JAN MOIR: I worry what's going on in Wayne's world
JAN MOIR: After this latest scandal and his apology, I worry what’s going on in Wayne’s world
Husbands! One minute they are obediently tidying up their socks, emptying the dishwasher and promising to love you for ever, the next they are waltzing into a budget hotel with a couple of blondes they met in a nightclub.
Wayne Rooney is one such husband who has unluckily been photographed in exactly these circumstances, although he is keen to point out that nothing untoward took place.
‘I went to a private party with two of my friends,’ said Rooney in a statement, making it sound like a jamboree of great-aunts complete with tea, pinkies aloft and a rubber or two of bridge. Wayne, we hear you!
His official version of events certainly puts a positive and wholesome spin on going into a £60 room at a budget hotel at 5.30am for some post-clubbing festivities. But let he who is without wife (who happened to be on a holiday trip to Wales with the kids at the time) cast the first stone.
Wayne Rooney (pictured with model Tayler Ryan) is one such husband who has unluckily been photographed in exactly these circumstances, although he is keen to point out that nothing untoward took place
So hush, naysayers. I’m blowing the whistle and calling foul on any doubting inner imps who suspect the worst. For in Wayne’s world, even the most innocent of post-midnight carousing is open to misinterpretation. If you put two and two together, it doesn’t always result in a threesome, right?
Certainly the women Mr Rooney spent the evening with seem like nice girls — not a chipped fingernail between them and all have clearly passed their eyebrow maintenance exams with distinction. Well done, ladies.
As Christian Dior once said, grooming is the secret of real elegance. He might have added that standards, like bra straps, should never slip, and I don’t think for one second they did.
Like Wayne, I want to look on the bright side, to believe in the power of virtue and fidelity and innocent friendship. Yet even as we admire his restraint, it must be acknowledged that there is some tricky territory to negotiate in Wayne’s past.
I only know that his urge to get close to women who are not his wife, even if it is just to fall asleep in a chair in their company (as seems to be the case here), has been a recurring factor throughout his marriage. Pictured: Coleen and Wayne Rooney
Even before his 2008 wedding to childhood sweetheart Coleen, our hero had bad-boy form.
There was allegedly a brief encounter with an energetic Liverpool grandmother who liked to wear a rubber catsuit and was known to all as the Auld Slapper.
But if we are to apply the rosy filter of Wayne’s world, can’t we find it in our hearts to accept that this public-spirited pensioner should be thanked for providing young men with the kind of match experience that money just can’t buy, even though it apparently did?
After this, Wayne clearly enjoyed meeting young ladies, sometimes in group gatherings — and why not? What’s wrong with a bit of conviviality?
Once, when he was playing for a club in America, there was even a ten-hour ‘bender’ with a friendly barmaid — we can only hope she gave the silly fool a discount.
Somehow Rooney’s career has survived all of these scandalettes and the former England player is now manager of Derby County FC.
Sometimes I think Wayne is too immature to be in charge of a turnstile, let alone an entire football team, but what do I know of professional sport and its many demands?
I only know that his urge to get close to women who are not his wife, even if it is just to fall asleep in a chair in their company (as seems to be the case here), has been a recurring factor throughout his marriage. It doesn’t help that Derby County’s nickname is — oh God, no — the Rams. Apparently this has nothing to do with Wayne, and is just an unfortunate coincidence.
Why expend all this energy and money on the bizarre Wagatha Christie court case with Rebekah Vardy (pictured), whom Coleen accuses of leaking stories about the Rooneys via her private social media account?
The question is, should he be forgiven once more? Coleen, the mother of his four young sons, has been humiliated many times. Yet I don’t see her as a doormat, even if she does seem to have strange priorities.
Why expend all this energy and money on the bizarre Wagatha Christie court case with Rebekah Vardy, whom Coleen accuses of leaking stories about the Rooneys via her private social media account? Especially while forgiving a husband whose behaviour is arguably the bigger transgression against the sanctity of the family unit. It’s not as if she is clinging on just to maintain her lifestyle. If the Rooneys divorced, Coleen would be entitled to a gigantic slice of her husband’s fortune, estimated to be around £122 million.
She’d never want for a dress from Cricket or another holiday in Dubai.
Why do they stay together? Perhaps she is just being practical. Perhaps she doesn’t care.
I have a friend whose husband asked her to name her happy place. ‘I’m not telling you,’ she replied, ‘because you might turn up there and spoil it.’
Perhaps Coleen is one of those wives. Or is something else going on entirely?
You only have to look at 35-year-old Wayne’s ravaged face (he looks about 20 years older) to worry that his problem might not be women, but could be alcohol instead — even though he claimed to have given up drinking in 2019 to save his marriage.
That’s good to hear because I’d hate to think this is another tragedy spooling out before our eyes, like Paul Gascoigne and George Best before him.
