We're going through the change, all will be revealed next week, but this site is going to have a makeover, so if you have any suggestions on how or what you would like to change or include, or completely scrape from this site, mail me : retro@insiders.co.uk

Well, as usual, we've had our fair share of complaints this week, but as you would of gathered by now, it's all taken with a pinch of salt, it's all tongue in-cheek, we tease, we provoke, we're girls that want to have fun, yes girls that want to have fun!

D I R T Y O L D M A N . . . . .
With all the talk of ‘evil perverts’ this summer, you’d think some of them would lock themselves away in their loft conversions and play ‘how did that get up there?’ with nothing more than a greased up toilet tube and a bag of conkers.

But no, it seems as if this week another ‘Uncle Fester’ is out on the loose.
And which poor and helpless dumb pop animal is he after this time? Well, it’s good old Billie Piper. And his name?. None other than T.V’s ‘Two from the Top and One from the Bottom‘ Richard Whiteley.

Yep, as if poor old Billie hasn’t had a tough enough year already, what with that sudden collapse in a night club (yes, her kidneys were infected…with cocaine) and of course her terrible ‘love split’ with that ‘bog eyed water rat’ Richie from Five.

Last night Billie telephoned me direct from her gruelling tour of the ‘South East’.
Speaking exclusively from her hotel room in Norwich, she told me…….

‘Apparently the guy from Countdown fancies me. I’m a lucky girl!.’

No, you’re not Billie, because last night I went ‘under cover’ and followed old Whitely back to his Spanish Villa (where he now lives with his Spanish wife ‘Peedra Fillia’). Once I’d got access to his bedroom window, I managed to see what really goes on behind his smug ‘I love to lick O.A.P’s faces’ persona.
Now, I don’t want to say too much, but he definitely played a rather sinister version of his hit T.V show ‘Countdown.’ (Let’s just say it does rhyme with the words ‘Count’ and ‘Down’, but is a very different version indeed.)

So, there you have it Billie. I love you and want you to be safe and carry on bringing my grandfather’s blood pressure to the boil. (Every time you’re on the telly he has a ‘stroke’.) As for you Whiteley, there’s a seven letter word for you which starts with a consonant – P.


S H O C K E D . . .
This next story was always going to be as predictable as Cliff Richard being a virgin, and Elton John being gay.

Yep, just as expected last week, Robbie ‘two plums and a twig’ Williams and Geri ‘Ms Piggy’ Halliwell have suddenly ‘split’. Eye witnesses in Spain tell me it happened at exactly 6.59 last Sunday, just as it was announced that ‘Rock DJ’ had hit the top of the British charts.

Geri was left stunned (she’d obviously mis-heard Robbie when he said he needed a ‘Publicity Stunt’) and by the time he’d finished covering her baps in mayonnaise (no, you dirty monkeys, they were making some sandwiches for the journey home), she was crying like a ‘ vicar in a bonfire.’

Robbie on the other hand was quickly out on the town with some of the biggest names in panto. (He had been due to party the night away with some of the biggest names in ‘Porto’, but due to a spelling error, he ended up hitting the high spots with Jimmy Cranky and Frank Bruno.)

This was the end of what had been a very happy and blissful week for the ex-golden couple in pop. They seemed to have been in the first pangs of love.

On Monday night Robbie got down on one knee and gave Geri a red ring, and two days later she returned the favour by giving him a golden shower…..for his new mansion.

And yesterday they were supposed to be celebrating Geri’s 28th birthday, until Robbie went ‘AWOL’ and left their secret love nest.

If only Geri had spoken to good old Posh before she left, she could have saved herself from all the humiliation. Posh spoke to me yesterday (via the wonders of Tele text), and told any sad freak that was reading : ‘If Robbie and Geri really are happy then I’m happy, but I’m always sceptical of people starting a new relationship the week their new record comes out.’

I think Posh has hit the nail on the head. Remember when Mary and Joseph cashed in on their stroke of luck with Baby Jesus, by releasing their triple album: ‘The Lord Giveth : We Taketh’ on Virgin records? Not only were they blessed with having the Lord’s son, but also by being able to find somewhere for Mary to give birth, seeing as Bethlehem is always rammed on Christmas Eve.


A R R Y O L E . . .
I’ve seen some pop stars making big bucks from advertising in my time. (Michael Jackson was so popular in 1983, that he even stooped so low as to advertise suntan lotion and raked in a cool £1 million). But this week it’s been announced that Britney Spears is to make a further £5 million from advertising Macdonalds, Tommy Hilfiger, Polaroid and some ‘poofs shampoo’. Not a bad little earner is it readers?

As other B-list celebs try in vain to emulate her - (Kylie Minogue is currently doing a poster campaign for ASDA) - Britney still has a ‘nice little earner’ burning away year after year. All she has to do to promote Macdonalds, is to record a CD with those annoying freaks N’ Sync which will be handed out in every one of their restaurants in America. Easy money. (What are the chances of the CD actually tasting better than their new Egg McMuffins?)

However, her promotional work for ‘Clairol Herbal Essences’ shampoo has already caused great controversy in America’s mid West. During her recent tour Britney threw out free shampoo samples into the crowd. Not only did she innocently blind fifteen 10 year olds in the front row, (at least they got their hair clean) but she also attracted a massive Rasta following due to her accompanying shampoo anthem - ‘I’ve got the urge to go herbal’.

