-new-man

Oh, and we couldn't make this up if we tried, but glamour girl Imogen Thomas t(ex Big Brother star) thought she was dating Danny Cipriani. So quite rightly caused a stink about it on Twitter.
I can understand that reading you've been dumped in the paper is probably pretty shite.

http://www.dailystar.co.uk/playlist/view/214702/Oh-Danny-boy

I just also want to say the goodie bags were pretty radical. They had glow in the dark condoms in them! Awesome.

Chatting on 1Xtra

I love doing radio stuff.
In days gone by I used to co-present the breakfast show on Galaxy FM in Birmingham (now Capital FM).
I spent five years of my life getting up at silly o' clock (5am) and chatting on t'wireless for hours each day.
Those were the best days of my life. Despite the sleep deprivation.

So when I get asked to go and radio stuff, I'm always really keen to get back in the headphones.
I often do Saturday Night Live on LBC with Richard Arnold and also chat showbiz stuff on TalkSPORT.

Gemma and me in the studio

Today I went into 1Xtra to speak on Gemma Cairney's show, chatting about showbiz shizzle.

We chatted about how flipping brilliant Rihanna is after she came to the UK this week.
She decided to sack off her posh driver, limo or chauffeur and get a tube around London. And for us Londoners we know how rank it is on the tube at the best of times, so Rihanna must have been feeling particularly brave.
Following her gig at the O2 she then went to McDonalds. What a girl!! Fair play, I love it when celebs, especially ridiculously famous ones, act totally normal.
 Can't ever see the likes of Mariah or J.Lo doing that.

We also talked about The X Factor and the big evil twist where each judge (Gary, Louis, Kelly and Tulisa) is being forced to boot out one of their final four acts in the first live show. Drama.

Rock Of Ages: The Musical

I love a good musical.
Nothing like sitting around eating maltezers and ice-cream with a glass of wine as C -list celebrities prance around on a stage in front of you singing and dancing.
My fella doesn't really get why girls love the theatre so much, but I'm partial to getting tipsy with my mates dancing around in my chair.
A couple of months ago I went to see Ghost and despite thinking it was going to be a God awful pile of cheese rind, it was brilliant.
Also recently enjoyed Wicked, Flash Dance, Priscilla Queen of the Desert and very surprisingly Legally Blonde.

I didn't have high hopes for Rock Of Ages, I'm not into White Snake or other heavy rock bands, loved Metallica as an rebellious teen but that's where it ends.
I remember being 14 and dancing around on my mate's kitchen table, drunk out of my face on White Lightening, in stripy tights, para boots and an army coat moshing to Enter Sandman. Ahh the memories, I loved that album.

I'm not a big fan of Shayne Ward, the X Factor contestant from a few years ago. In fact did he win? I can't remember.
I've just googled, he did win. Shit, wonder what happened there then? Anyways, he's in the show as well as Justin Lee Colins.
You know the guy with the naff hair who was never as funny or likeable as Alan Carr.
You know, the guy who got caught fondling some random girl in the NOTW behind his wives back at a pub in Bristol.
Got it? Good.
Anyway. The show is good. Half of it is set in a strip club in LA, so it's full of semi naked girls waving their bits about and rock-star wannabe men trying to get their rocks off.
So all in all it's a bit of harmless sexual fun.
Also lots of power ballads Bon Jovi stylee and some laugh out loud moments.
Defo worth a visit if you have a spare £50 lying around.

We definitely enjoyed the after party... as you do.

me and my mate Sam unleashing our inner rock geeks

VW Camper van - best week ever.

Throughout my misguided youth there were a few things I dreamt of achieving in life:

1.) Buying a 70s VW campervan.
2. Finding and falling in love with a man who had cool hair (curly) and a fit beard.

3.) Owning a dog.

4.) Learning to surf.

(Oh, and moving to California to live by the sea. I’ve given up on that dream. I’ve travelled the West coast from San Francisco to San Diego and I’m happy with that).

So...

I’ve found a man with curly hair and a sexy beard. 

I’ve owned a golden cocker spaniel called Gwyneth.

I’ve had a few attempts surfing and albeit it not for long, I can stand up.

