A right mouthful

Hurrah, it's back to save us from the tedium of cold winter weekdays. I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here is now in its tenth series, having found another bunch of willing spotlight-seekers keen to secure another fifteen minutes of fame, even if they're spent trying to masticate a partially desiccated kangaroo penis.

The ITV casting team is running like a well-oiled machine by now, so the contestants have been selected to fall into rather predictable categories. There's a politician, an athlete, a singer, a reality show contestant, a past-her-prime glamour-puss, posh actor and then an assortment of people picked solely to inspire lots of "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are" conversations.

Although the show is only a few installments into its latest run, it already feels like it's never been away. Kind of like slipping on a pair of comfortable slippers, that just happen to be filled with cockroaches and eel slime.

Stacey Solomon has already established herself as a firm favourite, thanks to her unaffected persona and the fact that she could be outwitted by most of the jungle's indigenous flora.

Less appealing is Gillian McKeith, who has spent her entire career chastising people for the things they put in their mouth. If ever there was a woman crying out to be force-fed a blender full of pulverised bugs, it's Gillian. She believes 'you are what you eat', so presumably she's going to munching on a hand-full of freeze-dried stick insects.

But if you're bored of watching other people spending time in the world's most most unwelcoming fat camp, you can always try it at home. Those clever brand extension people have created a delicious range of 'witchetty grub' treats so that you can replicate the Bushtucker Trial experience at home.

Don't worry, they're not real insects. If you want actual grubs you're going to have to dig out that bottle of tequila.

These are chocolate grubs, just designed to look like the slimy critters. However, only seven of them have a delicious toffee filling. The other three... well, the manufacturers describe them as offering "a nasty surprise".

In fact, they're tripe flavour, and are sure to liven up the petit fours of any dinner party. But don't worry, if you don't want to spend £6.99 on the chocolate equivalent of russian roulette. You could always just use a bag of Revels.

I haven't a thing to wear

It can't be easy for the modern-day journalist. Reduced staff numbers, limited resources and the constant pressure to provide fresh content for the web mean that the art of journalism is dying out.

Instead, most modern newspaper writers have to turn out a handful of articles every day, making them ever more dependent on helpful press releases that can be quickly topped and tailed into 'fast-breaking news stories'.

Which goes some way towards explaining why the Mail ran a lengthy piece today about Kelly Brook's struggle to find outfits that suit her full-bodied shape. Had Sarah Ewing had a little more time on her hands to investigate the story, she might have questioned the logic of an entire feature about a woman who never met an outfit she didn't want to leave crumpled on the studio floor.

To her credit, Kelly has managed to build a pretty successful career out of a pretty face and a pair of boobs that should, by rights, be managed by the National Trust as an outstanding feature of natural beauty. Her early stint as a presenter on the Big Breakfast was about as successful as Gillian McKeith pursuing a career in porn. Nonetheless, Kelly bravely soldiered on, gradually discarding garments until she found her niche (and the rest of the world could see it).

Suddenly, Kelly became what used to be known in Hollywood as a MAW (Model-Actress-Whatever), popping up in any role that called for minimal acting skills and even fewer inhibitions. Whether she was appearing in castaway-thriller 'Three' or treading the boards in Calendar Girls, you could rest assured that Kelly wasn't going to be needing too many coat-hangers.

She's currently giving the people of Battersea enough of a full moon to turn half the population into lycanthropes, thanks to a new Reebok campaign for EasyTone trainers. And with her Playboy shoot hitting the magazine stands in the next couple of weeks, even Kelly herself admits that this is her "naked month". Funnily enough, August is also Simon Cowell's "rich and egocentric" month.

Hopefully, Kelly's next big project will show us a different side of her - she has a key role in horror movie Piranha 3D - a big budget remake of Joe Dante's tongue-in-cheek Jaws rip-off. In most of the footage released so far, Kelly plays to type as a girl who just can't seem to secure her bikini straps.

But instead of just seeing her shedding her clothes, lucky movie-goers will also get to see her skin following suit. It doesn't take a horror aficionado to know that the girl with the biggest breasts is unlikely to make it to the end credits.

And if anyone is in any doubt of what to expect, they need to see the nine minutes of 'too hot for ComicCon' footage that was recently leaked onto the internet. As well as showing off more tits than a skip full of old Pirelli calendars, the film's gruesome centrepiece resembles the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan, if it was shot in Hugh Hefner's pool grotto. I like my horror gory, but this made me feel like I was watching a butcher rinse out his sausage machine.

The article is right - Kelly has found something that suits her. But I'm not sure it's the Vivienne Westwood silk-wrap dress or the Joseph T-shirt. It's the B-movie genre, and it fits her like a glove. Fashions come and go, but trash is truly timeless.

If I could turn back time

This is Diane Sawyer. For those of you who don't know your Sean Hannitys from your Anderson Coopers, Diane is one of the most recognisable news anchors in the US. As well as being amongst the thirty most powerful women in America (according to the Ladies' Home Journal), she's also 63. That's not a typo. She'll be 64 on the 22nd December.

I don't know what Diane's secret is. Maybe she eats her 'five a day', or perhaps she bought some glowing purple potion from Isabella Rossellini. Either way, she does not look her age. Or any age for that matter.

She's one of an alarming new generation of older women who have managed to unwrite all the rules of nature, with their lineless faces, feathered hair and aerobicised bodies. Whether they're forty or sixty-five, there's no way to tell how old they're supposed to be. And it's creepy.

Even more creepy is a story that ran in the Guardian today, that suggests the gruesome lengths that some people will go to in order to halt the passage of time. It's been alleged that a gang in Peru has been killing villagers and draining the fat from the corpses for use in cosmetics. The story broke when two suspects were arrested in Lima carrying bottles of liquid human fat which, they claimed, were worth around £36,000 a gallon.

Police were acting on a tip-off about a thriving trade in fat that was being shipped to Europe and sold as an anti-wrinkle cream. Suddenly, the scene in Fight Club where Brad Pitt steals from the bins outside a liposuction clinic to make his own brand of designer soap, doesn't seem quite so preposterous

Although medical experts agree that human fat can help keen skin supple, they're dubious about the idea of a black market in something that is so readily available. However, the implications are astounding - think how cost-effective it would be to have the fat sucked out of one end and pumped into the other.

It's like the BOGOF of plastic surgery, with patients emerging thinner and younger-looking from a single visit. Surely it's only a matter of time before canny Channel 4 producers get Gillian McKeith and Myleene Klass together to host a mash-up of 'You Are What You Eat' and '10 Years Younger'.