Julia Jingle: Pregnancy Haiku

Julia Preggers
The key is sep'rate bedrooms
Jules, where is the love?

No quirky romance?
No big laugh at smug hero?
Pretty Woman II?

Watch Mommie Dearest
No more buns in the oven
Chuck serious roles

Diapers are stinky
Say, "I want the fairy tale"
"Indefinitely."

Come back to romance
Make out with a big rich turd
Twenty-five million...

Damonetics: a bible verse

"How do you like them apples?"

--Good Will Hunting: IX

So, children, when you see them lying in your yard, be they Granny Smith, MacIntosh or those wormy yellow ones, ask yourself--before you chuck them at your bitchy neighbor's window--how do you like them? That is what any good Damoneticist would do.

Rosie Disses The Donald Haiku

Pageant red hairball
Rosie "doesn't enjoy him"
Says, "you're fired, butt munch!"

Now The View is fun
Sugar, spice, nasty and nice
You kick that Donald!

Damonetics: a religion based on the history-changing works of Matt Damon

Today’s Proverb

After school and chores, a sweet girl of sixteen went for a nice walk down a paved road—since that’s what teenagers do. She sang to herself and moved happily until her path came to a dead end. An enormous mansion loomed ahead and she gasped. It was like her dream Barbie house! The windows sparkled with candle light, flowers bloomed in window boxes and a tended lawn surrounded the impressive structure. This was way better than her house on Sadsack Lane.

Just as she was about to turn around, the door to the mansion opened and He appeared. Rainbow colors shimmered in the man's aura and His well-sculpted body was evident as He flexed his calves. Unlike most, He had time to work out; His work depended on it. Under gleaming golden hair that covered a prematurely lined brow (the only imperfection due to not getting a Botox appointment in time), His eyes danced with sardonic amusement. What a stupid girl to get so lost, He thought. Her journey came to him in a vision, made possible by some Grade-A Thai stick.

“Who are you?” the girl asked, pulling on her braids, which were so Melissa Gilbert in Little House on the Prairie.

“I have many names,” He said, securing the belt on his robe. Jail time was steep for those revealing bounty to youth and he was more moral than Mary Tyler Moore-al.

“I’m not into modern technology like iPods and cell phones. But how can I have a mansion like yours?” the girl asked.

“You must follow the way. And make buckets of money.”

“Why do I need money if I have the way?”

A silence permeated the air. She got nervous as she watched His eyes cloud. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Silly rabbit, you must stop confusing the matter with such complicated questions. Simplicity is best.” With that, He took out a comb from the pocket of his silk robe and worked his hair into an even more brilliant sheen. “How does it look?” Angling his head, He raised an eyebrow in question.

So inspired, the girl’s young bosom heaved. “It looks fabulous.” With that, she turned and skipped all the way home.

Moral of the story: When things become too difficult, follow the law of Damonetics and worry about your hair.

Star Sighting

11/16/06--11:20 p.m., somewhere north of Houston Street: After Date #2 with Very Nice Person, I rode the elevator home with beautiful and perky Joyce DeWitt. I didn't try to engage her in conversation (though she did tell me once she was about to "pig out on brownies"), plus she looked tired. Also, I was too preoccupied with fantasies of eating the peppermint chocolate bars in my fridge.

Happy Birthday!

Today is important because it’s Jon Tenney’s birthday. Forty-five years ago, the heavens parted and God pointed his finger downward. “Behold, Jon, and heed the word of the Lord,” He bellowed. “After graduating from Vassar, thou shalt dazzle New York theater crowds in The Heiress and The Substance of Fire. Heretofore, most excellent TV shows like Equal Justice and The Closer will showcase your Me-given gifts. Thou shalt trade barbs with Matthew Perry in Fools Rush in, though we have a hard time believing you’re the mean guy. Most importantly, thou shalt bear a daughter, Emerson, whose talents and gorgeosity (from the perfect gene pool) will shine upon the land.” And so it was. Our Dish wish is for Jon Tenney to have a great birthday and enjoy the rest of his forties. Forty-five is that much closer to fifty. Just ask Bruce Willis, Billy Bob Thorton and Harrison Ford. Fifty is fabulous. So actually, happy early 50th birthday. We think you’re bitchin’ (as long as you don’t get an earring because that would be desperate).