Luckily through my job at the Daily Star as showbiz editor, I can now tick off my biggest dream of living in a campervan – not just any, a 1972 VW.

It was literally a dream come true when I was offered the chance to do a travel feature driving around Devon in a V-Dub.

Me and my boyfriend Jimmy couldn’t believe our luck as we picked up our bright red camper called Ordell in Okehampton from O Connor’s Campers. (www.oconnorscampers.co.uk)

It looked perfect. Gleaming in the sunshine with shiny, chrome wheels, just waiting for us to jump aboard and start our adventure.

We were free from the London rat-race.

The only thing we needed to think about was where we wanted to hang out. And how long for.

 

Meeting Ordell for the first time

After picking up the van in Okehampton we decided to have an early morning horse ride across the moors, we were so close to Dartmoor - it seemed rude not too.

The moors were still covered with morning frost and dew, also an underlying air of eeriness.

As we cantered across the open land we were joined by a flock of swallows who flew alongside us.

They were beautiful and tame. As we went faster, they started to weave in and out our horses trying to keep up with us.

Apart from the swallows there was nothing to see for miles, just land and the occasional lone sheep.

Jimmy and Me riding across the moors

We then drove straight to Dartmoor to a campsite called St Leonard's Cove.

It was stunning, situated on a cliff at the top of a small cove, surrounded by panoramic views and turquoise sea.

We parked up Ordell, popped up the roof (our bedroom for the week), and lit our first camp fire.
Jimmy started making his camping speciality - prawn risotto.

We drank wine, smoked, played music and chatted animatedly about what we wanted to do in our amazing travelling companion.



Ordell on the first night - sleeping in the roof was really cosy and comfty

Chilling with our awning, fire pit and laterns on the first night

We decided to get up early and go cliff jumping.

It was a simple, we just popped the roof back down, chucked all our stuff inside and drove off down the country lanes to Torquay.

We cracked open a beer for the ride, ( can't lie we were a bit nervous).
Also we were on holiday time, which means it’s acceptable to drink beer whenever, even at 10am. Yes?

In our wetsuits just about to go cliff jumping

Coasteering and cliff jumping was amazing.

We scrambled across ragged cliffs and then threw ourselves off them. To be honest we were a bit cautious jumping off the first rocky ledge, but when a 10-year-old girl in our group nominated herself to go first we  realized we needed to man-up.

As the day progressed said girl, our ‘young inspiration’ didn’t do anymore jumps.

Can’t say I blame her.

We decided to get a taxi Dartmouth on the second evening. It was a cool, petite place.

Little bistros everywhere, pubs, wine bars, posh restaurants, everything you could possible want. We were surprised how much was going on in this sleepy coastal town.

We had dinner in RockFish, which essentially is a fish and chip/ seafood joint, with a twist.

The queue was flowing out the door, everyone wanted a reservation and as soon as we started eating it was obvious why.

Jimmy ate Oysters for the first time.

We ended up getting quite drunk in Dartmouth and dancing the night away in a wine bar as a man played a piano in the corner. Not what you'd expect from a camping holiday.

To hire a campervan from O'Connors Campers check out their webiste here or call 01937 659 599.

*our 4 berth 1972 campervan Ordell was given to us free of charge, in return for a travel feature in OK! Extra magazine.

VW campervan adventure - part two

On three day we decided to hang out along the coast south of St Leonards Cove.

We popped up the campervan’s back door and sat, staring out at the sea, eating a picnic and sunbathing.

 

Chilling out in Ordell having a picnic





A little beach near St Leonard Cove

For the third night we decided to drive across Devon down the picturesque coast line, trundling through the narrow, hedge-lined, country lanes to Hartland Point.

As the sun started to set we were blissfully blasting out some of our favorite tunes from the likes of The Pieces, Ed Sheeran and The Drums - perfect coasting, crusing music.



The sun setting on the way to Stoke Barton

Jimmy getting his sunshine cruise on

We were told Stoke Barton Farm was off the beaten track, very rustic and the perfect place to go to escape everything.

Despite knowing this we were quite shocked when we arrived at the farm. There were 500 acres of land.

Green rolling fields for as far as we could see.

There were no lamp posts or lights, so we knew it was going to be pitch black at night.

