THE WEEK THAT WAS… 10TH AUGUST 2012 ‘OLYMPICS’

A round-up of some of the week’s stories that kept us awake at night…

Apparently, the Olympic Games are taking place at the moment.  Athletes from all nations have descended on London to battle it out for the opportunity to win a small, round, metal disc that you could probably buy on eBay for close to a fiver (and there was me thinking they had just flown in to see George Michael and The Spice Girls at the closing ceremony).  There have been some totes hilarious images emerging from these Games – my favourite to date has probably been that of Henrik Rummel on the podium, being awarded his medal for rowing (if you haven’t already seen it, close the curtains and Google it) – but it is the range of sports on offer that has really piqued my interest.  Archery…BMX…trampoline…seriously?  Looking around this week at our friends in Celebville, it made me think that we should introduce a few more bizarre events so that they too can enter the Games and compete against one another in an effort to try and bag a medal to put beside their Oscar/Grammy/BAFTA/Razzie.

When I originally saw the pictures of La Lohan relaxing in a white one-piece, all casual-like, at a Hollywood hotel this week, I thought that she would be a shoe-in for a synchronised swimming title.  All she needs is jaunty cap and a peg on her nose to complete the look – and I’m sure she could borrow those from her new BFF Lord Gaga.  But on closer inspection, I see Lindsay is actually entering a whole new event – Worst Fake Tan.  It’s an impressive effort, but clearly Lindsay has never been to Essex, where some of the world’s top proponents of the sport train; if she had, she would realise that she still has some way to go before hitting the dizzy Bob-Monkhouse-heights of fake tannery.  So with that in mind, Lindsay, despite a valiant effort, I can only award you the bronze(r) medal, but I look forward to seeing you in Rio 2016.

Next up, is the dog-eat-dog world of the Cougar Competition.  Before the Games started, Sharon Stone was talked about as a guaranteed gold medal prospect in this event.  Here she is this week in Bucharest with toy-boy Martin Mica, on their way to lunch with Andy Garcia.  Apparently Shaz and Marty have been dating for a few months now and the 27 year age difference is completely insignificant.  You go girl, I say!  However, it’s not all good news, as on this occasion, Sharon has been pipped at the post by Her Madgesty who continues to excel at this event.  Yes, Madonna is still dating Brahim Zaibat and as their age is closer to 30 years, I’m afraid it’s only silver for Stone on this occasion.  Something tells me that Sharon won’t be too disappointed to know that she has to keep up the training for a few more years.  Practise makes perfect…

If Sleaze were an Olympic event, I’d be cheering for the Kartrashians every time.  Without knowing if the story is completely true or not, rumours emerged this week that Kris, Kim’s “momager”, was actually the person who helped broker the sale of her daughter’s sex tape, which catapulted her to multi-million dollar fame and a life with her beard Kanye West.  Do you know the two things I hate most about Kris?  Her face.  Yes, back in 2007, this loving mom was allegedly the middle-woman who was brought in to market this video to an adult entertainment company.  True or not, and call me old-fashioned, but in my opinion “mother”, “daughter”, “marketing” and “sex-tape” are words that should never appear in the same sentence.  I’d award a medal for this story, but it would mean nothing to them; the Kartrashians would just pop it into a Cash-For-Gold envelope quicker than you could say talentless cow.

And now to news of some athletic come-backs.  As you may recall, I am not a fan of Jessie J(og on).  Frankly, I think she has a voice like a tuneless vocoder and wears clothes which Zandra Rhodes would regard as cartoonish.  So, imagine my unbridled joy when I read that she has just parted company with “stylist” Karl Willet and is now channeling a new look.  Gone are the jump suits (camel podiatrists everywhere can relax), Docs and severe bobs; and hello to hair extensions, Vivienne Westwood couture and strappy sandals.  I have no idea if this will work, and I still think she sounds like a bag of cats, but really, where there’s Vivienne, there’s hope.

But that was not the most welcome come-back of the week: oh no, that honour must surely go to Liberty Ross.  Who knows if the smile is genuine, but to see her out and about in LA this week sans wedding ring and with a crucifix the size of a small country was most encouraging.  A more dignified, subtle look I cannot imagine: it screams “Trampires, get thee behind me; and Rupert – you have fun with Krusty, ‘cos I’m off to get some Rio ’16 training in with Sharon and Madge”.  Liberty by name and liberty by nature – take to the podium, girl, and enjoy your golden moment…