I know it’s the hot topic on everyone’s lips at the moment – so right here, right now, I’ll bring you the answer. Well, sort of.

Let’s take a look at one WAG in particular. She’s called Nives Celsius (catchy name) and you may have already come across her in the British press. She and her husband, Dino Drpic, famously once had sex on the pitch of Dinamo Zagreb’s stadium. Then, their young son was apparently once momentarily snatched whilst they were on holiday on the Croatian coast, as the snatchers thought they had found and were saving Madeleine McCann. (It was all resolved quickly.) Finally – and I don’t believe this was reported in the British press, though I can’t think why – Ms Celsius was pulled over whilst driving by the Croatian police just before Christmas. When asked for her ID, she replied – “Here’s my ID!” and promptly lifted up her top.

Anyways, moving swiftly to the present day-ish. A few weeks ago, writing on her blog, Nives proclaimed that she too had been John Terry’s lover. Actually, no she wasn’t – that particular post title was an error on her part as a result of writing late at night. (Do watch out for me proclaiming the same or similar on this blog one day – I also sometimes write late at night!) The blog post in question still has the title – a correction apparently isn’t warranted – though the actual content of the post is priceless. Basically, Nives advises Mrs Terry to stick with John and forgive him because she’ll never get any better. As she’s “not such a great fish”, she won’t be able to hook another footballer, whilst if they split, John would hook up with a hot model and the public will forgive him pretty quickly; Mrs Terry also otherwise wouldn’t be someone read about “around the world”. And so, according to Nives, WAGs forgive whilst footballers continue to cheat. In fact, having seen the poor quality of English football mistresses, she suggests young Croatian gold-diggers head to England. Hmm. Fair point.

No word on her relationship with Tiger Woods or Ashley Cole, or her advice to Elin Woods and Cheryl Cole.

Hmmm…I think this is the wrong kind of proposal

The BBC News reports on a “helpful” strategy that Manchester Airport are employing for Valentine’s Day in order to avoid any secretly hidden engagement rings being unveiled at airport security…thereby ruining the surprise of a proposal.

Travellers can now say a special code phrase which will see them screened privately, so all lovely and not-so-lovely rings stay firmly hidden the lucky girl (or guy?) is none the wiser.

The only problem – I think, anyway – is that the phrase in question is “be my Valentine”. Now, if I were travelling to some exotic locale for a romantic getaway with my loved one and they uttered this phrase to a security guard at the airport, I’d think they were cracking onto them. And then I’d get mad. And then I’d probably dump them.

It’s a recipe for disaster.

• BBC News: Manchester Airport Valentine code for secret proposals

I know that you’re the kind of person that swings from one ill-advised obsession to another, so start planning the next fixation that will consume you more than knitting does. (I’ve totally read you – huh? HUH?!?!?!)

Over in the U.S. just before Christmas, I caught the first episode of a new MTV reality series – Jersey Shore. 8 very proud Italian Americans – 4 guys, 4 girls – get put into a house in a small town on the shore in New Jersey during summer, working (sort of) in their landlord’s souvenir tat shop by day, and partying hard by night.

Oh wow, fascinating, I bet you’re thinking? Yeah, well, I hear your sarcasm! I know you think it sounds a bit like Big Brother set on the seaside, or a ethnically focused Real World. Or any other handful of other recent reality TV shows, let’s face it. (The Apprentice without the enterprise? X Factor without the horrible manipulation? Pretty much exactly like I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here without Ant & Dec?)

Oh boy – if you’ve seen it, you wouldn’t be saying “faaascinating? in your scarcastic, bored tone. For this show is pure brilliance. And I say this even though I’ve only seen one episode – three times (long story). You will never have seen hair as big, clothes so small or lacking several sections, abs so chiselled, fake tan so dark and fist pumping (in clubs…to music…) so loud and proud. Best of all are the names some of characters go by – Sweetheart, The Situation, JWoww and star of the show, Snooki. Oh darling Snooki!

This show’s all over America in a big way – both good and bad. Whilst ratings have been high, even beating one of MTV’s most popular shows, The Hills, certain groups and companies have trashed it, claiming it shows Italian Americans or the Jersey shore area in a bad light. Some advertisers have even pulled out of screening their ads during the series – including that bastion of the Italian American community, Dominos Pizza.