Good job we packed a torch. We parked up and lit a roaring fire.

We sat out drinking and chatting with nothing but the florescent night sky to entertain us, I’ve never seen so many twinkling stars.

It was like a sitting under a canopy of a hand-painted night sky, thousands sparkling in every direction.

We woke up really early, refreshed and eager to check out the area,

So set off for a long coastal walk down to the Quarry.



coastal walk along the rough and rugged Quarry

To hire a campervan from O'Connors Campers check out their webiste here or call 01937 659 599.

*our 4 berth 1972 campervan Ordell was given to us free of charge, in return for a travel feature in OK! Extra magazine.

VW campervan - part three

As the days went on we fell more and more in love with our campervan Ordell.
We slept in her canvas pop-up roof every night and by some stroke of luck woke up feeling more refreshed and happy than you could imagine.

The last place on our list was Croyde Bay and Woolacombe in north Devon.

Once again we packed up camp and set off for Surfers Paradise in Croyde Bay  - to hire some wetsuits and surf boards. The sun was blazing, the beach was packed.

And without even realising what we were doing, we walked into a surf shop and brought two brand new wetsuits and surf boards. We couldn’t resist.



Jimmy making a pizza base



We made our way over to Woolacombe Bay campsite and drove right to the top of the cliff. We found a nice area, under a opening of trees.

Jimmy started making pizza dough, we’d never baked pizza on a camp fire before, but were well up for giving it a go. And I cracked open a G’nT.

You might have noticed Jim does most of the cooking, he used to be a chef.
So I just put my feet up and enjoyed letting a man doing the dirty work.
Bad form, I know.



The pizza half cooked on the fire, so far so good.



camping under the trees and the stars

We spent our last few afternoons hanging out in the sea, trying to catch as many waves as possible.

We also tested a wide variety of pasties, cottage cream ice ceams and fish 'n chips.
It was brilliant.
So much fun and literally hundreds of people doing exactly the same. Suring, eating, drinking, sleeping.

We headed to Croyde Bay for a beer and dinner at the infamous surfers pub The Thatch

Who knew you could have so much fun in Devon? And get a good tan at the same time?

I set up Pete Doherty on the iPod and we came to terms with the fact we had to drive back to Okehampton and hand back the VW campervan.

We were well and truly gutted.

We spent most of the two hour journey back discussing ways we could save up to buy our own VW.

I even agreed to sell my beloved car (it was a present from my Dad) or failing that get a second job in a bar.

Eventually we arrived, hearts in our hands and begrudgingly handed over the key to the O'Connor Campers staff. 

Despite the feeling of sadness, we knew we’d just had the most entertaining, chilled out and happy seven days.



Dropping Ordell back at O'Connor's Campers with all the other vans



Once last picture of Jimmy with our red beaut

We’ve been back in London a few weeks now and we still can’t stop thinking and reminiscing about our amazing trip.

We'll be renting an other VW campervan soon, that's a promise.

To hire a campervan from O'Connors Campers check out their webiste here or call 01937 659 599.

*our 4 berth 1972 campervan Ordell was given to us free of charge, in return for a travel feature in OK! Extra magazine.

Celebrity bash in The Cube Birmingham

Michelle Keegan - aka the hot one of Corrie

I'm originally from Solihull, West Midlands but have been living in London for four years (this time round. And for two years the first time round, back in 2000).
So, naturally, whenever there's an excuse/ a party/ showbiz event/ media bash in Birmingham, which I can cover for work, I'm there like a reoccurring bad smell. All over it.
So when I was invited to the opening of a new hair salon in The Cube in Birmingham's Mailbox, I couldn't wait to get on the train... Brummie-bound.

The event was to celebrate Adee Phelan opening a salon in The Cube. Adee's most famous for cutting global sex god David Beckham's hair. He has also been on Channel 4's The Salon and has a array of celebrity clients.
 

