John Stoddart and Claire Rubinstein at the Sofitel Los Angeles at Beverly Hills yesterday
A whole array of guests are expected at the event and amongst them will be a bevvy of Brits including Lady Victoria Hervey and occasional contributor to The Steeple Times, Claire Rubinstein. Liverpool born Stoddart, no doubt dressed to the nines and surrounded by American beauties, will showcase the finest of his images of Hollywood greats and amongst those on display will be Daniel Craig, Anthony Hopkins, Martin Scorsese, Tilda Swinton and Catherine Zeta-Jones.
The exhibition will remain on display at the hotel for several months and part of the proceeds from all works sold will be donated to the Caterina’s Club charity.
Loudmouth champagne swiller Dawn Ward once again fails to get permission to turn her vulgar home into a wedding venue
Marketing material for Dawn Ward’s tastelessly decorated home, Warford Hall, near Alderley Edge in Cheshire, boldly describes it as “the finest entertaining house ever conceived”. She’s failed to generate any interest in it since putting it on the market for the ridiculously ambitious sum of £12 million ($15.4 million, €14.4 million or درهم56.4 million) and has now, once again, failed to get planning permission to turn the building into a conference centre and banqueting venue for boot camps, functions and weddings.
Of why he scuppered Mr and Mrs Ward’s application as an “inappropriate development in the Green Belt”, planning inspector Jonathan Clarke remarked:
“I have found that it has not been satisfactorily demonstrated that the proposal would operate without causing substantial harm to the living conditions of occupiers of nearby dwellings. Therefore, the very special circumstances needed to justify the development do not exist”.
“Neighbours don’t like noise. I understand. It’s unbelievable. Fair enough (to complain) if you are local, but we are getting complaints as far as Tytherington. How it can affect people as far away as Tytherington I have not idea. It’s ludicrous”.
Later, her husband, former footballer Ashley Ward, added:
“In October 2015 I attended a meeting hosted by the Parish Council at which people were advised that ‘the only way we can stop this application is to ensure we send as many written complaints as possible and beat the number of 60 plus that we managed to raise for the previous owner’s application’”.
“An organised campaign was created with letters of objection even coming from people living completely out of the area and flyers distributed giving tips on how easiest to provide a complaint”.
“I am concerned about the motives for the campaigns against all Warford Hall applications and in particular that this one is prejudicing the facts of the application and the findings of the local authority experts; planning officers, environmental health and highways officers”.
Witty Fort Lauderdale based philanthropist Michael Bienes passes away
Philanthropist Michael Bienes sadly died of cancer on 5th April according to the Sun Sentinel.
New York born Mr Bienes, a multi-millionaire many times over until falling prey to Bernard Madoff’s crooked Ponzi scheme, was known for hosting lavish parties and supported everything from the Holy Cross Hospital in Broward County to the Royal Opera House in London. He was generous to a tee and known for his dry sense of humour and wit.
The 80-year old, whose accountancy firm, Avellino & Bienes was an early feeder fund of Bernard L. Madoff Securities, leaves a widow, Dianne. She told the Sun Sentinel:
“Michael was never a man who would take advantage of anyone simply because he was always afraid of doing anything wrong. He loved people and valued the relationships he cultivated”.
Michael Bienes will be missed by many in both America and Britain. We offer our condolences to his wife and family.
Twenty-four hours ago Arthur Collins was the toast of OK! magazine; he’s now on the run and a wanted man
Twenty-four hours ago, the Mail Online gushed about Ferne McCann and Arthur Collins, a couple most of our readers will never have heard of. Now, that article is gone and instead the press are focusing on the fact that Mr Collins is on the run in the wake of a police raid on his home.
Ferne McCann and Arthur Collins in happier timesA mugshot of Arthur Collins issued by the Metropolitan Police and an image of him captured on CCTV at Mangle, the Dalston Club where he is alleged to have been involved in an acid attack
“Bad boy Arthur”, as The Sun today refer to the 25-year old scaffolder, is alleged to have been involved in an acid attack in a London club on Sunday in which sixteen people were injured. Police have issued an arrest warrant for Collins and when they visited his home, they discovered cannabis plants, cultivation equipment and illegal firearms.