Superman Haiku

Knocked up Lois Lane
Flies away when he needs to
Do capes pay the bills?

Star Sighting

10:38 p.m.--Fresh from my date with a very nice person, I stepped into the subway stop at 50th and Broadway and almost walked into Holland Taylor. She was luscious and rummaging in her bag before popping a wad of gum in her mouth. I walked by her twice just to see her chomp. How I wanted to tell her that her pivotal line in Legally Blonde--"If you're going to let one stupid prick ruin your life, you're not the girl I thought you were"--was and still is my mantra. Also, that I've loved her since "Bosom Buddies." I ESPeed it to her instead.

Keanu's Korner--a Haiku

Coolness Class starts now
Dude, it's called a thinking cap
Like brain suspension?

The Conversation

Darling, the cosine function is only used when evaluating xy over my butt.

Yo, I think your butt would be a whole integer and not a cosine.

The only cosine you know anything about is what the bank asks when you want to get another house.

Speaking of houses, the area of a receptacle is height times altitude.

I think your receptacle has too much depth.

Baby, you say the sweetest things.

The Conversation

Katnip, how can you say Jane Eyre is about colonial rule? That's so whack!

Snookiebear, he fornicated with that ugly nanny and kept his wife in a cage. Sorta like, ya know, England dominating whatever? We so don't stand for that in the U.S. And I really don't like to be dominated. I mean, I sort of do, but not really.

Come on, poopiepants, would I ever keep you in a cage? Rochester's beyotch-wife was insane and you're so not.

Thanks so much, my short snap-crackle-doodle-bug. I promise I will never ever wever set your housey-wousey on fire.

Serendipity

No sooner does Dish show off her masterful Photoshopping with an Aniston haiku than she reads that Jen and Vince have broken up. How will Jennifer deal with the foiled attempt at relationship one-upmanship now that her ex-husband is all snug in a bug on a rug? Get someone else FAST! Someone better and famouser. Like maybe...no, I can't say it. And besides, he just got married so that wouldn't be nice. If only everyone could have their failed relationships in the headlines. Speaking of headlines, Dish is going out on her first date in ten months. Where did all the time go? Not that this is exciting, but certainly a miracle given absorption in work and Sudoku puzzles. And yet, there will always be time to draw mustaches on stars.

Evil Software Haiku

Dish loves the Jen, yet
we taught ourselves Photoshop
Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

World Events Haiku

The Closer back on!
People dying in Iraq
Brit flashes cho-cho

Bolton goes bye bye
Brown cloud on Albuquerque
Where are Tom and Kate?

Keanu's Korner: Haiku

The message is such
Puppies sing when birds fly low
Til, split ends aren't cool

Britney and Paris: The Conversation

But, Brit, wouldn't you say Emile Zola was a hack? I mean, like, Naturalism is so, like, Nine Inch Nails but late 1800s.

True, Paree, but churning out twenty million tomes is totally awesome. And you could say that the body's decay--especially of the female body--is much like France post-monarchy.

Agree but isn't it quality and not quantity? Billy Ray Cyrus wrote one cool song, so isn't that enough?

Zola had time on his hands, girlfriend. He could sit and write all day--quality and quantity. No worries on where to get servicing or meals since he had a wife and mistress. No need for a real job so not too shab. Hmmm, been there, married that!

What are you talking about? [cackle, cackle] Okay, c'mon, let's go slug Lindsay Lohan!

Keanu's Korner--Haiku

Ageless and handsome
Yet chin fades to nothingness
Dig the Tao, not Duh

Pam-Rock Split Haiku

I had such high hopes
Fresh green grass and crystal dreams
Who gets the boobies?

Today's Star Sighting

As Dish was exiting Camper on Prince Street, Catalina Sandino Moreno was entering with innocuous dude. She wore a hoodie and dark blue denim jeans. No eye contact and she should be thankful since we would have shown her the totally funkola boots we just got. And asked her if she really had to swallow and poop bags of heroin in Maria Full of Grace. Gross!

Good Morning, Star Shine

We started reading Shine, Star Jones Reynold’s self improvement testimony and her tips on how to be your best and shine. Mostly, we wanted to snicker, but then realized twenty pages in that this desire wasn’t exactly woman-empowering. She may have annoyed people, married a gay man, or whatever, but she has had quite a life. Why do we have to like or hate these people? Dish doesn’t think Star is harming the planet, so we wish her well on her personal journey.

