Good God. A whole week has gone by. Just like that.

*Makes Formula 1 racing car noise for effect*

I watched Atonement t’other night. For those of you who haven’t seen it and would not like me to ruin it for you, skip the italics…

To the rest of you, it was bloody good stuff but hand me a noose, it turned me a freshly bruised shade of melancholy for nearly 24 hours. I know the ending is redemptive, blah blah blah, but I’d recommend you read the book for a slower drip-drip-drip on the sadness. Rather than full-frontal glumity.

Right, are we all back in the room? Gooooood.

I read in the Metro today that Kylie invited a stack of people to her Brits party at wank-fest Movida, but then snubbed them while she swanned around drinking some 35k cocktail in the VIP area. Erm, call me a bitch (and many have) but it just confirms what I’ve always thought*: Ms Minogue is a stuck up priss with negligible talent. Never mistake sticking power with ability. Especially when it sounds like a chipmunk sucking on helium.

Vitriol done.

*When the pint-sized popstrel was still dating Gallic walking erection Olivier Martinez (the first time round), my cousin and I were dining in Nobu when the two of them were shown to the table next to us. (Eyes were rapidly placed back in their sockets, while pointy fingers were slapped down reproachfully.) Kylie alternated between whining to the waiters and sending food back, and moody silence. Then she kicked off her shoes, wound herself around Martinez like a baby python and started whispering in his ear. I don’t give a fuck who she is: inappropriate behaviour at the dinner table is unacceptable. And so is acting like a clinging, whinging eejit of a girlfriend. No wonder he dumped her.

Later: Ladyshambles is heading straight to hell for that last comment. But quite frankly, my dear, she doesn’t give a damn.

Truth hurts, innit?