The turn out at his salon launch was impressive.
The entire Coronation Street cast (no exaggeration), Peter Stringfellow (you know, the lap dancing lothario), Imogen Thomas (Giggs' ex bed buddy) Charlotte Jackson (Sky Sports hottie), Alison Hammond (big brother lovey), Joey Essex (off The Only Way Is Essex), Lucien (hot lad who might've shagged Katona, depending on how much cash OK! are giving him to say he did?), Dean Gafney (insert your own joke), Suzanne Shaw (Darren Day shagger), Simon from Blue (guaranteed to turn up to the opening of anything) and a host of brummie footballers (no-one as exciting as Lee Hendrie or Gareth Barry circa 2003).

WAG extraordinaire Imogen Thomas

Imogen told me she is currently filming her first film. It's set in America, but she's shooting her parts in the UK.
She said she's still absolutely gutted about the Ryan Giggs malarkey and has no interest is seeing any other fellas.
She revealed she "speaks to her mum about four times everyday" telling me: "I'm still fragile and grieving, it was a huge shock." I later spotted her dirty dancing at the after-party in Bar Room Bar with Dean Gaffney. No joke. He looked like a horny teenager with his first copy of Viz.

It was a mighty fine evening of champagne and industry chitter-chatter amongst local TV, radio and PR people.
However, we were all starving, there was a severe lackage of food. Not even a measly little finger sarnie.
 Jeez Birmingham, if you wanna throw a proper celeb party, you need food.
This isn't Milan fashion week, we liked to eat whilst getting drunk.
Anyway, despite the nonexistence canapes, the party was good.


Joey Essex in his homemade shorts

Joey Essex is a law unto himself. Seriously.
He honestly thinks his home made/ hand made jean shorts are the biz.
He told me he'd like to a get a Mohawk as his Dad had one in the 70s and he thinks they're cool.
Joey also can't wait to get rid of his naff Smart Car. But the producers of TOWIE think it's hilarious that he has to drive around in such a crap-mobile.
He reckons his next car will be a two seater Land Rover, "they look a bit like a Smart car" he told me.
A Landrover with two seats??? Only on planet Essex.

Lucien from Celeb Big Bro

GQ awards

It's fair to say there are a few perks of my job.
Despite reporting on showbiz event for years I still get excited about drinking free champagne, eating delicious canopies/ cupcakes/ petit fours and going home with a smile on my face and a goodie bag in my hand.
You'd have thought by now this would've run thin but I have to admit I still love showbiz schmoozing, once in a while.
Not to mention meeting fit celebrity men, who you can drool over unashamedly, not looking like a mentalist stalker as it's my 'job' to chat to them.

There are a few nights every year in the annual showbiz calendar that genuinely get me excited.
The GQ awards is definitely one of them.
Picture the scene. A sea of tanned, muscly A list men in crisp, tailored suits. A strong stench of  testosterone clouding up the air of otherwise overwhelming Gucci/ Channel and D&G aftershave.
Tray after tray of champagne flutes, Gin 'n Tonic fishbowls and an array of rum cocktails being passed around by men in sharp waiter suits.
Meanwhile semi-clad ladies handing out mouth-watering plates of Godiva chocolates.
Jason Statham smoking a cigar in one corner, James Corden throwing some shapes in another, Bradley Cooper being manhandled at the bar, Jamie Redknapp looking sublime entering the gents and Abbey Clancey being sized up by every Y chromosome in the place.
Suddenly out of no-where, across the room I look up and spy One Direction. What the heck were they doing here? Surely it's past their bed time? Are they even allowed to drink yet?
And instantly the glamour of 2011 GQ Man Of The Year Awards begins to fade.

Last year I met Noel Gallagher for the first time. What a dude.
I've been a big fan since my early Oasis days circa 1995, when I used to drive around in my mate's cars getting inebriated listening to What's The Story Morning Glory.
Noel was every inch the ultimate celebrity I'd expected. Cocky but calm, handsome yet dishevelled, sharp-tongued but smart and not afraid to say it as it is. He told me he thought JLS were a boring load of tosh, who need to man up and get some rock 'n roll notches. Never a truer word spoken.
Also Mr Jason 'ardman, plastic gangster Statham shouted at me and my sidekick Sonja last year as we tried to get his attention to ask him a question.
He snarled and shouted, literally shouted at the top of his voice (no exaggeration): "INNNNNN AAAAAAA MMMMMINUTE!!!" at us.
To which, we promptly turned on our heels and did one.
No need to act like a twat Statham a simple, "I'm in the middle of a conversation" would have sufficed.
What a tit.
Anyway, back to this year. Here's a few photos we had....
To recap in brief Micheal McIntyre had a ten minute shouting match with his wife after she witnessed him flirting with The Saturdays. We watched the whole drunken debacle unfold in front of our eyes.
Micheal flirting, chatting and generally drooling over Frankie Sandford and Mollie King while his ever patient missus Kitty stood, alone, embarrassed in the wing.
Que, full on rant from Kitty and Micheal looking like a naughty toddler who'd peed his pants.