Any British equivalent would probably be aired on Zany! TV Sky Channel 893 at 12.30am on a Friday – or possibly be screened primetime on ITV1. It would have obnoxious, not loveable, cast members and be watched by a handful of people either drunk, home from their Friday night out, or waiting for Corrie to come on.

I can’t find any proper Jersey Shore clips to back up my post (oh boy…perhaps I should have checked before I started writing) so you’re going to have to trust me on this one. Though here’s a little clip from a newscast featuring one of the defining moments of the first series:

That’s what they’re called Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt these days, isn’t it?

Anyways, seems these two freaky lovebirds are heading for a split – and carving up the fortune and vast number of babies before they do so. (BTW, not literally carving up babies. That’s weird.)

Earlier this week, the Daily Mail had the following exclusive snippet (were they actually there?! Disguised as a piece of sushi?!) of what might have been the final nail in the coffin for their relationship:

Gone 10pm in the award-winning Alto restaurant in Midtown Manhattan, and the world’s most famous showbusiness couple have already been there for four hours.

They’ve sunk five bottles of wine (two red, two white and an Italian dessert wine) and eaten a four-course dinner, while the friends they were discussing charity work with have long gone.

Now, as fellow diners including actor Alec Baldwin look on, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are struggling to keep their emotions in check. He looks close to tears as he tells the mother of their children that she needs to get psychiatric help or he will leave her.

And I’m thinking – wow! Alec Baldwin was there? I love that guy! He’s amazing in 30 Rock, the role fits him perfectly – that slight-crazy-but-nice middle-aged exec. You know, I once saw him play a lawyer in an episode of Will & Grace which was very similar to the character of Jack Donaghy, and I wonder if the people behind 30 Rock i.e. Tina Fey saw that and thought he’d be good for their show? I’m also really grateful he’s not Stephen…or Daniel…or heck, even Billy. I wonder if he’ll be any good as the Oscars co-host this year?

Here’s Alec Baldwin being brilliant as Jack Donaghy with my other favourite, Gob from Arrested Development also being brilliant: (just a shame the new white square character didn’t have much to say in this scene)

Sad news. People in Sweden have built a straw goat, which has burnt to the ground. Poor goat.

Well, let me expand a little – the 43-foot straw goat, a “traditional Scandinavian Yuletide symbol” was erected this Christmas in Gavle (just north of Stockholm) as it has been every year since 1966.

Though also every year (well almost – only 10 times since goat number one has this not happened), the goat is vandalised in some way, usually by being set alight and burning to the ground.

And this has happened to poor Mr Swedish Goat yet again, as he went up in flames early this morning.

Now, initially I sat here sniggering – oh, those Swedes! Building straw goats! And then always burning them! But then…I found out that the straw goat has his own blog. Gavlebockens (snappy name! Ahem, though it just means “Gavle’s Goat”) posted regularly (in both Swedish and English – a bilingual straw goat, you can’t get more impressive than that), even finding time to post whilst he was going up in flames. This appeared this morning:

Terrible night! Slept so well under my beautiful snow blanket, when it suddenly became awfully hot. It was fire!!! At 3 AM, someone managed to set me on fire and destroy the amazing Christmas spirit in Gävle. So sad that I can’t celebrate Christmas with you all, but thank you so much for now, dear friends. I’m sad to sad to say that I must go now. I’m going on holiday now to get some rest – but will of course be back for next Christmas. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

You know I’m now sitting here sobbing my eyes out over this poor, straw, not-even-real goat. (Hey, I’m a girl, I cry at anything.) *sniffle* He didn’t even get to see Christmas…

You rotters! Who sets upon a poor, defenceless straw goat? Anyone touches ol’ Gavlebockens next year, they’ll have me to answer to.

• BBC News: Swedish Christmas straw goat burnt

P.S. Ohmagawd, there’s something about Gavlebockens having a baby brother that was vandalised and never came back, and he was said, and…*waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh*…

P.P.S. Oh wait, then there’s another post about him watching Swedish Idol. Urgh.

Well done everyone! We’ve done it! We’ve beaten the evil kitten-eater Simon Cowell and the winner of his spreadsheet talent contest The Excel Factor, Steve Brookstein, in their bid to get the Christmas number one with their cover of Disney starlet Billy Ray Cyrus’s hit, The Fall. (Yeah, that sentence has too much “spoof”. I know. Well, I haven’t posted properly in a while, I’ve got to get my remaining spoof out before the year ends. Plus I don’t watch X Factor, so only have a vague idea of what actually goes on.)

