Jade Goody

Jade Goody is dying. And as this poor girl struggles through her last few days, the entire world seems to be looking on. Except for me.

I have made a point of not reading any of the interviews, I have not bought OK or Hello! magazines and I have not watched her wedding on Living TV. I can't bear to. I don't WANT to read about the horrific and tragic illness she is being consumed by. I want the world to stop watching, I want Jade to have some final moments of dignity.

Most of Jade's adult life, and her entire career has been in front of the cameras. First on Big Brother, and then in the voyeuristic fame that followed. Jade was the loud mouthed and slightly stupid girl who drunkenly stripped off and wailed about her 'kebabs' in front of 5 million viewers. Jade was the girl who didn't have a clue about Geography, or much else for that matter.

After the BB house Jade's star shone bright in a way that no other Big Brother contestant has ever experienced, and as her career grew so the world looked on. But even as her profile rose the world still laughed at her, we all felt superior to her: "That Jade, well she's nice but a bit dim really isn't she..."

In fly-on-the-wall documentaries we watched her open a beauty salon, launch perfumes and hire a personal assistant. In the tabloids we followed the birth of her two children, saw her split from Jeff Brazier and embark on her turbulent relationship with toy-boy Jack Tweedy. We watched all this while still looking down on her, still feeling superior to her. We laughed and tutted as she collapsed during her London Marathon attempt after doing little more to train than eat take-away curries - We'd NEVER be so stupid would we!

And so her car-crash existence carried on. The was her infamous appearance on Celebrity Big Brother that saw the people of India take to the streets and burn effigies of her. There was her awful, awful mother who no one should ever have put on TV. There were violent the antics of her now husband Jack, who seemed to consider himself above the law, that landed him straight in jail.

I, like many people, never liked Jade very much. I thought she was a bully in her original appearance of BB, let alone her behavior on Celeb BB. Her stupidity annoyed me. Her voice had the same effect on me as nails scratching slowly down a black board. But there comes a point when enough is enough. Nobody would wish cancer on their worst enemy, and when I heard Jade's cancer had been diagnosed as terminal I felt sick to my stomach. This girl is only in her twenties. She is one year older than me. She will leave behind two small boys who will grow up without their mum. It is heartbreaking. And I don't want to read about it at all.

We come into the world in private, and we leave the world in private. Death, and the process of dying, is not something that should be splashed across the media in this way. I feel nauseous to think that magazine editors have been hashing out multi-million pound deals to cover this poor girl's tragic last minute marriage and christening. There comes a point when we should no longer be watching. I feel like the world is now circling like vultures, waxing lyrical about how sad it all is while still whispering to themselves that this would never happen to them and feeling the ultimate superiority - the superiority of knowing they are going to carry on living after she is gone.

I hope Jade is as comfortable as she can be, and I hope she finds comfort in being at home surrounded by her family and loved ones. I hope for a miracle, but don't think a miracle will come. For Jade I am so sorry. And because I am so sorry I will never, ever pick up a magazine that is printing paparazi shots of a tragic, frail and dying young cancer victim. I hope the world will look back with shame, but I fear it will not.

Peaches Geldof: words cannot express...

I think I can honestly say there is no one in showbusiness I dislike more than Peaches Geldof. Every time I read about her antics in the paper my oppinion of her sinks lower, and lower.

She's popped up again today. Speculation that her 5 month marriage to Chester French rocker Max Drummey was over because she 'no longer fancied him'. Wow. Breaking news, totally unexpected as well. I'm reeling from the shock, can you tell?

She just just reeks of a spoilt, immature little 'princess'.

First of all she poisoned my ears with her wooden performance presenting Big Brother's Big Mouth in place of Russell Brand. My ears started to bleed before I had a chance to switch off. I have never heard such an annoying voice in all my life. Public school screechy smug lisp is a good way to try and describe it. Urgh.

Then she poisoned my eyes when photos of her started appearing in the London Lite and London Paper EVERY DAY for months, a various intoxicated states. The one of her bottom dangling in full view as she tried to climb over a park gate in front of a crowd of paps was the classic. Attention seeking? Surely not.



