I would love to tell you which celebrity K is talking to right now, even as I type – but the information is, as they say, “embargoed”. All I can safely say is this: she has been on the front cover of Heat, Hello and OK, and her level of celebrity was sufficient to send K into a MAJOR Outfit Tizz yesterday evening.
(It took a good hour, several jackets, most of his smart trousers, and his entire shoe collection – but the Paul Smith suit we eventually selected combined vet-friendly brown corduroy with a sharp, celebrity-compatible cut. I could charge for this sort of work, you know.)
The trouble is: I hate having to keep secrets. One of life’s blabbermouths, that’s me. Mainly because I can never quite see the point of secrets, even when the need for them is screamingly obvious to anyone else with half a brain. There’s just something about the whole concept of secrecy which bothers me; a hangover from the whole “coming out” process, no doubt. For once you’ve broken free from a secret as major as your sexual orientation, it is tempting to view all “lesser” secrets as not worth keeping. It’s a strange kind of naïve adolescent idealism, which I’ve never fully grown out of.
I am also burdened with a more childlike desire: to be The One Who Breaks The Big Story. There is something delicious and irresistable about watching people react to a juicy piece of news which I HAVE TOLD THEM; it makes me feel all Important and Special, rather like that awful gossipy elephant in Dumbo. Combine these two factors, stir in my abilities as a Good Listener (providing you’ve got some good dirt to dish, that is) – and you’re left with a dangerously unmanageable personality trait, which has got me into some awful trouble over the years.
Perhaps I should have gone into journalism years ago.
STOP PRESS: The embargo has been LIFTED!
Tell you what: let’s play Name That Celebrity Twenty Questions in the comments box. One question per person please, and your question should be phrased so as to expect either a “Yes” or a “No” answer.
Readers of the Brighton Argus – and I’m sure there are many – will be able to discover the answer for themselves in Friday’s edition.
Off you go!
Note 1: As this celebrity is not widely known outside the UK, overseas readers will be operating with a fairly massive handicap.
Note 2: Alan, Dymbel, Mish and JP are forbidden from participating. Well, breaking the embargo to carefully selected confidantes is no crime, is it? Quod erat demonstrandum, I guess.
troubled diva 