HEARTBREAKING WORDS: Victoria Beckham leaves parents emotional with a 14-word statement about Brooklyn, as the meaning behind it sparks curiosity
OPINION – VANESSA FELTZ: I challenge any parent to read this without feeling sympathy for her pain.
Vanessa Feltz reflects on a heartbreaking statement (Image: Getty)
Poor old Posh. We know she’s speaking from the heart when she says: “All we’ve ever tried to do is protect our children and love our children.” It’s the word ‘tried’ that touches us all. We, parents, set out with noble intentions. We know we’d lay down our lives for our kids. We certainly haemorrhage sleep, cash and leisure to give them what they need. We can’t guarantee their happiness, but we can flog ourselves to the bone in our unflagging efforts to bring them joy.
The rest of us may condemn Brooklyn for his ingratitude. Victoria is his mother. She loves him unconditionally and would rather see him flourishing than any million-pound cheque or designer dress collection on Earth.
Here’s a woman with no expiry date!
She was a nightmare to interview on the Big Breakfast bed in 1996. She was there to flog tickets to Evita but prickly, uncooperative and seven excruciating hours late, nonetheless. Plaudits to Madonna, 67, for announcing she will release her first record for seven years in July.
Spray-coated in silver fishnets, a corset, a skin-tight silver leather jacket and fingerless gloves, the 400 million record-selling superstar simultaneously defies convention, expectations, and anyone who suggests a woman’s sexuality has a shelf-life. Her self-belief and refusal to slip into elasticated-waist trousers and obscurity are inspirational.
She is stellar proof that drive, graft, grit, glamour and unswerving ambition have no expiry date. Go on, Material Girl!
Not my idea of a perfect date…
Kim Kardashian and new squeeze Lewis Hamilton are snapped disembarking a private plane before going out in LA ‘to buy rugs’.
I’m not sure about you, but rug shopping wouldn’t be number one on my ‘Fabulous Things to Do on a Date’ hit parade.
The rugs may be hand-woven from pedigree yak fur, hand-gathered by specialist hunters on unreachable mountain ranges, but the outing still sounds like something you could do on a wet Wednesday at Dunelm.
Does Lewis lack inspiration? Is Kim’s life so elevated a trip to flip through posh carpet remnants feels edgy? I shouldn’t be surprised. Often I’m queuing at Boots/waiting in A&E/pushing a trolley round a garden centre and a stranger will say in a shocked voice: “VanessaFeltz! What on earth are you doing here?”
The implication is clear. I’m ‘off the telly’ so I really ought to be somewhere much more glamorous. I’m too polite to answer: “What do you think I’m doing – filling a prescription/having a boil lanced/buying some begonias.”
It’s clear we all believe famous folk should be whooping it up in some glossy parallel universe, but even A-list billionaires need rugs, toilet roll and one of those things you wind the hose around.
Hilary deserves a medal! (Image: Getty)
She deserves a medal!
I’d like to nominate Jack Whitehall’s mother, Hilary, 64, for the ‘Most Unconditionally Loving Mum of the Year’ award. If it doesn’t exist, please invent it. This maternal paragon has proved she adores her mischievous son boundlessly.
Jack, 37, landed his mum in unadulterated fashion hell. He did what no daughter ever would – gave Hilary the wrong dress code for his ultra-smart society wedding to gorgeous Roxy Horner, 34, at exquisite 17th-century Cotswold pile Euridge Manor.
Lesser women would have banished their sons to Coventry, refused to attend the ceremony and fled to join Fergie in an obscure Alpine clinic.
Hillary is made of sterner and more forgiving stuff.
Mrs Whitehall senior took Jack’s brutal betrayal – putting your mum in danger of looking a right Charlie in at your own wedding is nothing less – squarely on the chin. She put on a brave face and found humour in what must have been abject sartorial panic. She simply said: “I got the wrong dress. The wedding invitation arrived with a completely different dress code on it. He said, ‘Sorry about that, Mumsy’.”
Imagine the flurry behind the scenes. The mother-of-the-groom’s dress has always been a fashionista’s nightmare. Posh got it woefully wrong (among other faux pas) at Brooklyn’s wedding, pitching up in what looked like an unstructured floaty nightie.
The late actress Raquel Welch was accused of deliberately stealing the limelight in a deeply plunging skin-tight black number bearing acres of unfettered cleavage at her son Damon’s wedding to Fred Trueman’s daughter Rebecca.
The mother-of-the-bride’s frock must do two jobs: not clash with the bridesmaids and not outdo the bride. The mother-of-the-groom’s gown must deliver a subtle, sophisticated impact without eclipsing the bride, her mother, the maid of honour or melding anaemically in with everyone else so she ends up mistaken for one of the guests.
Hilary had mere days to unearth the second most important dress of her life. Not for her the luxury of taking her time trying on options in delightful boutiques or commissioning a bespoke couture extravaganza from Vera Wang or Philippa Lepley.
She’ll never reveal her private thoughts as she ditched her original outfit, whirled about searching for something suitable and somehow continued to worship the son who put her through all the aggravation.
She succeeded splendidly, looking ravishing in head-turning full-length shimmering sequinned magenta, showcasing her cracking figure and tautly-toned arms, illuminated by a beaming smile directed at her naughty but beloved Jack.
Surely this won’t catch on…
Remember when chaps in the throes of passion used to recite the seven times table under their breath to prolong their sexual performance time?
The idea was that if a gentleman focused on something unsexy, he’d be able to ‘stay the course’ and bring his partner maximum satisfaction. Now we are told chewing gum is a terrific technique to extend a fellow’s staying power.
Chomping on the sticky stuff helped men with premature ejaculation last three times longer. Researchers believe gum chewing may boost serotonin levels in the brain. Goodness gracious? What would ‘Debrett’s Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners’ have to say about masticating while fornicating?
Of course, no partner wants a bout of rumpy-pumpy over before it has even begun, but surely the horrible sound of chewing, the sight of jaws churning, and the fear of a falling gobbet of gum ending up in your hair must be the ultimate passion killer?
Wasn’t expecting this…
Honesty, brutal or otherwise, is so rare it shocks us to the core. I ordered aubergine coated in polenta at a well-known Italian chain. The dish wasn’t simply disappointing; it was downright disgusting.
With typical British diffidence, I apologised to the waiter. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to taste very nice.”
Quick as a flash, he replied: “Yes, no one ever likes it. It’s an unpopular recipe. I’ll take it off your bill.”
You could have knocked me down with a proverbial. He admitted the concoction was revolting without any guff about the chef intending it to have that flavour.
Expecting an argument but getting none, I was temporarily at a loss. I tipped him, but awoke at 3am, wondering if he’d save time simply cutting to the chase and warning aubergine fanciers to think again.
