Chansons D'Amour
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Full article: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbi...ke-wooden-blocks-Posh-wasnt-I-needed-her.htmlCheryl Cole: Peaches Geldof is up herself, WAGS are like wooden blocks and Posh wasn't there for me when I needed her
By Liz Thomas
Last updated at 12:44 PM on 06th January 2009
She may have transformed herself from mouthy pop star to national treasure but it seems Cheryl Cole still can't help but shoot from the hip.
The 25-year-old has criticised old friend Victoria Beckham for her lack of support when the allegations of husband Ashley Cole's infidelity first became public.
She also lashes out at Peaches Geldof, Alexa Chung and all her fellow WAGs in an interview for Vogue magazine.
The star revealed she was disappointed not to hear from Mrs Beckham after a hairdresser claimed she had slept with the 28 year-old England and Chelsea footballer.
Cole said: 'She [Victoria] was in my hotel room during the World Cup - we've had barbecues together - so I was quite shocked by that. I mean, David's mum is friends with Ashley's mum.'
The pair became friends during the World Cup in 2006, distancing themselves from the wives and girlfriends of other England players because they had careers of their own.
The Girls Aloud singer famously hailed Beckham as 'witty and ambitious' whilst dismissing the rest of the WAGs as 'bad as benefit scroungers, just a higher class of sponger'.
In the latest interview she again mocks many footballers' wives.
To illustrate she knocks the side of her head with a fist, describing them 'like wooden blocks, I am telling you'.
Quizzed on her opinion of Peaches Geldof she commented that the 20 year-old, often dubbed 'Boomtown Brat', was 'totally up herself'.
She also hit out at television presenter and model Alexa Chung for acting 'all superior'.
Cole is on the front cover of Vogue - traditionally the preserve of the world's most beautiful women - six years after she auditioned for ITV1's Popstars: The Rivals.
Victoria Beckham, 34, achieved the same feat only in March last year - 12 years after the Spice Girls found fame.
Over the years Cole had developed a reputation for being aggressive, antagonistic and outspoken.
In 2003, she was convicted for causing Actual Bodily Harm after a fight with a toilet attendant in a nightclub.
She was ordered to do 120 hours of community service.
The singer was also famed for her public spats with fellow high profile celebrities including Lily Allen, Charlotte Church and Dannii Minogue.
She accused Allen of looking like a man, made jokes about Church's weight and Minogue's use of plastic surgery.
But since the revelations last January that her husband of two years cheated on her, public opinion has softened.
Cole admitted that situation was 'horrendous' but added she had decided to make her marriage work.
She said: 'Ashley's young and he's got a young mentality – for his age anyway. He's learning. He has a beautiful soul, he's a really nice guy and I'm not stupid, you know. I'm really not.'
Simon Cowell's decision to make her the fourth judge on the 2008 series of The X Factor after Sharon Osbourne's departure has helped her profile soar.
It is understood she will re-sign for this year's show later this month, doubling her salary to £1million.
^If I didn't already dislike Cheryl before,she's just confirmed to me again that she's poisionous. But back on topic,that tartan coat is amazing,does anyone know where it's from?

I know right?!I love how she accuses Alexa of acting superior. Talk about pot calling the kettle black.

Today's First ladies are hailed as IT girls. As a result, politics now appeals to the design-savvy youtube demographic. Samantha Cameron, wife of Tory leader David, joined Alexa Chung in the front row at London Fashion Week. Famed for her good taste, Samantha, creative director of luxury stationer Smythson, keeps the interior stylish at her eco-friendly Ladbroke Grove home. Samantha's mother is, lest we forget, co-owner of ethnic upmarket furniture chain Oka.

The IndependentAlexa Chung: There are many modern versions of Pamela Des Barres' Sixties groupie
So here we go, another elaborate postcard from me to you. I'm still in Australia watching patient surfers bobbing along on the waves, I'm still downing mojitos and I'm still worried about the deadly-spider situation... wish you were here etc.
When the clock struck 12 to welcome New Year's Day, all the boats in Sydney Harbour lit up to reveal the outline of a variety of different animals and fish (my favourite was a somehow smug-looking whale). But my childlike sense of happiness at seeing this electric spectacle was cut short when I discovered that nobody my age knows the words to "Auld Lang Syne" – not even the first line. So depressing. I made a promise that the next day I would print them out so that in a year's time we'd all be up to speed; this is something I have yet to do, because I quickly realised I'm the only one who cares.
Having read half of Nancy Mitford's Love in a Cold Climate, my Penguin Classic mysteriously vanished. I later decided it must have been among the collection of valuables that were swept off the edge of our balcony in the gusty almost-storm. Perhaps, finally, this is my cue to purchase the book people have been recommending to me for a disturbingly long time, possibly even before Judy Blume's Blubber was brought to my attention.
All too often girls say to me: "You should read I'm with the Band." It's a memoir written by a groupie (Pamela Des Barres) in the Sixties and Seventies in which she documents how she slept with at least one member of every cool band of that era. Apparently Des Barres is pretty awesome because, as my friend so eloquently put it, "she wasn't even that hot but she boned Jim Morrison and about 100 others". Well done her.
Thus far, I have refused to pick it up, probably because I refuse to admit I would be interested in groupies, because I refuse to admit that I probably am one. I logged on to Facebook so that I could ask various girlfriends who have had various dalliances with band members, their opinions on groupies and groupiedom. The most interesting thing I discovered was that not one of them considered themselves to be a groupie.
I tried again, this time providing them with the internet dictionary definition of the noun "groupie": "A young person who is an ardent admirer of rock musicians and may follow them on tour." In light of this new information, most of them changed their minds.
The fact that so many of the girls were reluctant to admit they are groupies implies that it's no longer perceived to be the glamorous job option it once was. Following a band around on tour nowadays seems like a fairly unfulfilling thing for a woman to do. And given the terminology that bands fling about in reference to groupies, such as "***** passes" (the tickets tour managers hand out to hot young things loitering near a venue's exits), it's no wonder some girls want to distance themselves from such degrading behaviour.
I suppose the groupies of yesteryear have been replaced by footballers' WAGs: women who are admired for looking glamorous and pretty side of pitch, as opposed to side of stage. But I can assure you there still exist plenty of modern versions of Des Barres' blueprint. The other night, at the aftershow party of a Mystery Jets gig in Sydney, I observed the behaviour of two girls with triple-A passes stuck to their hotpants. Although they were talking to each other, neither was listening to what the other one was saying. Their attention was out in the room, eyes flickering from side to side, scanning at speed, mapping out which member of the band was where and calculating just how many other girls they'd have to cast aside before they reached their chosen target. It's important to note that none of the boys seemed aware of the imminent attack. I sighed and looked away. Ugggh, groupies.
And yet here I am weighing up whether or not to stay in Australia so that I can follow around a band I "ardently admire" as they tour Big Day Out. Those girls I looked upon with pity and disdain are no different from me or any of my friends or counterparts. They're just younger and haven't yet worked out how not to look like a groupie. Of all the girls I contacted and told I was writing this column, one replied with a rather astute comment. "If there weren't so many groupies willing to sleep with boys just cos they are in a band," she said, "then there wouldn't be so many ****ty bands filled with boys who just want to sleep with groupies." Profound. This girl, too, said she definitely wasn't one.