Calum Best's "coffee and conversation" shame

Chicken-strutting stud-boy, Calum Best, has disgraced himself and his glamorous, sex-addicted playboy image today, as the PCP exposes him as a "coffee and conversation kinda guy."

Our shock revelations follow a story in The Stun that claimed Best was a whoring sex-psycho who hoovered up grand lines of cocaine then screwed a non-stop parade of escort girls and movie stars like Lindsay Lohan.

However, the truth is far darker tale of scandal-free restraint. Though Best's aides claim he is a "drugged-up, lust-crazed bed romper", two of PCP's favourite Mayfair escorts, Bruna and Sylvia, have revealed a far sicker truth to Best's behvaiour.

They claimed to have met Best in Chinawhite nightclub, where he was sat in the VIP area doing the Times crossword. They persuaded him to join them for some fun in in the city's swanky Metropolitan Hotel. Having stripped off, strapped on and chopped up for some hot sex action, they were to be dissapointed: Best confessed to them that he was more of a "coffee and conversation kinda guy."

Rather than undress and snort a line of Bolivian marching powder, Best remained clothed and asked if the irrisistible hookers had any "fresh salad and Elderflower juice?"

Bruna and Sylvia soon booted out the disgraced 'playboy' and have not heard from him since.

Tags: Calum Best, Chinawhite, Lindsay Lohan, Times, Metropolitan Hotel

Opik to leave Irmia for “more exotic name”

Liberal Democrat MP, Lembit Opik, is to leave latest squeeze, Gabriela Irimia, for a girl with “an even more exotic name,” according to an insider.

Having hooked up with the z-list Transylvanian from failed novelty pop act, the Cheeky Girls, just two weeks after splitting with fiancé, weather girl Sian Lloyd, it is said that Opik is craving an even more exotic name to appear in gossip columns with.

“Lembit thinks that Irimia sounds too ‘Mongolian hoards’,” says a friend. “He’s more into a spacey kind of vibe now – something like ‘Ursula X150’ would be a perfect name to date.”

Opik split from weather girl fiancé, Sian Lloyd, two weeks ago, as she refused to change her name to Streets of Sian Fran Cisco. Lloyd said at the time: “Lembit insists on having a partner whose name sounds like a 70s TV show starring a young Michael Douglas and improbably-nosed Karl Malden. But I didn’t want to change my name.”

Dalek babe's Polonium boon

An immigrant in a dead-end job today snatched a chance of a better life - thanks to deadly poison, Polonium 210, yo.

Raven-haired man magnet, Ela Malek, was up to her East European elbows in dead fish and dirty dishes at Itsu, the restaurant at the centre of the London radiation scare. As a poorly paid waitress, the snake-hipped seductress harnessed media interest in the Polonium scare to get sexy pictures in national tabloids like the Sun.

'Radiating' sex appeal, the so-called toxic stunna served up a well-honed pitch designed to appeal to the British tabloid market. The busty brunette with Bond-girl looks said: "I feel like I'm caught in the middle of some mad spy movie."

Malek, the only daughter of Davros the Dalek, also discovered a rash on her perfect ten body around the time of the scare. She didn't say where the rash was or whether the STD clinic medicince has cleared it up, but has sworn to get rid of it before any casting couch calls.

Ordinary person visits Malawi, doesn't get any publicity

An ordinary Scottish woman who visited Malawi this month in bid to generate personal publicity, has today admitted spectacular failure.

Jean McCracken, a 50-year old widower and primary school teacher, had followed in the footsteps of celebrities who have made the PR pilgrimage to the poverty-stricken African country in a bid to start a media frenzy. However, the country, portrayed as a media hotspot, has failed to live up to the hype. As a result, Jean has spent weeks waiting for a press reporter and photograher swarm that has never appeared.

Speaking from an orphanage, where volunteer worker Jean was doing one of a clutch of daily tasks as volunteer, she said: "Malawi has been all over the media in the past month as one of the world's top destinations to go to get publicity, but so far I've had nothing. Evey day I see celebrities advertising it as easily the best place to raise their profile and gain public sympathy - people like Madonna, Brangelina, and Melinda Messenger. The attention that offers them untold fulfillment was meant to be within my reach. Well the PR around that country is nothing more than hype - I've been here a week and not done a single photocall. "

The Pop Culture Phrasebook caught up with leading publicist, Max Cliff, to offer Jean advice on how to turn this crushing negative into a positive. Max said: "How much are you paying?"

