Breasts! Lovely lovely breasts. Get ‘em while they’re hot!

That got your attention, sure enough, so it did! But ain’t that the kind of girl I am? In your face. I mean ‘IN YOUR FACE’. No messing about. Top model, top wife, top mother, and now according to ‘Conde Nasty Brides’ magazine, top bride as well. Can’t argue with that, can ya’? And that, ladies, is why I’m also a successful novelist. No pussyfooting around with me. Straight into the action. No plot. No setting the scene. Straight to the wobbly bits and make no mistake!

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Hello!

Tom Cruise here. No, it’s really me. I was just walking past this guy on his mobile and I thought it would be a cool thing to take it off him and talk to the person at the other end. Now I’m landed with editing this website for the week.

Well, I’m not one to waste an opportunity like this. So, now I want you to look deeply into my eyes… deep… you’re feeling sleepy. You’re feeling very SLEEPY! Listen to my soft gentle voice. You know you want to join the Scientologists… You want to join the…

Only kidding!

God! I SO love that joke. Freaks people out. You see! I am a fun guy. I like a laugh. I like to joke as much as the next guy. Nothing creepy about me. L. Ron Hubbard enjoyed a joke too so don’t you be believing anything anybody tells you on that score. There’s nothing paranormal about old Tommy boy… Good old Tom. Stuff of the American dream. Though if you give me any of that psychology crap we’ll have to take it outside. I mean there’s nothing I hate MORE… than being TOLD… how to FEEL… about THINGS… OKAY?

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Hey there!

Nice to be here. Nice to be me, really. Hey! Don’t blame me. So witty. So warm. So rich. Can’t help it. Just being me.

Anyway, looking forward to guest editing this website this week. Well, not actually ‘editing’. More like taking a few quid for a couple of minutes work. I’m not actually even here. Well, I’m here… here in my posh luxury hotel room in New York. What I meant is I’m glad to be dictating this down the phone. You’ve got sixty seconds of my time. Cost them a fortune to get me. Talent doesn’t come cheap. That’s what I said to my friend Larry David the other day. I know all the stars… Larry, Ben Stiller, Jonathan Woss, the chap from the Kentucky Fried Chicken ad. Madonna’s a fan. Can’t say it’s mutual, though. Call me old fashioned but breasts should not be triangular.

How long’s that? Thirty seconds. Okay, keep going…

It was an honour when the people at The Spine asked me to be guest editor for the week. They said will you do it? I said: how much. Lovely people though. Very poor. Nice to do something to help the little people. I was little once. Then I had the world’s biggest comedy hit and I’m little no longer. Still, like to do my bit for the little inconsequential people. And working on The Spine is actually classed as charity work. Tax deductible. Picture me making comic gesture with my hands. Smile. Smile. Comic timing. Comedy gold.

Forty five seconds?

So, I’m sure this week will be full of news Not sure what news. Don’t read the papers except Variety. Ooh… Look at him! Gone all ‘showbiz’. Well yes. Yes, I have. It’s called success, sunshine, and don’t you forget it.

Right, I think you’ve had your sixty seconds. Don’t forget to send the cheque. I’m off to a big society bash in the Guggenheim  now. Wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t bump into Gore Vidal or Norman Mailer. I’ll give them your best wishes, though I’m sure they won’t know who you are. Anyway, have to dash. I hear Gore wants to turn my Flanimals (available at all good bookshops) into a novel. I’ll see what he has to say before I say yes. Got to be careful with these Americans. Check their CV before you give them a job. I mean, everybody thinks they’re the next Ronnie Corbett…
Cheers,

Ricky

Hellooo there!

I was sooo delighted when I was asked to be this week’s guest editor of The Spine. Being the ex-wife… Oops!!! Nearly tripped up there! I better start again. I don’t want Paul’s lawyers to come after me. I’m sooo innocent, don’t you know? And lawyers are sooo like landmines. They are just sooo horrible…

Sooo, being the soon-to-be-ex-wife of a super rich meanie like Paul McCartney means I don’t have much time in the week to devote to some of my favourite hard-luck causes such as myself. What with defending my innocence in court and trying to wring every last penny from that stingy old sod… I wouldn’t mind but he wouldn’t have even joined the bloody Beatles if I hadn’t told him to. He wanted to go and form his own band called ‘Paul’s Jellied Heels’. It was me who told him he should go with the Merseybeat sound. He was more interested in the sound of the River Dee. I told him it would never be in the same league of major UK tributaries as the River Mersey. But that’s Paul all over. Doesn’t know a thing about rivers…

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