Kitty’s the queen of bridal couture
One can only imagine how much they cost, but a simple sundress is about £2,000… And the lace bridal gown? Priceless
Are we all agreed that Lady Kitty Spencer looked amazing in her wedding dress, and has set the bar impossibly high for all brides, past and future?
And that’s even before we get to her darling cavalcade of Dolce & Gabbana dresses worn at her pre-and post-wedding parties.
One can only imagine how much they cost, but a simple sundress is about £2,000… And the lace bridal gown? Priceless.
‘She made Meghan look like a Primark bride,’ sniffed a cruel fashionista friend. Harsh, but almost true
Six quid to climb a stupid ugly hill?
Funnily enough, I first saw the Marble Arch Mound from the top deck of a number 74 bus last week. That is going to be amazing, I thought. When it’s finished.
At the time I didn’t realise that not only was it finished, but people were going to be asked to pay £6.50 to climb up its balding, turfy flanks.
For what? A mocking view to the south and west over Hyde Park, where they could walk for free on real grass.
Or drink in the splendid vista to the north up the Edgware Road, a sight from which Londoners avert their eyes at the best of times.
Funnily enough, I first saw the Marble Arch Mound from the top deck of a number 74 bus last week. That is going to be amazing, I thought. When it’s finished
Did the hill-builders really think this would bring shoppers flocking back to pandemic-lashed Oxford Street? Absolutely staggering, if so. Oh look, a hill! Race you to the top, Sharon.
Six quid to walk up a few flights of stairs?
How the rest of the country — if not the world — must be laughing at that.
OK, this is not a hill to die upon, but still.
Why Simone must put her sanity first
Simone Biles stepping down from the Olympics? Fair enough. Gymnastics looks beautiful and balletic, but is one of the most taxing of sports, physically and mentally.
When a single drop of confidence evaporating or a split-second lapse in concentration could result in a broken neck or worse, surely the very least we can do is support the 24-year-old American in whatever she decides is right for her.
For Simone is no quitter and no ordinary athlete, either. She has been a world-beater since 2013, and has won the women’s all-round title every time she has competed.
When she takes part, a tiny dancer spinning high in the air, alone in all her glory, second best is the most her competitors can ever hope for. Single-handedly, she has pushed her sport to higher levels of excellence, and dazzled everyone while doing so.
Biles has already given so much. Choosing to bow out at such a crucial time suggests that she is not willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of her sport — and there is no shame in that.
Farewell to the show that was a journey for us all
After 17 years, Simon Cowell has finally pulled the plug on The X Factor. ‘I don’t want it to become a joke,’ he said, although the joke is that it had become a joke already.
Yes, the show became a tattered parody of itself, something that should have been killed off a long time ago. Apart from anything else, technology had eclipsed it. Smart young musicians and singers today don’t need to be discovered by the likes of Sharon Osbourne.
Developments in technology and social media mean they can get noticed in a million ways that weren’t available when The X Factor launched in 2004.
But just for a moment, I want to celebrate and remember when The X Factor was the biggest show on British television, with a Saturday night audience of 20 million.
To think back to the golden days of Jedward and Stacey Solomon, of hopeful but hopeless acts making their bid for glory.
Several X Factor alumni have gone on to make decent careers for themselves, including, of course, One Direction, Little Mix, Leona Lewis and Olly Murs, while Alexandra Burke (pictured) is wowing the West End in Joseph and Rylan Clark-Neal is being, well, very Rylan
To remember my all-time favourite X Factor song, That’s My Goal, sung by Shayne Ward. To pause to note that After The X Factor Shayne had a few more pop hits, developed nodules on his throat like Julie Andrews, almost replaced Jason Orange in Take That and went on to star as Aidan in Coronation Street. Now that is a journey.
Several X Factor alumni have gone on to make decent careers for themselves, including, of course, One Direction, Little Mix, Leona Lewis and Olly Murs, while Alexandra Burke (pictured) is wowing the West End in Joseph and Rylan Clark-Neal is being, well, very Rylan.
Not everyone is happy. Katie Waissel, Rebecca Ferguson and Jedward are among those who have complained about bad treatment behind the scenes, and there have even been unsubstantiated allegations of sexual misconduct.
I hate to think anyone was hurt or suffered taking part in The X Factor. But in the end, an opportunity is only what you make of it.
What is this chain gang nonsense from the Prime Minister? Is Boris really serious about making prisoners or those sentenced to community work wear fluorescent jackets as they are punished, so taxpayers and law-abiding citizens can revel in their shame?
Even those of us who are unsentimental about criminals should be appalled. A civilised society has to believe in rehabilitation — to hope lawbreakers will exit prison or punishment as better people, not as miscreants who have been publicly humiliated and are therefore seething with understandable resentments.
I hope and pray this is just another of Boris’s stupid ideas and that he will have forgotten about it by the time someone gives him a bun for his tea.
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