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.

Kerry Katona strikes again

Only fame leach Kerry Katona could turn something as heartbreaking as Amy Winehouse dying into a possible moment to grab attention.
Kerry's more than happy to constantly let the world know she's had it tough, she battled against all odds and is still here to tell her sorry tale.

However, she's taken the proverbial biscuit this time.
No not a disco biscuit, although she's probably necked that with a bag of Columbian marching powder too.


I bumped into her manager Max Clifford at a party this week who told me: "As soon as Amy died Kerry phoned me up sobbing 'that could have been me'. She was distraught. She knows how lucky she is to turn her life around."

He's a shred business man Max, from the Simon Cowell school of training. Never one to miss a showbiz opportunity.
I'm surprised they didn't dye Kerry's hair black, lob it into a beehive and make get her to do a tribute act.
If she turns up in a magazine shoot  next week styled/ dressed as Amy talking about their similarities and struggles it's going to be a very bleak day in showbiz.

I won't know wether to laugh, cringe or cry.

Doggie Lovin'

I honestly think there's a chance I'll end up one of those batty, old ladies surrounded by dogs and cats.
Hopefully not smelling of piss and searching for stuff in other people's bins.
But surrounded by an unnecessary, probably slightly unhygienic, number of animals.


Molly looking gorgeous


My boyfriend Jimmy didn't really believe me when I told him I'd met a lady over Facebook and was going to look after her dog - Molly. A black cocker spaniel that's so cool, she makes Kate Moss look insignificant.

Anyway to cut a long story short, I met a lovely lady called Anne and fell in love with her dog.
We spent a few weeks chatting over FB, we met for lunch (with the dog of course) to a bar in Clapham and then a few weeks later I spent a whole Saturday with her beloved pooch.

Yep us dog lovers really are that weird.

I was telling this story to my best mate Sam and she just looked at me totally confused.
She didn't actually say anything or make any sarcastic comments, she just went quiet and looked confused.

In retrospect, I agree it is actually quite strange to meet someone over the internet and then travel from north to south London (18 stops on the Northern line) to babysit their dog.
But that's just the way of the fur lovers.
I didn't think it was very weird, but people like Sam and my mum can't really comprehend it.

Anyway we took Molly for a three hour walk across Clapham Common and then for a bit of a knees up in a boozer in Clapham Old Town. OK, that was a bit of a lie, dinner and a few pints.



Me and Molly


 

Jimmy and Molly



Another Day In The Office

If you have a Twitter account you'll know it's just one big bragging playground.
In the form off..."Hey look at these free amazing, expensive shoes I've just been sent? Did I mention they were free? Amazing? And expensive?"
to..."I was out at the best party in London last night, with the best celebrities, who are, like, my best friends now."
and..."I've just told the funniest joke to everyone and now I'm so popular and hilarious. I wish I could be my friend." Etc etc...
So I'd like to take this opportunity to show the "amazing" things we get sent into GOSS.
Yep, you're going to be jealous of our super expensive, cutting edge, highly desired freebies.
Prepare yourself...

Goss reporter Ed Dyson and Justin Beiber, ahem....

A magazine, blow up guitar and microphone, ridiculous sunglasses and a cutout Justin Beiber face.

 *I can't lie I posted this picture on Twitter, I think 0.00001% of my Twitter "friends" were jealous.

Sorry, I can't help it.
We're just so lucky on Goss and I felt compelled to boast.

Sob.

The Wanted - peeing on a hamster

Had a really busy week last week.
Started off by intervieing The Wanted.
The lads are joining the London 2012 Olympic Torch Replay team... exciting stuff.
So not only did I get to chat to the five lads I also go to hold the Olympic torch....whoop.

The Wanted, me and the Olympic torch

They might look like five naive and innocent boy banders but they revealed they often get so wasted they don't know what they're doing.
Max told me he recently weed on a hamster when he was hammered saying: "I was at a party and the lights were broken. I was feeling around in this room and I'm half-blind anyway.
"I started having a wee and suddenly thought: 'That doesn't sound like a toilet', so I pinched it, opened the door to let some light in and saw it was a hamster's cage. To be fair I did clean out all the sawdust. No, I didn't clean the hamster. It was soggy.
"My nan was so disgusted last week when she read that I wet the bed when I was drunk.
"Now she's going to hear I pissed on a hamster. Great."

Jay chipped in: "Me and Nathan were sharing a hotel room in Burnley, apparently I came in blind drunk, unzipped my rucksack, which had all my clothes in, and just took a piss in it."