Meanwhile, non-celebrity Jean is stranded in a publicity vacuum. The non-celebrity is forced to busy herself with mundane, achingly meaningful tasks such as teaching orphans critical life skills and vital, basic educational skills. Rather than publicity, she has had to make do with little more than love, affection and appreciation and the empty feeling that comes from genuinely helping a suffering people.

Meanwhile, every day Jean remains tortured by the memory of the media frenzies in the country around celebrities like Madonna. The reptilian, ego-on-skeletal legs generated worldwide media coverage in a massive Malawian PR stunt. On her recent baby shopping trip, the singer attended a string of press-friendly photocalls in various, tribal villages. This included reading her failed children's book in English to Chichewa-speaking Aids orphans, and doing sexed-up dance routines from her latest world tour to children under the age of sexual consent, and her famous 'cruxifiction' routine, to staunchly Christian villagers.

Tags: celebrity, Madonna, Melinda Messenger, Brangelina

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"I tried to save the world but forgot to save myself" - David Hasselhoff (We're currently being quoted £150,000 for one day of the Hoff's time - frankly I'd rather sit on a chainsaw than hire that leathery has- been who has jumped the shark for the umpteenth time)

Jedis ask for human rights, don't think Dark Side poses threat - today's Sun Online, either I missed in the print edition or it's online only (?????)

Kevin Federline wants to get his super-talented mitts on this lot - thanks Popjustice

Another day, another Lucy Pinder shoot

Working in consumer PR is really hard. Take today for instance. We had to get up, and hang out all day with sexy cover babe, Lucy Pinder, again. Yes, again. Spending time with her in the cab, at photoshoots, and hanging out with her at various lads mags. It's just not fair. Why can't we do interesting things like accounting or fixing computers?

Lucy is so hot that, apparently, she nearly turned a gay colleague of mine straight. Easy tiger. She also had the guys at Loaded, Maxim, Ice and new online mag Monkey going gaga.

Not only does she help sell more lads mags than any other girl nowadays (5-9% uplift) - A-list stars included - but she's an absolute joy to work with. She was even kind enough to record a video message (see grab, left) for my sister's kid, a lads mag/ueber babe fanatic .

I'm going to turn into a kind PR stalker by factoring Miss Pinder into every single client recommendation from now on. "You're launching a new product? Use Lucy." "You need a venue? Pick anywhere - just put Lucy in it." "You need a cab across town? Why not get Lucy to keep you company? I'll chaperone." She's great. And she's doing good things for my clients, too.

Babyshambles guitarist joins dad?

Dad did the clan proud with arguably his best gig on Saturday night, his 32nd year at the Glasgow Pavillion theatre.

"Steak and Kidney" - as he's known north of the border - played to houses Thursday through Saturday packed mainly with old fans but there were some news ones too. There were swathes of the (mainly) over forties (and even a 90-year old lady!) that have grown up with my dad since he started performing at 13 years old. It may have been an older audience than a Kings of Leon gig, but age never stopped me from flirting. Of course I'm sworn to secrecy on this front.

But there was also young totty too. My nephew, Ryan, and I were chatted up in the bar before the show by a young gaggle of gallus Glasgow gals who spotted the family resemblance. Of course, I'm engaged so I couldn't participate in la chasse. However I did help my nephew out with some killer chat up lines, including this little beauty: "Would you like a stalker, gorgeous?"


My gig pics are here at my Phanfare album, and their my finest to date. They're my only ones to date and that is one of the key reasons for their triumph over my previous efforts.

As for the gig itself, this is my first gig review so I imagine it will be excellent. At least in comparison to my previous efforts, that is. However, as I've just used the same gag twice in quick succession, I don't hold out much hope for the bugger. But here goes - I advise you to prceed at extreme caution.