Meanwhile a yonder, Abbey Clancey looked impossibly perfect /skinny just four months after giving birth.

Me, James Cordon and Sonja



Abbey flashing off her post baby bod



Micheal McIntrye pre-bollocking off his wife and Jimmy Carr

  

The Saturday's Mollie and Frankie blissfully unaware of the storm in the teacup

Oh and it's my boyfriend birthday every year on the GQ awards, so I trundled off home at 1am with a swelling goodie bag stuffed with men's gifts...Dunhill aftershave, Clarins eye cream, moisterizer, shavers, books, DVDs, choclates, a bottle of Gin. Xbox game etc...
Naturally, I wrapped them all up and gave them to him as birthday presents the next day.
He was none the wiser.

V festival - Essex massive.

It's a known fact that journalists, PRs, liggers, people who are nearly C-list and other media types get very excited about the VIP area at V Festival in Chelmsford.


Me and my fella Jimmy hanging out in the Lounge

To be fair the Louder Lounge backstage area is the nuts.
It comes with three bars - which are totally free, a whole tent designated to free food, complimentary spray tans and hair styling, a MAC makeup tent and a place to get a manicure (again both free).
What more could anyone want?
The problem is, all this wonderful freeness makes it very hard to leave.
And surely the whole point of going to a festival is to hear bands and dance around in a muddy field?
No? Well, definitely not in Essex.
Seriously. Everyone just stayed in the VIP area rinsing the free bar, quaffing cocktails, cupcakes and free food.
Which is fine, but it still amazes me...even on my fourth year covering it for work.


What the Louder Lounge looks like.
No mud, glow sticks or piss filled paper cups anywhere to be seen





Free cupcakes - yeah!!

Anyway, before I got stuck into boozing, we did some work for the column. We interviewed Matt Smith a.k.a Dr Who and his gorgeous model girlfriend Daisy Lowe - you know the one who got her kit off in Playboy recently?
Yep, we all now know her choice of bikini wax. (Full Brazilian for anyone wondering).
Talking about the full-frontal, naked snaps Daisy told me her Nan was "very proud" of her getting her "nunny" out. Her choice of word, not mine. I prefer the more eloquent 'lady garden'.

Meanwhile we spotted her fella Matt puking all over himself. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating.
On the second morning of V festival we saw a very hungover-looking Matt legging it to the bathroom (by bathroom, I mean sweaty portaloo).
He tripped, fell on his knees and was sick on the grass before rolling behind a tent to hide.
Moments later Matt and Daisy were having a romantic morning snog. Lovely stuff.
Obviously, being journalists, both the above moments were well documented, by us, in a national tabloid newspaper.


Dr Who's Matt Smith






Matt's girlfriend. Daisy Lowe

 We interviewed a flurry of celebs for the GOSS column including Rupert Grint, Keith Lemon, Meg Matthews, Spanish hottie Elen Rivas (Frank Lampard's ex) and former Sugababe Keisha Buchanan. 

The MAC make-up tent - unfortunately I couldn't be bothered to go in.
The queue was crazy long.



I really wanted to sleep in this little funky
 hippy hangout, who needs a tent hey?

We finally broke free of the showbiz VIP area to go and see the mighty Arctic Monkeys headline. Which was pretty flipping awesome.


Having a wee dancing to the Arctics with my fella...



It's been a while but...I still love you, long time.

Shit, I realised today I haven't written on my blog for six weeks.
That's poor. I know.
Have I been too busy living life?
Have my creative juices stopped flowing?
Am I morphing into an over-weight, under-active, procrastinating fool?
The answer to all the above is... yes.