Who knows what these celebs do? The fact could be that they aren’t as interesting as their PR machines would like us to think. Tons of people file for divorce, have babies or lavish weddings, deliver racial slurs, marry the obviously wrong mate, get fat, get skinny, cheat, follow crazy religions and exude nothingness. I’m sure if we were famous, our romantic woes, spirituality or eating habits would hold no end of fascination. But for now it makes our friends’ and family’s eyes glaze over, n'est-ce pas?

Whores Rule: Reason #1 why Queer As Folk, Sex and the City and The L Word are the same show

Dish's favorite characters on Queer As Folk, Sex and the City and The L Word are the whores of the show. They are outlandish, always speak the truth and don't care what others think. Eventually, they see the light of monogamy (well, except for Shane at the end of Season #3) but until then, they have the most fun.

On Sex and the City, Kim Catrall's Samantha dazzled us with the swing, "funky spunk", a brief affair with Sonia Braga, time with a modelizer and countless delivery men. She threw water on loud trannies, lied her way into an exclusive club and was the only character who really lived up to the show's title. Then they gave her breast cancer, but by then, she'd settled with the hot younger guy.

Gale Harold filled the role of Brian Kinney on Queer As Folk. He filled counless other roles, over and over again in his beautiful Pittsburg loft. With the ever-present condom in hand, he was the show's staunchest advocate for safe sex. And he wore the best clothes. They gave him testicular cancer, too, and then syphillis as extra punishment for his wicked ways. In the last season, he finally says, "I love you" to his much younger sort-of boyfriend, but only after a bomb went off that almost killed the little tyke. Still, it was intense.

Lastly and not leastly, is the butch Shane of The L Word played by Katherine Moennig. Any man or woman should find her sexy as she struts, wears interesting hairstyles and lures sweet naked young things into posh California pools. She wound up in a monogamous relationship with a feisty Mexican but left her at the altar because "that's just who she was." You can't tie a person like Shane down. Well, you can but eventually she'll leave you. Stay tuned for what happens in Season 4. I kinda hope she goes back to Roseanna Arquette. We like it when Roseanna gets work.

Next up is Reason #2 for why these three shows are the same: There's Always an Uptight One--Charlotte, Dana and Ted.

A Jolie Thanksgiving Haiku

Doo-goods on parade
Beauty charity for you
Not wearing panties

Shocking Shoplifting

The following masked bandit made his way through Petco, shoveling large amounts of beef jerky into his Gucci bag. When led away in cuffs, the thief asked the press to keep his identity a secret as long as possible, at least until trial date. But we did get this photo.

Altman Adieu

Player in Nashville
Let's all talk at the same time
Robert, he Cut Shorts

(1925-2006)

Star Sighting

Yesterday, we were on our way to see Daniel Craig in Casino Royale--stepfather unwilling accomplice--and saw Sam Mendes on 8th Avenue, between 22nd and 23rd. We witnessed proof of his existence years ago post-American Beauty and pre-marriage to Kate Winslet and forgot to write down the details. Luckily, we didn't gawk this time. Besides, we're prettier.

Tomkat Haiku

Mirror, mirror, on
the wall, who's the boringest
of them all? (hee hee)

Sexiest Man Alive?

George Clooney is again People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive (I keep typing Sexist Man Alive, though a total accident). He's handsome and wildly funny but can't they pick someone who hasn't won before? Brad's been having a good PR year, so he could go for a third term. Then Matthew again, then Harrison Ford. Jude Law could go for #2 after he's re-built up his street cred (rumor has it he's left Sienna "for good"). Maybe it's because he's so not controversial and does good deeds. Julia Roberts loves him, too.

Just wish People was more adventurous--like maybe they could choose a geezer, one who still gets all the chicks even though he's hideous. Or they could choose someone who's literally bursting at the seams to be the world's greatest Actor (who is also hot). Jake Gyllenhaal? Matt Damon (wink, wink The Daily Damon)? Heath Ledger?

No disrespect intended toward Clooney. Well, except for Solaris.

And Then There Were Two

No sooner do we show Dakota Fanning in an earlier post than the preview for the next L&O: SVU appears. Which brings me to the crisis of the week: The world was frightening enough with one Fanning. But now there are two. Elle Fanning plays a demon child on next week's episode and we're already eyeing the muscle relaxants in our medicine cabinet.