And that’s not all. Her new found fans will also be able to sample even more Britney goodies. There’s the Britney belly button kit (Kinky) jeans, bags, bubble gum, candles and T-shirts. All of which are bound to sell a lot better than the Gary Barlow eyeliner remover kit, which is still available at some selected branches of Woolworths.


H A P P Y X M A S . . .
You’ve got to feel for that young ‘naughty boy’ of rap Eminem this Christmas.

Whilst us Hills sit around drinking Strongbow from a single plastic cup and wondering what to put on the fire next (grandma or granddad?) Eninem, on the other hand is going to have to play Happy Families with a wife who tried to commit suicide, a mother who’s currently suing him for £7 million and a grandmother who’s described him as ‘vile and discussing’. It hardly sounds like the Partridge family does it?

But Eniney, if you do feel a bit lost this Chrimbo then you can always join me and my adopted family who’ll happily give you the Xmas of a life time. The closest you’ll get to a ‘Slim Shady’ is a special low fat ‘slim shandy’ which we get in every year for my massive aunt Beryl. And, seeing as you like ‘shootin and a lootin’ you can be in charge of the Christmas feast. You can ‘shoot’ the pigeons from the old church roof and then ‘loot’ the local primary school on the way home to bring us ‘more presents than we could ever imagine.’ (Although I’m still trying to work out what to do with last year’s seeing as I don’t really have much need for a book on GCSE Science or a school girl’s blazer).

So, there you have it M&M. If you need us, come to the ‘best house in the forest’ this December. As long as you don’t call my mother a ‘Mudder Fudder’ or shoot my two children ‘Moon Unit’ and ‘Sambo’ we’ll have the time of our lives


F A R C I N A T I N G . . .
Dear oh dear, just when I thought those lovely Boyzone boys were as kind and caring as Mother Teresa in a flood, up they pop with a barrage of self-criticism and blasphemy, the likes of which haven’t been seen since the time John the Baptist had too much sherry at Robin Hood’s stag night.

This week chief boozer and self proclaimed ‘world class brick layer’ Shane Lynch, laid into the place that made Boyzone the biggest gay sensation of all time. Yes, he tore apart that wonderful city of rabid peasants…Dublin.

This wouldn’t have been so bad had he not actually been in Dublin….on stage…and in front of 25,000 Dubliners, as he sang his heart out for the Irish Hopmeless Charity ‘Give Us Yer Feking Money’.

Shane stunned the Irish audience by suddenly announcing: "I’d never live back here again, purely because the people are ignorant - you are arseholes. I’ve never had a problem in Britain, but Irish people think they own you and can say what they like to you."

Needless to say, Shane didn’t get an encore. Instead he was pelted with potatoes and cans of dried fruit (which left the whole country facing yet another famine).

However, Shane is not the only member of Boyzone to ‘turn his back’ on his mother country. Ronan announced last week that Ireland was full of moaning bastards who are always ‘bitchy, begrudging and sad’. Lord, these thick coconuts definitely know how to shoot themselves in the foot! Any future golden Irish nest-eggs now seem definitely of the shamrock windows. (Ronan, I think the chances of you hosting any Irish beauty contests are now very much dead. But, then again most Irish women look like granddad Steptoe anyway, so maybe he knows what he’s doing).

This whole sorry episode reminds me of the time a young unemployed Irish man called Seamus O’ Shea, cocked up a job interview at an Irish gold mine when he failed to properly describe a miner’s lamp, because he’d ‘never worked nights’ in a mine before.


L U C K Y B A S T A R D . . .
Looks as if ‘wild man’ Liam Gallagher has finally found true love in the form of ‘Opps my tits are out again’ Nicole Appleton. No, this time it’s serious.

Yep, ‘Trampy’ telephoned me last night from his hotel room in the foot hills of Sweden (sorry, Swindon….), where his band Oasis (remember them?) are on tour.

He told me : ‘I am in a serious relationship with umm, that one who sings in All Saints………Nicole. I love her. It’s going very well. I don’t want everyone to know that on Thursday I Saw Courtney Love’s ‘Hole’, and on Friday night I saw some of Rachael Hunter. In fact I saw almost all of her! That’s how rumours start.’

Liam went on: ‘Sex has brought us closer together. Literally,’ and claims they ‘now want to look towards a bright future together.’ (Which roughly translates into ‘As long as she keeps on playing ‘Where’s Mr Pink eye now? I’ll love her.’)

However, judging by the school reports I got my hands on this week, I can reveal that he was as ‘thick as a bag of nails’ before he began singing as if he was choking on a ‘bag of nails.’ Yep, Liam left Manchester’s Barlow RC High School in 1989, but lets just say he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

One report tells of a ‘troublesome child" who had a ‘disappointing attitude’ and ‘wasted years of study’. His attendance was so bad he was ‘always ending up with an E.’ He was also ‘running wild, and getting into fights’.

Funny how some things never change, but somehow I doubt he’s worrying about his failed Metal work exam, especially when his hammer is happily banging away on every piece of old copper piping in the work place.