So to quickly recap the last six weeks have included V Festival, a life-inspiring VW camper van trip in Devon, the GQ awards, a couple of weddings and a dreaded, god damn, week-long cold.

First I will start with V festival and GQ awards.
I'll give the illness story a wide berth as being ill is piss boring. People banging on about having a cold, "oooh, I'm so ill, I've never felt this achey, I've got such a sore throat" are so boring.
Just stay at home and suffer in silence.

So V festival it is...

The Beckhams are minted

I wrote a story earlier for tomorrow's showbiz column about the Beckhams blowing nearly half a million pounds on a nanny for their new baby daughter Harper Seven.
Without really thinking about what I was saying, I turned to one of the sub-editors and flippantly said; "Is it really that much of a big deal? £500,000 isn't that much to spend per year on a nanny. Not if you're Victoria Beckham."
He looked at me dumbfounded.
Seriously. What world do I live in?
I think I've got far too bogged down with showbiz nonsense. I'm genuinely not sure I really have any grip of reality as to how much everything costs.
The average man in the UK earns £19,000, so it's probable that Posh and Becks spunking half a million on a nanny for just one of their four kids is utterly ridiculous.

They're worth (combined) £146million and earn something silly like £200,000 a day. So in theory it's spare change to them.
My sub-editor then started questioning how much I thought stuff costs.
It turns out I have no idea how much anything costs. A pint of milk (I guessed £1.50), a loaf of bread (again £1.50), a pint of larger (£4, £4.50) but more worryingly I thought it was £3.50 to go to the cinema, apparently it's £10 in some places! Shows how long it's been since I've paid.

I'm going to start being more financially aware, as to be honest, I never think about it and just hand over my credit card. #fail

For anyone that cares here's the full Beckham article from the Daily Star...

http://www.dailystar.co.uk/goss/view/204798/David-and-Victoria-Beckham-s-400k-nanny/

Lady Gaga V Amy Winehouse

BIG news today that pop phenomenon and bonkers star Lady Gaga is in top-secret talks to play Amy Winehouse in a blockbuster film about the tragic singer's death.
How does everyone feel about that?
A Hollywood insider told me: "Gaga worshipped Amy and would love to transform herself into her idol on the big screen.
"She'd be spot-on performing Amy's songs and has got the right look and bolshy attitude."

After hearing this I did some digging and found out Lady G's been itching to get into movies. Her agent's been bombarded with film scripts, but Gaga didn't think any were suitable to launch her career as an actress.
It's no secret that Hollywood movie bigwigs are keen to rush out a movie based on Amy's life and now they think Gaga's the perfect lead star.

Gaga's dipped in and out of acting appearing in The Sopranos, under her real name Stefani Germonatta.
Her mates reckon she "always dreamt of being an actress before she got into music."

Anyway, besides all that can Gaga pull of wayward London bruiser La Wino? That is the question.
Sounds like she can.
For starters she can sing, has an eclectic taste in fashion, has a appetite for partying, like to cause drama and media speculation, isn't afraid to say what's on her mind and apparently can do a pretty dapper London accent.
She's a big fan of Guy Ritchie movies, such as Snatch and RocknRolla and can speak perfect Cockney.

Bingo.
Move aside Charlize Theron, Sienna Miller and Kiera Knightley (all tipped for the part), we've found our girl.

But who will play ex hubby Blake?

Celebrity Big Brother

SO there's only a few weeks until Celebrity Big Brother returns to TV.
Friday 19th August to be exact.
So far names being thrown around the big reality hat are The Only Way Is Essex's Amy Child, Kerry Katona and her mum, Pamela Anderson, Jedwood, Big Fat Gypsy Weddings star Paddy Doherty and Imogen Thomas.
Exciting stuff.
Well, exciting if you're into hanging around your own living room, every night, watching a bunch of fame- hungry wannabes arguing, crying, snogging and slowly becoming more mental hour by hour.
It's no X Factor is it?

Seeing as it's now moved to Channel 5 - which is under the same umbrella as the Daily Star - I'll be able to keep you up to date with the gossip, readily.

Joy.

Tube etiquette - a rant. Sorry.