The lads also admitted they wante to go to V festival in fancy dress saying: "We were thinking we might wear ski masks so we can go out into the crowd and muck about. We might go raving in a burka.
If you see a group of people at the stand-up urinals in a burka, you'll know it's us. That would be hilarious."

They also admitted the hate The Only Way Is Essex as they're a bunch of chavvy orange clones.
The said they'd never date any of the cast in a million years saying they're "too good for them."

Ghost The Musical - crying

I shoud have also said we went to the celebrity gala night of Ghost The Musical.
So we were sitting by JLS' Aston, JB and Marvin - who was there with his Saturday's girlfriend Rochelle.
Other celebs included Denise Van Outen, Lorraine Kelly (and her really pretty daughter), Jennifer Ellison, McFly, Kimberly Walsh, Joe McElderry, Arlene Phillips.

So it was a good turn out.

Anyway, we (me and sonja) could hear someone sobbing behind us in our seats. Sonja was crying quite a bit, but she wasn't sobbing out loud and sniveling. We turned around to see who it was and it was Rochelle.
She had tears pouring down her face.
At the end we were going to speak to Rochelle to see if she enjoyed the show, but she'd done a legger with JLS in tow.
Apparently she cried so much she had to leave.
She even later tweeted: “Ghost is an amazing show! Just been to the launch you NEED to go! No question!! I cried loudly too #nothingworse.”

Her mate Aston replied: “Pure loud. If you watch with Roch then take EARPLUGS and a towel, Ha."

See our story in the Daily Star on Ghost here....

http://www.dailystar.co.uk/posts/view/202142/Rochelle-Wiseman-s-ghost-tears/Rochelle-Wiseman-s-ghost-tears

Ghost The Musical - a review

When my friend Sonja invited me to go to see Ghost The Musical I thought it would be a load of cheesy nonsense.
I love going to the theatre, and I like a good musical. But the early 90s film Ghost staring Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore and Whoppi Goldberg was a romantic fantasy...pure fromage. And based on the word "ditto".

It's far to say I wasn't expecting much. Apart from a few tears at the end when he (Sam) finally went off to heaven.
However, it was brilliant, I seriously recommend it.
Nothing like the superficial American drivel I expected.
It's fast paced, intense, dramatic, edgy, gritty... I was completely absorbed within the first 10 minutes.
Set in New York so it has a really fresh, contemporary vibe with the cast body popping like street dancers. The psychedelic lighting was really sharp and dramatic. The menacing subway ghost in the infamous underground train scene was fantastic. A black guy with huge grey/white dreadlocks who rapped, ranted and snarled through his singing parts.

The show is full of smoke and mirrors - the special effects make it stand out against any other musical I've seen for years.
Cast members impressively jump in and out of dead bodies and throw people up, down and through walls. Very clever.

Yes it has the cheesy pottery wheel scene but it also has sexy business men and woman zooming around on conveyor belts dancing to the beat of green strobe psychedelic lights.
And psychic Oda Mae Brown is hilarious. Flirty, flithy and fun.

This musical makes others look drab and old hat.
I'm sure there are many middle-age art critics who've panned Ghost The Musical but that's because they're stuck in the past and don't appreciate a modern take on culture.
And the dramatic, atmospheric music is probably too loud for them.

Fashion faux pas

I can quite honestly say I've never turned up to meet anyone wearing exactly the same clothes.

Not just a top or dress that's a simular style or colour.
I mean exactly the same clothes.

I met my fellow showbiz journo friend Halina Watts for some lunch and had this horrendous fashion faux pas.

If we'd been Paris Hilton we could have demanded the chauffeur turn around so we could get changed.
But as we're skint, not famous, showbiz hacks we had to grin and bare it.

Gutted.

Although remotely amusing.




 

Rustic Camping - my favourite hobbie

Everyone seems to want to go Glamping these days. ‘Campers’ taking along their duck-down duvets, feather pillows, fur throws, floor length mirrors etc.

Some of my mates, the ones with a bit of dosh, now camp in posh tipis complete with double bed, fridge and candle chandeliers.

However, I organised a simplistic camping trip.

I was expecting no frills, but I wasn't expecting our campsite to resemble something out of a horror movie. With a shower that makes you feel more dirty once you've used it.

Apparently that’s the price you have to pay if you want a fire next to your tent?




Forget glamourous tipis we're going basic. My friend Craig and his
very excited chidlren Izzy and Henry

 The boys got far too excited at the prospect of being able to throw raw meat on a huge blazing fire which they’d crafted themselves. And we only paid £7 each per night.

Not many camp sites allow roaring log fires, maybe we should have questioned why this one did??

