Well, wotta weekend this has been. Sometimes too much for a gnarled old cynic to handle. We’re trained to stay with it, of course.
Tom Jones has been keeping a watery welcome in the hillsides, sobbing on the telly as a prelude to Carol Vorderman breaking down for Piers Morgan over her divorce from her ex. She loved him, she really did. It was her career wot did it.
Middle of it all (pass me a tissue) an American gynaecologist claims to have proved the G-spot really does exist. Maybe your gynae has had the proof all along but wouldn’t let you know on the National Health.
As if that wasn’t enough, Susan Boyle, reportedly, tells us she was “terrified and shaken’’ when an obsessed fan tried to break into her hotel room. It wasn’t me, honest, but I confess I’ve dreamed the dream. Then a dog owner reveals how a bird of prey with a six-foot wingspan , a red kite, tried to snatch her pet Pomeranian from her arms.
All it would have taken to make it a totally hellish weekend would have been defeat away to St Mirren yesterday. Working to a copy deadline, I have to add.
Afterwords . .
. . . George Clooney talking at 50: “I’m the kind of guy who could just sit in a room, watch TV and let days go by. What you do in films is separate to your life.’’