Anyways, yes, a lot of “us” bought Rage Against The Machine’s Killing In The Name, regardless of whether we liked it or not or remembered the song first time round etc etc. And we drove it to number one, with 50,000 more copies sold than Joe McElderry’s The Climb.

Though why people are calling this a chart upset beats me. Or even a Christmas number one upset. Sure, the X Factor winner has been number one for the last 40 years so this year’s X Factor’s winner was guaranteed it again, even if the winner had been a raisin wearing a woolly hat. But then a Facebook campaign/group started, attracting almost 1 million followers – 500,000 more members than actually bought the single. (Eh?)

So when you expect several hundreds of thousands of people to buy a single and there’s a damn good chance that it hits the top spot – that it actually gets there isn’t that surprising or even that much of an upset. Okay, so it beat what most people expected to be there instead (well, most people prior to December), but it’s just not that surprising. If Lady Gaga – who ended up in the third spot – actually got to number one instead of either single, that would be an upset. If Michael Jackson had suddenly appeared on the Monday in HMV Oxford Street and urged everyone to buy his new single for Christmas and it hit the top spot, that would be an upset. If the number one “spot” magically disappeared and there was NO number one, that would be an upset. If…oh, you get the picture.

And the same goes for Christmas number one upsets in previous years. For example, 1985 is often mentioned as an example – when Shakin’ Stevens Merry Christmas Everyone beat Whitney Houston’s Saving All My Love For You. Upset – what upset? More people bought Shakey’s single.

And it’s about Christmas, at least.

And look at his nice red scarf:

From BBC News:

Normally I’d write a bit more in a blog entry – make a wise crack, explain what the eff’s going on, blabber on about the 1980s, mouth off about Simon Cowell – that kind of thing.

But this doesn’t need any of that. All of us can just sit back and smile, safe in the knowledge that a Def Leppard cartoon is – FINALLY – about to be made.

Phew.

• BBC News: Def Leppard cartoon show in pipeline

Technically, I haven’t stumbled upon this *right* now. In fact, I found it via  a link on a page that was linked to on another page that was linked to in a comment of a blog that I found when clicking on a link on a page. And this all took place just after my last blog post - over a month ago. But this is so truly amazing that it’s taken me a month to recover from freaking out near daily.

And it’s all related to my last post – Patrick Bateman based on Tom Cruise, so says Christian Bale. Which somehow led me to find this beautiful video:

 Beautiful.

This is best thing I’ve read all year. Well, all month. Day. Hour. Okay, the best thing I’ve read whilst I’m waiting for my washing machine to finish.

Director of American Psycho, Mary Harron, revealed in a recent magazine interview how she and lead actor Christian Bale worked on establishing the character, Patrick Bateman. After talking at length in various phone calls, Bale one day revealed seeing someone that would help establish the kind of person Patrick Bateman was.

Tom Cruise.

I totally see it. This makes me like American Psycho, Christian Bale and Patrick Bateman a little bit more. Heck, it even makes me like Tom Cruise. Well, only because I’m now imagining that he’s Patrick Bateman.

I don’t know if this is the interview because my two seconds of research don’t reveal when it’s from, but it sure could be. His laughing is mesmerising. Especially laughing about cutting someone’s oxygen supply off.

Dlisted: This Makes Sense

We all know Amy Winehouse lives in Crazyville. She’s spent the better part of the last two years overdoing the drink and drugs during which time her only bit of work seemed to be fighting strangers in pubs. She wears a hairstyle so high that several small birds – and possibly a few eagles, goats and Ronnie Corbett - live in there. She’s obsessed with a seemingly useless and actually quite ugly husband (or is it ex-husband – who knows?) when she really could do better.

And now’s she bought herself new boobs. For £35,000. Now, Amy, I’ve never had a boob job myself and nor have I ever investigated the possibility. But I had always thought that you could get a boob job for a few thousand pounds these days. For all I know, it’s probably even only £50 + Ryanair return tickets (so, £50.99)  in Eastern Europe. So for £35,000, I can only assume:

a) she’s been totally had – the doctors figured – hey, if she’s that out of it, what will she notice if we charge her a figure with an extra “zero” in it?
b) her new breasts are made of gold
c) or possibly coke
d) her old boobs were in such a sorry state she needed that amount of work done to them

I don’t like the idea of that last one. Grrr. I’m going to have that image in my head all night.

• The Sun: Winehouse flashes her new boobs