What are the odds that these girls hate each other? Perhaps, ten years from now, we'll see a rivalry like the one between Joan Fontaine and Olivia de Havilland. Personally, I think Rebecca could beat the crap out of Melanie.

Dish Upon a Star University

Dish Upon a Star would like to announce its new school: Dish Upon a Star University. To become truly insane, immerse yourself in celebrity culture and get a degree in stargazing. It's sort of like a degree in French, which is not useful for anything except reading Baudelaire.

To receive a diploma, you need to acquire 100 credits.

Friendship with a celebrity (not just a passing hello) -- 5 credits
Eyelock with a celebrity -- 1 credit
Star Sightings - 1/2 credit
Conversation with a star (even just hello, as long as you respond) - 1 credit
Sleeping with a celebrity -- 50 credits
Keeping an ongoing blog about stars -- 10 credits
Longtime crush on celebrity lasting over 10 years -- 5 credits
High school term paper on celebrity -- 5 credits
Reporting spectacular celebrity news -- 2 credits

Courses you can take at DUAS U:

Creating lesson plans for Paris Hilton and child stars: 3 credits

A study of plastic surgery: Does it help a star's career or is it just something for us to make fun of?

How Sex and the City, Queer As Folk and The L Word are the same show: 3 credits

Analysis of accidental erotic dreams where celebrities are involved (like the one we had about Tom Cruise--yuck!): 3 credits

A strategic plan for meeting a celebrity without inconveniencing him/her or going to jail: 3 credits.

Divas' ex-husbands and why Mark Anthony and Cleopatra could have never worked out today: 3 credits

The road to Oscar--a study of cross-dressers, queens, murderers, old farts and mentally challenged characters in film.

Curriculum suggestions welcome.

Sign up today!

Levert Lament

Gerald Levert Requiem Haiku

Not your Cas'nova
Me 'n Romeo never
Been friends. Can't you see

How much I really
love you, gonna sing it to
you time and time 'gain

(1966-2006)

Poem Palance

Smirky Adonis
Rugged match for the Bardot
Multi-lingual stud




One armed push-up, sniff
Salt of the earth, eats no dust
Ta, City Slicker

(1919-2006)

Confection Haiku

Cake shoes wigs Champagne
Marie reads Rousseau aussi?
Le petit truth stretch

Sofia so brill
Merci, chou chou, je t'aime (oui)
Let them eat boogers!

Britney Spears Dumps K-Fed!

Oops, she did it again, got rid of Husband #2 finally! Now, Federline can join the pool of back-up dancer ex-husbands and find a job to support his four children.

What will she do next?

Kiss of the Week

Finally, Sally Field gets some action. Last night on the family drama Brothers & Sisters (really Thirty-Something), we almost dropped a stitch when Treat Williams and Sally made out. What a happy accident that we even tuned in, as we'd done the past several weeks. Sally usually plays the role of Mother Who Really Cares, giving new meaning to the word schmacting and viewers overlook her attractiveness. On Brother & Sisters, she is again a mother--except now she gets to have sex. Judging from the previews, this happens next week. I'm already holding up my sign that says, "Union."

So, here's proof that there is life after forty...along with osteoporosis commercials.

Short Straw Haiku

I try so hard, sniff
More costumes, accents and fat
Oh my! Smell my chill

Must try my next face
The industry, all Britneys
Frantic ham sandwich

Mama Mia

Sometimes, I likes me a good devil movie. But I'll talk about Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible: III later. Today's pick is the remake of The Omen, that terrible 1970s movie starring Gregory Peck and Lee Remick (a movie that still scared the piss out of my brother). Put a W in front of that and you get The Women. No coincidence since Mia Farrow plays a perfect devil's minion and Julia Stiles, who gets top billing, flashes her devil teeth. Both vixens bite it in the end. Mia kills Julia, then Liev Schreiber both kicks and runs over an ax-wielding Mia. Fun!

But this movie is about Damien, the devil child. The earlier Damien is freakier. This one could have easily been lifted from the Hollywood collection of Stepford child actors. He wins in the end, which is predictable. I mean, even devil children are our future. How else are we going to run the country further into the ground?

If you were bored by the first Omen, this one is only a little more entertaining. Some jazzier special effects--and a more disgusting decapitation of the photographer.

