Now then, let’s hear it for him . . . hip, hip, hip, hip. Yes, all heart. That’s our Harry. Off next month on a six-day jaunt to the States.
His itinerary includes a charity polo match at a Connecticut club closed to commoners. We do hope the rosy-cheeked wayward prince won’t be put off his game by a surgeon’s observation this week that Harry’s going bald.
Purely hereditary. Nothing at all to do with his alcohol indulgence on his nightclub round in Kensington and Soho. For God’s sake, Harry, whatever you do, don’t fall off your horse!
Incredibly, the great debate rages on here at Holyrood. It’s Jim “Bullseye” Bowen who resembles the new Pope facially, while others say Woody Allen’s a dead ringer for His Holiness.
I envisage Woody, starring himself, making a movie about this Pope. Meantime, Pat Nevin is renting Woody’s specs.
Afterwords . . .
. . . Joan Collins obliging with more info: “If I’m just shopping (in New York) it’s a raincoat, dark glasses and a baseball hat. Maybe two people out of a hundred will stop me but I don’t consider myself famous any more. Not like Angelina. I’m not in that league.”