OK! magazine feature an interview with the couple in their current edition. In it, Miss McCann, a “reality television star”, referenced how she and Collins were planning on moving in together and commented:
“We spend every night together anyway. Moving in is definitely the next step. And I know that seems a bit rushed, but when you know, you know”.
“Arthur is moving in the day after I get the keys! I get them on May 5th, he’ll move in on May 6th. So I just need 24 hours to settle in and put my stuff down”.
Such an occurrence now seems highly unlikely and here, indeed, is an example that never has the adage “what a difference a day makes” been truer.
A 20-question interview with contemporary artist Alexander Newley
The Steeple Times shares “wit and wisdom”. What’s your guiding force?
Eros, anger, anxiety, love – in perfect and contradictory admixture.
“Don’t get even, get medieval” is, in our humble opinion, a great motto. What’s yours?
When fate raises its sword to make you tremble, go forth into it and you will find bliss.
Kerry Katona was considered unacceptable in 2007. Who or what is unacceptable in 2017?
Who’s that? Cancer/Steve Bannon – basically the same thing…
Tony Blair misses being Prime Minister. What do you miss most in your life?
No missing – still on target.
What might you swap all your wealth for?
I have no material wealth. Health and creativity is ALL, although I’d like some new drapes in the kitchen.
Donald Trump was once a case of: “If you owe the bank a thousand, they close you down; but if you owe the bank a billion, you own the bank”. What’s your view on the state of the financial system?
The dollar rocketed when Trump came in. Need we say more?
What phrase or word do you most loathe?
“The UK” delivered in a peppy, north London accent and “Your call is very important to us, please stay on the line…”
In the UK, some people consider charity to “begin at home”. What’s your view and what causes do you personally support?
I couldn’t agree more. Everything is a spiral: work from the centre out. I have just raised a fair bit for the St. Martin-in-the-Fields homeless charity through the auction of my paintings.
The judge in Law Abiding Citizen states: “I can pretty much do whatever I want” before being blown up whilst answering her mobile phone. What’s your view on the appropriate use of such devices?
A necessary evil. Can you imagine life before? The carousel goes faster and faster and we have to find a way to stay on it. That said, the counter-revolution: silence, mindfulness, not giving a fig is pretty good, too.
Portraits of Dominick Dunne (1925 – 2009) and Sir Nigel Hawthorne CBE (1929 – 2001) by Alexander Newley
If you could fill a carriage on The Orient Express, who would be your fellow passengers?
Shakespeare (of course), Oscar (of course), Churchill (large brandy in hand), Chaplin (tearing tickets), my father (Anthony Newley), Sheela (my love), Ava (my daughter), Freud x2 (grandfather and grandson) and the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders (for perfect Surrealism).
If you were unfortunate enough to end up on death row, what would be your last meal and where would you eat it?
A tuna melt with ketchup, on the undercliff in Lyme Regis, watching the sun sink on a balmy summer’s eve.
What time is it acceptable to consume the first drink of the day?
10:45am (if it be a mixture of German dessert wine and seltzer).
A Negroni, a martini or a cup of tea?
Tea please, milk, no sugar (although I want the sugar).
Whose parties do you enjoy the most and why?
I rarely enjoy them because I don’t go to enough, and you have to invest in the social whirl before it pays back. I’m still working on that—but I did have a pretty good time at Hugh Hefner’s once.
Who is the most positive person you know?
Myself, although periodically encumbered by massive humbug.
What’s your most guilty pleasure?
The occasional bout of self-love.
If a tattoo were to sum you up, what would it be of?
A minotaur rampart on a bed of roses.
If you were a car, what marque would you be?
A prototype Isotta Fraschini. Only two were made and one crashed at very high speed.
Cilla Black presented Surprise, Surprise. Tell us the most surprising thing about you.
I can identify almost anyone from the back; the habit of a portraitist.
What’s currently sitting on your mantelpiece?