Vanished Update

It was more painful than I ever could have envisioned. Gale Harold, blue lipped, lying on a slab on the show Vanished. Dead. No more seeing him run after the bad guys, sporting metallic gray power-suits, investigating a possible bomb and wearing his ultra-phallic magic bomb-buster helmet. Even Mr. By-the-book Esai Morales cried over his death.

As she held his perfect hand, Gale’s poor ex-wife wept for their lost time. She’ll never get over losing Gale. Then his partner Ming Na entered and assured the wife that Gale missed her. I wondered—did the dead body smell as most decomposing bodies do? Or had they spritzed him with FDS for the visitors? Did Gale enjoy acting dead when he could have spent the last few episodes guest-starring on Law & Order or Deadwood instead? Oh, wait. He was on Deadwood and now he’s dead wood. Now that Gale’s gone, I really don’t care who else dies on the show.

But I hope Penelope Ann Miller gets everything since she's a sweet redhead--or so we think. It's hard to believe she's a huge bee-ach, which makes her all the more creepy. And yet, I think she'd be better served on Law & Order. Perhaps even Carlito's Way II?

Tom Haiku

Welcome, movie-philes
I'll be your actor today
Breathe my happy gas

United Artists
Cruise waits for no Heaven's Gate
Like some fries with that?

I'll have the Keanu-Kabob with Some Ice-T

Star Sighting: Today, 3:30 EST, HT--friend of DUAS--saw Keanu Reeves walking on the north side of 14th street, midway between 5th and 6th Avenue. He was with a brunette-bobbed babe. Keanu wore a black turtleneck and a brown corduroy blazer with jeans (HT thinks they were jeans and doesn't want to be labeled a Star Whore for noticing). Furthermore, he thinks Keanu had his hands in his jeans pockets and was possibly breathing oxygen through his mouth and nose. Bottom line: Keanu was in Manhattan today.

In other news, while we were at the gym, we turned on the TV and saw long-time super-secret crush Ice-T teaching Wonder Bread middle schoolers how to rap on VH1's Ice-T's Rap School. How cute is that? We especially like the shy fat girl, who keeps getting fatter with each episode. The show features a cuddlier Ice-T, a long ways from his Copkiller days. In these dark times, we highly recommend watching these gawky children rap their hearts out--and fatherly Ice-T helping the little mo-fos through.

A Ryan Rhyme (Haiku)

I shaved off the beard
Blond sugar and spice, so long!
Will hit Chelsea hard

Just Another Day in Divorce, Cancer and Adoption

Dish hasn't been taking her celebrity Metamucil, thus the irregularity. She apologizes for the hiatus to obsess about real people. The repeated discovery that real people are never so constant as the stars has returned her to life in the clouds. So here goes:

1. Poor Reese. Poor Ryan. But considering how pretentious his character was in Cruel Intentions, and how much he wanted to mount Joshua Jackson, are we surprised? The nail in the coffin is always the Oscar curse. What man can deal with his female partner getting an Oscar--Hello, Benjamin Bratt and Julia Roberts, Gwyneth Paltrow and Ben Affect, Halle Berry and Eric Benet. The sound of shrinking testicles can be heard across the land.

2. Kylie Minogue returns to tour after conquering breast cancer. Yes, please get back on tour, Kylie, before your copycat sister Dani takes over the music scene.

3. Where was Studio 60 on Sunset Strip on Monday? I was all ready to watch but it wasn't there. Need my fast-dialogue (and secretly, Matthew Perry) fix. Plus, I want to spend sixty minutes feeling sorry for the Harriet Hayes character. She's adorable, blonde, on television every week, told often how talented she is (when really she's kinda as good as I would be in sketch comedy), dates a hunky baseball player but is in love with the cute head writer on the show. Don't you feel bad for her?

4. So, Madonna adopted a baby and everyone condemns her. On October 26th, Andrea Peyser of The New York Post called Madonna, "the sluttish superstar." Isn't that nice? Especially to someone who's been married or in long-term relationships for the last twenty years--not that this means anything. Madonna just can't get away from that pointy breast bustier. Did Angelina get as much censure when she adopted Maddox while in a shaky marriage with Billy Bob and they carried around vials of blood around their necks? Then again, Angelina has those blazing eyes and pillowy lips. She's made out with her brother, gone public with her bisexuality and penchant for lovers rather than relationships, snatched Brad Pitt from the Aniston. She can expand her brood and we all stand back to watch with awe. Peyser also wrote--referring to Madonna and Oprah--"Don't trust these women with innocents."