I've got to start with the lighting. It was good. At this point i have to say that I'm not sure this review is going well, but I'd better press on or it'll take all day. The multi-coloured star cloth and nebulae-coloured lights and floating galaxy dust (which may have been stage smoke) reminded me of Juan Atkins' last Model 500 - Deep Space album artwork - the Detroit spacey techno crowd would have loved it.

Any review should mention the band - and I'm not one for rebellion; at this point, I need all the guidance I can get. According to showbiz jargon, Legend - as the band is called - was 'tight'. I won't bore you with individual performances but it is worth mentioning the somewhat cadaverous guitarist, Frankie. Looking like he should have been on stage with Babyshambles, it seemed the only thing keeping Frankie alive on stage were regular shocks from a frayed amp lead.

Altogether more wholesome was the surprise addition of the 50-strong Glasgow Phoenix Choir. Arriving on stage at the end, they really beefed up the sound and ramped up the atmosphere. Their support for the rousing, if not parochial, 'Scotland Forever' finalé had the hairs standing up on my neck, and even on the chin of the old dear in front of me. I couldn't stop making Herr Lipp gags about a giant "Queer" on stage but no-one seemed to laugh.

Of course the show isn't necessarily my kind of music or my scene - far from it, in fact. But that's the thing - it's a family thing. I'd even go and watch my nephews in their various school plays - if they weren't such talentless wretches. But I joke - and the truth is that the old man certainly knows how to entertain. I was absolutely riveted by the show .and dad's voice was better than ever, fragile with emotion at times which reminded me a bit Johnny Cash on the stunning 'Hurt'. Where as my voice sounds like the wails of a dog that's just been cornered by a gang of starving north Koreans. Or even a gang of drunken Scots that can't be bothered to find the nearest dep fried Mars bar.

Anyway, this whole review seems to have gone right off the rails, so perhaps I'll just rush straight on to the plugs. What kind of PR would I be if I didn't slap some plugs onto this little post? So, 1-2 loyal readers, if you're looking for a gift for that special someone this Xmas, forget about whizzy gadgets, forget about Tiffany jewellry, forget about cool clothes; instead, why not plum for some of the following great gifts - a percentage of every one sold goes into my old man's pocket, whencefrom I can attempt to pinch it, and in return buy you a free drink. And - hence - the karmic circle is complete. Anyway, you can choose from an autobiography, or one of two new albums, and a DVD (I think). Each CD sale will help add to his 15 million album sales. What do you mean 'iTunes'? What is an 'iTunes'?

If however, you agree with this venomous bunch's view that big Syd is actually Scotland's worst singer, you many want to buy one of his products anyway - for your enemy. Ah, ever the salesmen, eh? Perhaps it's better if I simply give this whole freakish jig up and get the hell away from this whole way-led, cock-eyed post fast, like some crazed, febrile, naked, dribbling yahoo. Either that, or just take Snagglepuss' advice and exit, stage left.

Celebrity dada report

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Honey, I shrunk the Didds!

Finally we have evidence that Hollywood shrink fiend, Rick Moranis, has started shrinking hip hop's A-list. As you can see in the picture, left, twisted Moranis has shrunk the Godfather of bling himself, P Diddy, to under 2 feet tall.

Rick you bastard! Where will your crazy shrinking binge end? Can you please not shrink hip hop's blingest?

What's the problem here, Rik? Wasn't waiting for Dozer the Traveler enough for you? Singing country music doesn't upset enough people you gotta upset some more? You gotta bring a rap giant down to knee height?

Well listen buddy, no thanks to you we're gonna solve this diddy Diddy problem. Yeah. We've called in wonder woman herself to the rescue: selfish careerist Madonna. If anyone can build that Diddy up into a mountain of a man who no-one in the world wil fail to notice, it's her.

Indeed, by putting mini-Diddy into care with the Juicy Couture-clad living cadaver, we can practically guarantee that he'll never want for attention again. Of course, it won't be the normal, loving, attentive care that any normal kid'll receive. No way, Slick - it's far better than that. It's a paparrazzi-scrum-every-day, 24-7-media-coverage, looked-after-by-a-team-of-yes-men kind of attention.

So shrink away, Moranis, we got the solution locked down.


Thanks to Perez Hilton for the image.