After my manic train journey a few weeks ago with the scary, hairy arm-pitted lady who couldn't stop heckling the train conductor, (before announcing she didn't have a bomb), I can't stop thinking about tube etiquette. Most sane people (bomb lady excluded) know it's an unwritten rule that you don't speak to strangers on the tube.
It just makes you, them and everyone else in the carriage awkward.
I don't know why, but it does. Every now and then a random girl will lean across and say, "I really like your shoes, where did you get them from?" Que instant awkwardness. 

If you got them from New Look you end up laughing nervously, while looking at her Mulberry handbag thinking "I wish, more than anything, I was getting off at the next stop."
If they're designer (I've stupidly wasted my money on a few) you feel like a posh twat.
Either way, it's just awkward.
Even if your shoes are from somewhere perfectly normal like Office or Topshop you then have a three minute chat about the shoes, what other colours they come in, how much they were, which celebs have worn them etc... 
And then have an awkward three stops further wondering if you should just make idle chit-chat seeing as you've bonded over the shoes and are sitting next to each other.
Or is it OK to just shut up and go back to reading the paper?
The tube is weird. 
Awkward tube moments include... - when homeless people come through the connecting carriage door and start with the whole "Hello Ladies and Gentleman, sorry to bother you..."spiel.
Instant nervous feeling and eyes locked on the floor.  
You don't want to initiate a conversation, but I feel rude if I don't give any money or even acknowledge their presence.
I've given beggars cash before on the tube and been reprimanded by a suited 'n booted elderly man who snarled: "You're not helping the situation by giving them money, it's illegal to beg on here, you're just encouraging them." Great. You feel awkward either way.
A couple of months ago me and my boyfriend witnessed an angry OAP (who looked scarily like John McCririck) threatening to punch a homeless man who was strumming a guitar and asking for money on the tube. Not cool.
- Buskers

 Seriously I really think there should be auditions for buskers.
Or are there? Do they have to pass a buskers test to prove they're not tone deaf and crap? 
Monument tube station has the worst buskers I've ever heard. 
The old, grey haired dude with the electric guitar fills me with head-to-toe anger everyday on the way to work. He's always there, no matter what time. I'm angry even thinking about the drivel that comes out of his out-of-tune guitar. And he plays so loud. 
Why? Just turn down the volume you cretinous moron.
I must have walked past him and physically recoiled at least 50 times...it pains me when I hear his menacing tones as I come up the escalator.
Some days I feel like begging the ticket barrier staff to make it stop.
Also there's a guy with an accordion at Monument... I'm not even going to get started on him and his scary, bulging eyes.
On the flip side I love it when you're at Leicester Square tube late on a Saturday night, the buskers there are always brilliant. You end up dancing and singing along.

In fact maybe there's prime time slots for buskers, like comedians?
That would explain why the grey, electric guitar dude at Monument is on every day at 10.30am.
He'd cause a riot during morning rush hour.
- Meeting someone you know
Why is meeting people, completely unexpectedly, on the tube so awkward? 
Is it because you're in 'tube zone'...not talking to anyone, or wanting to engage in conversation, actively eyeing up the next available seat.
Meeting someone you haven't seen for years is the worst.
If you were in the pub, this would be awesome. You'd hug, swap numbers and be genuinely chuffed to randomly bump into each other.
However, on the tube you want to run the other way.
It's awkward as everyone else is eves dropping. Wondering how you know each other, did you use to date? 
People can sense your awkwardness. I'm sure of it.

Other problematic tube issues are... 
- People eating - it's too smelly, too warm, too unhygienic
- Fit people - it's impossible to not stare at ridiculously hot men, who are sat two feet away.
- Is she pregnant or not? - I hate that moment, you flounder around wondering if the round-bellied person in front of you is actually preggers or just fat. That dread of offering your chair to a none-pregnant belly bloater.
- People sneezing - when people sneeze in the office, you politely offer a "bless you" and carry on with your work. When people sneeze on the tube you instantly think of the gems, turn the other way and huff internally at the "sick" person next to you.
When you move to London there should be some kind of underground handbook to get you through these awkward moments.Also I've been wondering... will there ever be a First Class section on the tube?
Would the city bankers pay extra to travel in peace?
I think so.