The Second Serve // Lick And Grip

Clearly there’s no hard feelings between Peter Andre and Rebekah Vardy after her historic kiss’n’tell revelations about the size of his manhood got a fresh airing recently.

At a press evening for his star turn in Grease in the West End, Pete took to greeting assorted media and showbiz pals at an aftershow soirée, acting as a canapé server, offering them a tray of chipolatas as they entered.

Australia got a new prime minister last week, and they’ll no doubt be glad to have replaced Scott Morrison (star of an infamous rumour that he once shat his pants in a branch of McDonald’s in the Sydney suburb of Engadine) with someone who comes without any lurid baggage.

Just kidding! New PM Anthony Albanese was pictured a couple of years ago exiting a notorious massage parlour in Marrickville, the inner-west Sydney suburb where he was the local representative.

Photos made their way to News Corp tabloids but were never published. The word is that Albo’s then-wife came out to bat for him, insisting it was a legitimate remedial massage shop and she’d bought him a gift card for it.

In a surprise happy ending for Albo, the rumours never resurfaced during his campaign and are now only spoken about as newsroom gossip. The sole reference to it in the media was a joke on panel show Have You Been Paying Attention? last Monday – but even then the gag was excised from Channel 10’s on-demand service the morning after…

In a sea of scandals of various severities, it’s kind of refreshing to hear about a Tory stalwart just being a plain old weirdo.

Word reaches us from the upper echelons of Establishment tennis that Sir Desmond Swayne MP has a peculiar on-court habit. Whether he does it as a psychological ploy to confuse his opponents, or whether he has some issue regulating his salt levels, we don’t know.

But we’re told that in-between points he likes to lick to grip of his racquet.

P writes:
“Just in case you’ve not had enough of celeb bogs, Leonardo di Caprio has a stainless steel urinal in his ensuite bathroom.

“Palm Springs’ tourist board invited a group of British tabloid journalists to enjoy the culture of the desert city for travel features a few years back. It was the anniversary of Frank Sinatra’s death or something and they hoped for some thoughtful eulogies of Ol’ Blue Eyes. Instead we persuaded di Caprio’s realtor to give us a guided tour of his recently refurbished bungalow.

“The realtor was delighted for us to take photos throughout the property. The only verboten item was the urinal, which was strictly off limits.

“I tried to find evidence to back up my claim as obviously I don’t have the pics of the urinal itself. I looked up the property and fans can now rent it out. Pretty much the only thing that the online pics don’t show is the urinal itself, which again suggests there’s some kind of stigma attached to it. You can make it out in the ground plan, though, in the master en suite next to the loo.

“Also, I found his lube under the bed…”

In light of the story of Millie Bobby Brown erupting at production crew when the fire alarm went off, ruining her shot – it seems she’s not the only artiste who’d rather get a good shot in the face of fire.

The filming of Ridley Scott’s upcoming Napoleon was apparently quite chaotic, with plenty of grumbling from disgruntled background artists and camera crews alike. One scene required a barn to be burned down and lots of the background and stunts were all kept in there for an uncomfortably long time before the doors were opened.

When an AD on an open walkie-talkie told Ridley that people were starting to get worried, he was heard to reply “Fuck ’em. Finish the shot.”

Which became the catchphrase for the rest of the production.

It was very sad to hear about the death of Fletch from Depeche Mode this weekend, but it’s a miracle any of those boys lasted as long as they did.

Someone who worked on one of their stadium tours remembers Dave Gahan being a particularly odd sight. He would arrive in his own limo, “absolutely fucked” and unable to stand. The tour doctor would then inject him with something, he’d spring to life, go on stage and do the gig. Then he’d come off, whatever it was would wear off and – fucked once more – would be folded back into his limo.

Last week saw audio quizzes on the themes of Tarantino, Japanese Cover Versions and Books And Literature. This week sees another five rounds: 50 songs sliced thin and stacked up in a curious order, for you to pull apart.

You get a point for every song title you identify, and a point for every artist too. Or give yourself ten points. Or a hundred. Who cares? They count for absolutely piss all IRL.

Monday’s theme: Sexy Songs

[Play it here]

Top Gun 2 as an allegory of fading US power
[Read on FT]

Dua Lipa + Calvin Harris = the sound of summer
[Listen on Spotify]

How do you keep your Insta account when you are an Only Fans star?
[Read on Rolling Stone]

Inside the life of Silicon Valley’s private chefs
[Read on Insider]