If the marriage of Cheryl and Ashley has taught us anything, apart from that even the most dramatic splits get tedious if dragged out long enough, it’s that all things must come to an end, and much like their relationship and the career of Lindsey Lohan this gorgeous column is facing it’s final curtain, or at least taking a break until after Edinburgh.
What a year and a half? What a privilege! We’re wandered together you and I, like Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin through The Hundred Acre Wood of the Celebrity Unwell; break ups, overdoses and personal disaster, together we’ve listened, learned and mainly laughed at them all.
But then everybody is replaceable. Much as I’d like to imagine you staring at the bottom of a whiskey tumbler, sleeping pills in one hand, old photo in the other like Rita Sullivan who’s just found out that Alan Bradley was back.
But let’s be honest, pretty soon there’ll be another celebrity journalist with an unhealthy interest in Suri Cruise to win over your shallow fickle swinging bricks and I’ll be yesterday’s Heat front cover. Think of poor Christina Aguilera, taking time out from wearing arseless chaps to have baby; she probably thought her job was safe. Sod it she thought, I can actually sing and Britney is turning into Syd Barret in a push up bra, I’ll have another mojito thanks. Then she finally returns to work to find Lady GaGa, like the replacement temp from hell, writhing around her corner desk, her plants un watered, her files completely rearranged and her own career suddenly irrelevant.
Oh Christina the shame! You didn’t hoof your way through Disney Club with Britters claiming Mickey Mouse was talking to her to be replaced by a posh kid from New York City. It’s almost as if people have forgotten how dirty, sorry dirrrty you were! We watched her grow from wannabe in a bottle, to I’ve been tangoed bad black hair dye washing isn’t sexy , to her final transformation into a Marilyn Monroe drag queen. Constant reinvention being the requisite for all self respecting popstars nowadays; honestly Madonna has a lot to answer for.
Throughout all her personas there was always something flintily unlikeable about the girl. Yes she had a voice that could knock down buildings but she never seemed like the type of girl who’d hold back your hair if you were vomiting, more like the one who’d spiked your drink in the first place. She looked like she’d sell her own granny for a lead vocal whereas Lady Gaga acts like she’d stab her own mother for the sheer theatricality. Oh Christina, we’ve tasted the real thing now and compared to the perfect full flavoured pop madness of Gaga, you remind us of the flat coke dodgy landlords try to get away with serving .
Though it’s not Gaga I worry about, or even Christina, it’s the little ones I lose sleep over-like wee Lee Ryan from Blue. That’s why I’ve started a new charity; Lee Aid. Do you know for just three pound a month you can sponsor somebody to follow the ex Blue star around and check everything that comes out of his mouth. For five pound you get to be that person.
Poor old Lee, like Father Dougal with a permanent erection, the sudden boom in communication hasn’t helped him. The singer has a veritable blazing squad of illegitimate children, cheerfully divulges threesomes with fellow band members, and when trying to crack America responded to the recent terrorist attacks with the now legendary “"Who gives a f**k about New York when elephants are being killed".
He has really met his Waterloo in the form of Twitter. Maybe the site should be forced to add a security question “Are you Lee Ryan formerly from Blue” and like clicking that you are indeed under 18 for other websites, if you click yes, you’re immediately directed to a Disney website.
Lee has been a busy boy. He’s used the website to call various members of the public pig faces, threaten others with violence and attempt to sell a film script to Tom Cruise. He quite sweetly signed the message LEE RYAN!!! X. AS if to reassure Tom, that his eyes weren’t deceiving him, it was the All Rise star himself.
While Blue's cover of the Elton John song suggested it was “sorry” for me it's “good bye” that is the hardest word. Thank you so much for joining me on my scavenging through the rubbish bins of celebrity gossip. Hopefully we’ll see each other again, and know, much like the crazy characters Jennifer Connolly met in “Labyrinth”, whenever you need me I’ll be there. However, unlike them, you won’t find me creepily looking over your shoulder every time you look in the mirror (which must be getting very annoying for Jennifer by now - move Hoggle I’m trying to put my contacts in!)No, I’ll be at your nearest newsagent or the magazine section of large supermarkets. Rifling through the gossip mags and not paying for any of them.