Anyway...we turned up about 30 miles south of Oxfordshire and literally came face-to- face with an empty field, four porta toilets and endless grass surrounded by electric fencing. That was it.

We had a walk around.

Stumbled across a herd of cows and some chickens but nothing else.

We eventually located one solitary shower, surrounded by an army of insects and spiders.

It's good job no one planned to wash their hair all weekend.

My boyfriend Jimmy and me drunk round
the camp fire

The most amazing thing about our rustic, bohemian, no frills campsite was the sea of stars, literally thousands of them, lighting up the sky each night.

Because we were surrounded by nothing but meadows, hills and cattle fields the starlit sky was amazing.

My friend Tammy had a star gazing app on her iPhone called Star Map. It was awesome for us amateur astronomers. The program shows everything in the sky from planets, star charts, galaxies etc. Lets be honest, the only two everyone knows are Orion’s Belt (three stars in a diagonal line) and The Plough (seven stars shaped like a saucepan).

But who needs modern technology when you've red wine to pickle your senses?

One night, mid drunken stupor, I pointed out that the top of a tree, which was glowing in the moonlight, looked like an angry fox. We all started laughing and staring at it. I didn't even know that it was possible to hallucinate of red wine…even two boxes of it. It seems we'd reached a new booze high. Or low depending on how you look at it.

This is what we romanticised about

We'd hoped to let off Chinese lanterns. They're pretty cool and we planned to each write our names on them and release them into the sky. Yep, we envisioned some kind of fairy tale moment. But we had a complete disaster trying to set them off.

We were too drunk, stumbling around like loons, trying to light each side. By the time one side was alight the other had blown out and this continued for about 10 minutes flipping from side to side.

Eventually we sacked it off, panicking that we'd let them off and they’d come crashing down and set one of our tents on fire.

So much for the serene, romantic moment we were all expecting.

Despite the fact it rained for most of the weekend we had a great time. It stopped raining long enough for us to play rounders. The girls beat the boys. Oh yeah!

We even managed to refrain from gorging on sausages and burgers to make a king prawn and white wine risotto on our camping stove.

We baked garlic bread (wrapped in foil) in the fire and made a mozzarella and tomato salad. And a jug of Pimms.

Yeah... I know. We were quite impressed too. Who said this camping lark had to include the bog standard pot noodle?

Despite giggling in a field, drinking cheap red wine out of boxes and toasting marshmallows on an open fire the best bit about camping is going to sleep.

I love that first moment when you zip-up your tent, get in your sleeping bag and suddenly realise you’re sleeping five meters away from a bunch of strangers (other people in the field, not my friends).

You’re all high on life - sleeping on a bed of grass. In a dark field, in the middle of nowhere.

After the chorus of ‘good night John Boy’, ‘good night Jim Bob’, ‘good night Mary Ellen’... you suddenly tune into the random man snoring his face off a few tents away.

Although it's kind of annoying, it suddenly blends into the background of the excitement of sleeping in a tent surrounded by your best friends.

I truly love camping.

It baffles me when people say they hate it.

Give me a group of friends, in a nylon coloured dome over a 5 star spa any day.



Jimmy, Me, Tim, Sam, Tammy and Craig

JLS at M&M World

Sometimes I forget that men do seriously only think of one thing.They do.

I'm not a raving feminist or a man basher, in fact I think men are great I have stacks of awesome male friends, but it's true. And time and time again I'm reminded of this fact.

Whether it's men staring scarily at you on the tube, men perving at your ass as they politely (yeah sure) let you out the door first or just men sending you random, unnecessary flirty emails at work...that one confuses me? Why bother?

Anyway, men are born to cop an eyeful at every opportunity and flirt outrageously.

Peter Andre should 100% win an award or even an OBE for his contribution.

Pete can turn any conversation into sex and will give you more compliments in five minutes than there is time to utter said words.He's off the flirting Ricktar scale.

It's not personal, I've observed\ seen\ heard him do it to EVERY girl he’s around. He’s probably like it with his own mother. Which in turn doesn't really make any girl feel special and in that respect I have an smidgen of sympathy for Katie Price.

The second biggest candidates are JLS. Step forward Marvin and Aston.

I went to interview them for the opening of M&M world in Leicester Square - Boris Jonson was cutting the illusive ribbon but the lads were performing.

We only had five minutes to interview them and at least four of those minutes included them flirting outrageously. They can't help it. They're always on a full-on charm offensive. Well, at least that's one way to stop people writing bad things about you.



Chatting to the JLS backstage in their dressing room



The M&M lab where the chocolate is mixed

Check out the interview here where the lads embarrassingly admit Craig David drank them under the table..

Goss interview with JLS