ISSUE 54 December 22nd 2000
		V I L L A G E P E R S O N . . . . Robbie Williams has stunned his fans this week by announcing he’s as gay as Elton John at one of Dale Winton’s cocktail parties. (I was unfortunate to be at one of his parties last week, and lucky enough to have Dale attach a pink ‘tail’ to my ‘cock’). Robbie made his show stopping revelation as he sang to his massive male following in Paris on Monday night. He told the throbbing masses: "So this is my coming out party - I am officially known as Roberta Williams". And to be honest readers, if I’d spent a romantic holiday with Geri Halliwell, I too would want a couple of months planting my anchor in ‘poo creek‘ rather than ’fanny island’. The vision of her spread-eagled with nothing but her ‘red snapper’ winking at me would turn even Tom Jones into a raving ‘bottom beater’ with in minutes. But what has really turned Robbie into a ‘bum trumpeter’? Is it a deep-rooted psychological condition, brought about by some childhood trauma? (No, I think it has more to do with sharing a hotel room with Mark Owen for five years to honest). Also readers, never ask a friend who you’ve always thought was a ‘left footer’ to ‘come out’ if you’re playing a family game of hide & seek at a party held in his honour. After an hour of us trying to find my dear Portuguese friend ‘Boo Boo’ I announced: "Come out Boo Boo" and he did. He told my whole family he was a closet homosexual, and had been having a passionate affair with my brother for fifteen years. BEN