Two vases of anemonies, one tall one short.
Alexander Newley is a contemporary artist. His subjects have numbered Steven Berkoff, Christopher Reeve, Oliver Stone, Gore Vidal and Billy Wilder and his work features in the permanent collections of the National Portrait Gallery at the Smithsonian in Washington, DC and at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.
Insensitive showoffs wreak havoc in Parliament Square with their gaudy supercars; they claimed to be honouring the dead and injured of the Westminster attack but simply caused annoyance
Though five people died and around fifty others were injured as a result of Khalid Masood smashing his rented 4×4 into them on Westminster Bridge on 22nd March, a group of insensitive showoffs decided it would be appropriate to cause gridlock with their gaudy supercars in Parliament Square on Sunday.
“Following recent attacks in Westminster which cost the lives of innocent civilians as well as PC Keith Palmer, we felt it was only right to pay our condolences and show our love by standing united to oppose the atrocious acts of violence”.
“We felt that being British Muslims with a platform, we wanted to speak up against such acts and bring people of all race and religion together as a symbol of peace, love and unity”.
The police felt quite differently about their presence and told these ridiculous vulgarians to swiftly to move on.
Clangers overheard and snippets spotted by readers of ‘The Steeple Times’
Candy Knockers
At Scalini in Knightsbridge, two brash housebuilders from Essex sat devouring veal chops. One referenced his idols and observed: “The Candy brothers have a brilliant setup. They are like the Peter Stringfellows of property”. The other looked puzzled but the first continued: “They’ve got properties that sell as well as Katie Price’s knockers. What assets! Value for money? I don’t know. But, impressive? Hell yeah!” Try telling that to Mark Holyoake.
You’ve Got That Sinking Feeling
The same duo moved on to talking about their respective staff. The louder of the two offered his thoughts: “I’m so proud of Ray. He’s like the Titanic. He’s like the best ship in the world. Not because it sank but because it was the best ship in the world”. The other opined: “It still f**king sank and Ray will still f**king sink too”. All that was needed next was for My Heart Will Go On to play.
Housing the Godly
Two priests were spotted drinking Bloody Marys at the bar at PJ’s on Fulham Road. The first remarked: “I never quite manage to get given houses”. The second answered: “Shocking, isn’t it? I look through Country Life each week and I think: ‘All I get given each week is Communion wine’”.
Partying with a 4×4
A group of ladies gathered in the garden at Chiltern Firehouse after a hard day’s shopping in Selfridges. As they discussed an impending party an absent ‘friend’ was due to host, one Pucci clad creature shared her thoughts. She commented: “It’s not a party. They’re telling porkie pies. They’re just having it to show off that new Range Rover they’ve just bought. I bet they’ll block the bloody drive with it”. Miaow!
An Iggy Hangover
“My worst hangover was when I drank three bottles of champagne” remarked a passenger on the 14 bus. “Why?” asked her friend. “Because I had to take three days off work and because I thought I was Iggy Pop for two of them”.
Submit comments you hear to[email protected]. We publish amusing and ridiculous chatter we receive and sometimes we change names and locations to protect the identities of the vain and the vacuous.
Butler-turned-blabbermouth Paul Burrell sinks to a new low; he should retreat to Siberia and live out his days privately
Cat-like Paul Burrell again and again reinvents himself. Somehow, in spite of already having undeservedly exhausted more than nine lives, this ghastly individual is back in the press and this time he’s milking the story of his marriage to a corporate lawyer he met on a train.
“Diana’s rock”, as the traitorous butler-turned-blabbermouth likes to call himself, chose not to keep his wedding to Graham Cooper private but instead bared the story of his union with his “soulmate” to various media outlets.
Mr Burrell, in spite of being born in Derbyshire wore a kilt to the ceremony (in a bizarre pattern of tartan he’d, of course, commissioned himself in 2006) at the Linthwaite House Hotel in the Lake District and in comments to the Mail Online remarked:
“There’s no more hiding my unbridled happiness now. Life is about being true to who you are and, for the first time ever, I’m able to stand proudly beside my husband and say: ‘This is who I am’”.