Someone hasn't been taking her Metamucil.

Blythe Blythe

It was Thursday night (the day before Simon Le Bon's birthday, not that that has to do with anything) and I had my ticket in hand. Having packed my survival kit (water, knitting, sudoku, toothpicks, Altoids, eyedrops, a pencap--don't ask--and rubber bands), I prayed my nerves could stand the sight of Gale Harold so close. The play was Suddenly, Last Summer by Tennessee Williams.

As the usher pointed out my seat, I could see the universe was protecting me. Third row on the side, an aisle seat and a perfect path toward the exit. I relaxed, listened to Ray and Martha discuss a golf game, watched as the tallest man sat in front of me, played a sudoku puzzle. The lights dimmed and suddenly, in that second, Gale Harold and Blythe Danner were on stage. I didn't even have to squint to see their facial features.

Before I go any further, Blythe Danner must be added to the list below of worthy over-50 women to emulate. She and Carla Gugino stole the play. My beloved Gale was mostly a tall, thin prop in a seersucker suit. Noticed a few blond streaks in his hair and wondered if he liked them. Were they permanent streaks?

Blythe Danner was beautiful and lent a softness to the crazy mother caricature. She seemed so at ease on stage, even when her cane didn't fasten to her wheelchair properly, so she asked Gale to hold it for her. She faked breathlessness so well that I started to get breathless. As she did her opening monologue, I asked myself how much time it took for her to memorize the lines. Did she get nervous anymore?

Then Carla Gugino appeared and while recognizable from movies like Spy Kids and Sin City, she is a brilliant stage actress. She wore this white dress and heels I wish I could have pulled off. When she dashed up the steps, I hoped that she wouldn't trip. Then what would happen? Would they have to stop the play or would Carla just improvise, the blood from skinning her knee a sort of morbid mix with her white dress? See, this is why I don't see a lot of plays. Overthinking.
So, I pretty much forgot about Gale and was riveted by the two female leads. From time to time, I reminded myself that he was only thirty feet from me. And what would it be like if I just walked up on stage? But I didn't. And there was no hyperventilating. Just a nice evening and a so-so production with some great moments.

Harry Potter Haiku

Fame makes dating hard
I will use my magic wand
It's a real live girl

The accent makes me
For behold, I am Zygote
Brit, teen, oh so clean

Urban Rehab-se

Dear Keith Urban,

A lone tear crept down my cheek when I read the news about your going into rehab. I don't really listen to your music and only know you as Nicole Kidman's husband, but the sympathy is there. I know what it feels like to kick an addiction. You see, three years ago, I gave up caffeine and cigarettes. Starting at fourteen, I drank four caffeinated beverages a day and puffed a pack of any butts I could find--Marlboros, Parliaments, yes, even Capri menthols. Then, twenty-*&* years later, I gave up both. Oh sure, smoking air cigarettes helped me through those first few months of withdrawal, as did accidentally emailing ex-boyfriends from ten years ago, but I've found no substitute for the morning shakes after high-powered mud-coffee.

There's so much pressure to drink coffee. If you say you want decaf, the eye-rolling is constant and you might as well ask Coffeeman for warm pee. Then, you don't want to be associated with those who don't drink coffee (the ones who claim not to like the taste or be allergic), but inevitably, that's what happens. I'll admit, I want to slip some mojo in my joe, but then I remember the monster headache come early afternoon. And if I were a character on Lost, I'd go through withdrawal symptoms. Unless I could get into the hatch.

Keith, we applaud your acting on your own behalf before slobbering racial slurrs on policepeople or strategically timing your rehab to coincide with a movie debut. Dish is with you.

Gettin' It Post-50: Part II

Just saw The Queen and now have a girl-crush on Helen Mirren. She definitely belongs in the group of women over 50 who do it better than anyone. This movie and Helen provide a complex view (though my mum thinks it's romanticized) of Her Highness, especially during Diana's death. Helen acts her butt off and is subjected to the world's ugliest clothing. Did want to snatch those pearls off her neck, wear them and stomp on those large glasses. Somehow, Helen made it all look good.