Then she made my brain bleed after I read her 'column' for American magazine, Nylon, on her life in New York. It reads more like a piece of GCSE coursework than published journalism and is so self obsessed and pointless I wondered if it was a joke when I first had the misfortune of reading it. I can't actually work out what she is trying to tell us, except that she is a spoilt brat, but some gems include:

"My days here are spent working on interviews for NYLON TV, writing articles, and listening to Cory regale me with tales of her life in L.A., which are always ludicrous and funny, her high-pitched hyena laugh filling the office as Marvin strums his guitar and dreams up ideas for the next issue."

Wow Peaches, your life sounds so cool. And then...

"My best friend here is a boy named Bunny. We spend our days traipsing around Manhattan—him in skin-tight plaid trousers, huge geek glasses, and a mass of red hair sticking out haphazardly from beneath an Amish-style hat."

Well how sweet! But what about laughing Cory and the guitar strumming Marvin?

She seems to write totally believing her own hype, expecting us all to be jealous of her 'trendy' life in New York. But in reality she just sounds like a little girl who has a lot of growing up to do. And did I mention her writing makes my brain bleed?

A A Gill, if it is him - it certainly sounds like him, sums her effort up strikingly:

"Perhaps go away for a while. Stop searching for limelight. Stop living in dreams and see now, now. Get some life experience, keep your head down until you do and save us from this insipid, vacuous social commentary that justifies the dislike of you."

Quite.

Surely everyone knows if you want some decent commentary on life in New York all you need is LibertyLondonGirl? Peaches, take note!

Crimes of Fashion: Ferne Britton

There is something very wrong about this outfit. Now don't get me wrong - I think it's fantastic Ferne Britton has managed to loose so much weight and she obviously feels great. However, she seems to be feeling so great that she has forgotten her age.

Could someone please tell our Ferne that at 51 it's not OK for her to be borrowing her daughter's Kate Moss @ Topshop ruffled mini-dress. She frankly looks ridiculous. And I hope it is her daughter's dress. If Ferne has actually gone out and bought this it somehow seems ten times worse. She is not just showing a bit of knee, she is showing practically her whole thigh. There comes an age where a woman should gracefully accept it's not quite right to show off her entire leg, and most likely her bottom too.

The huge scarf, long coat and snow-boots finish off the disaster, drowning her in layers. This whole look adds ten years on to Ferne, making her look tired and frumpy.

Please Ferne, now you have this amazing new figure - do it justice! Leave the ra-ra ruffles and mini dresses to those young enough to wear them, and invest in some beautiful tailored pieces. I'm sure you can more than afford your own wardrobe, so leave your daughter's alone!

Gordon Ramsey playing away from home

Who would have thought it? Gordon Ramsay having sordid hotel romps with this not-very attractive blonde and a bottle of poppers. And not just once either, apparently the affair has been going for seven years with the woman who's previous affairs include Jeffrey Archer. The woman who classes herself as a 'professional mistress' and even wrote a handbook for other women conducting affairs on the subject. Classy. Turns out she approached Max Clifford to be her PR, and he thankfully turned her down.

Nice pants, love.

One Rebecca Loos in the world is plenty for me. Call me old fashioned but I don't see there is anything to shout from the treetops about having it away with someone else's husband. I hope this tart disappears back under what ever rock she crawled from.

Crimes of Fashion: Amy Winehouse

I'm sorry, but who stole all the mirrors in Amy Winehouse's place. This has got to be the worst outfit I've seen in a long time.

Please love, cover yourself up.

I can't quite work out the string vest and nude bra combination. Maybe she is hoping passersby will do a double take and wonder where the hell her niples are?

Sadly as well as dealing with the effects of shock from this intentional wardrobe malfunction, it looks like we also need to say RIP to the beehive. Maybe the flurry of wino Halloween costumes banged the nail in that coffin.

While it is great to see Amy looking a little healthier again, let us hope the next step will be some pride in her appearance.