Burrell also told the newspaper of how he walked into the ceremony to Barbara Streisand’s Some Enchanted Evening and “danced out of [it] to Kylie Minogue’s Better the Devil You Know” and disrespectfully remarked on references to his late employer, Diana, Princess of Wales, being made during the ceremony. He again showed himself to be a master of the kiss-and-tell and even, in case anyone cared, shared the menu for his “three course wedding dinner”. It consisted of: “A starter of ham hock terrine, egg and chipped potatoes followed by pot-roasted breast of Goosnargh chicken served with Pommes Anna and wild mushroom fricassee and finished with a dessert of apple Tarte Tatin with a Calvados caramel and vanilla ice cream”.
An anything but credible individual according to Lord Justice Scott Baker, Burrell – a man prone to crying on a whim – was severely criticised by Princes William and Harry in 2003. In a statement, at the time, they remarked:
“We cannot believe that Paul who was entrusted with so much could abuse his position in such a cold and overt betrayal”.
“It is not only deeply painful for the two of us but also for everyone else affected and it would mortify our mother if she were alive today and, if we might say so, we feel we are more able to speak for our mother than Paul”.
“We ask Paul please to bring these revelations to an end”.
Burrell plainly paid no attention to this request and now, fourteen years later, it is again time to urge this self-serving toad to do the decent thing: May Paul Burrell please stop peddling tat and may he please retreat to Siberia.
Clangers overheard and snippets spotted by readers of ‘The Steeple Times’
Ferry & Yah
A PR maven at the Chiltern Firehouse loudly spoke into her mobile. She speedily told the person at the other end of the line: “Bryan Ferry is amazing. Yah. Super yah… I saw his son in 5 Hertford Street. That was a triple yah… Becks and I had such a laugh coming up in the car. That was a yah, a cheers and yah… I didn’t try and talk to Bryan Ferry’s son. That wouldn’t be a yah”. She put the phone down, quaffed her cocktail and dialled her next yah-ing victim.
Milton to Walton
At the bar of The Enterprise in Walton Street, Chelsea, a chubby woman from the Midlands summoned a waitress. She exclaimed: “I want a table now. Outside. This is war. I want one now. Who do those bloody people sat there think they are? We’ve come all the way from Milton Keynes”. Another customer mumbled: “We’d rather you go back there”.
Storming Doris
“What is it with these storms?” asked a middle-aged estate agent at the bar of the since closed restaurant La Brasserie in Brompton Road, SW3. His equally bright friend answered: “Storm Doris: I thought it was a terrorist incident”.
Blairing Blackpool
At lunch at Sexy Fish in Berkeley Square, W1, a pair of businessmen debated their worst ever mistakes. The winner? “I paid £1,500 to meet Tony Blair’s son for lunch once. What a waste. I wish I’d bought a flight to Blackpool instead”.
A Need for Pecorino
“Pecorino, I need some Pecorino”, remarked a woman with an expensive looking pram in a deli in Marylebone. An elderly gent tapped her on the shoulder and asked: “Who do you and your kid think you are? Wallace and Bloody Gromit?”
The Richness of Wholefoods
On Facebook, Matthew Cranwell posted: “When I see a rich bitch in Wholefoods, I pretend I need help and ask: ‘Excuse me, do you work here?’ Just to keep things real”.
Submit comments you hear to[email protected]. We publish amusing and ridiculous chatter we receive and sometimes we change names and locations to protect the identities of the vain and the vacuous.
Offered with an estimate of £24,000 to £28,000 ($30,100 to $35,200, €27,700 to €32,400 or درهم110,700 to درهم129,100)., the quirky landaulette hooded vehicle features a retractable roof, roof rack and taxi meter. It has a red interior and an 1842 cc engine.
The maroon and black vehicle was used in London before the Second World War and up until 1955, participated in the London to Brighton Historic Commercial Run in 1964 and then was left in a lock-up in Gravesend, Kent until the 1980s. Restored and returned to the road in 2003, the car is described as being in “presentable” condition.
