What the bloomin’ heck is going on? Issue #1 with Mrs Frankowitz

I remember exactly where I was the morning Philip Seymour Hoffman died.

In my kitchen, eating a boiled egg watching Lorraine, of course.

I put my hearing aid on because I cannot hear anything without them and thought Lorraine said Dustin Hoffman had died!

It shook me to my core cos’ I loved Cocktail. But when I switched my ears on, I soon learnt it was Philip Seymour Hoffman, another actor with a Jewish surname, who had died and screamed  “Thank G-D!”  right at my egg, which in hindsight was not very nice at all.

I have downloaded a couple of PSH’s films to watch this week out of respect. RIP PSH. [divider]

My world turned upside down like I was in a washing machine when I read about Ryan Gosling being single again.  I cannot say I knew who he was at first – a man or a duck – but I was shown a photograph of him by my best friend Hetty who has a bit of a thing for ducks, and swiftly understood why she has sellotaped pictures of him to all her plates. He is a right dish.

Is he local? [divider]

I am very worried about David Beckham – who I know used to play football for Spurs.

Every time I open my peepers these days, I see his tuchus staring straight back at me –on a billboard, in the newspaper, or even sometimes when my eyes are closed in the bath. Is he a pornstar now? How rare.

I feel very sad for him if he is. Unlike most of his older fans, it is his voice that I find most attractive. I hope he does not feel too cheap and exposed, like Hetty. Prince William and thingy were in the Caribbean weren’t they.

Lucky for some. And, finally, to end my first column, mazeltov to womaniser Bill Roache who was found not guilty of those nasty things they said he did but didn’t do.

I for one have been watching Corrie since my Sid was alive. When my daughter-in-law told me what he’d been accused of, I spat a kneidel in her face. He’s 92 you know.