Some are more equal than others

What's the difference between exhibitionism and exposing yourself? That's not the set-up for a joke, it's a genuine question.

Two different women, two different outfits, two different nights out. Neither one seems to have any qualms about showing off the goods, and yet the Mail has two very different ways of reporting their exploits.

The first is Liz Hurley, who never met a dress she couldn't spill out of. From attending a film premiere dressed like a punk's earlobe, to turning up at someone else's wedding in a limelight-hogging frock, Liz has always had a penchant for picking the perfect outfit to guarantee column inches.

This week she and husband Arun Nayar arrived at the Love Ball charity event, with Liz sporting a sheer blue sari and nothing else. As a result the paparazzi's flashbulbs revealed Liz's Notting Hill's in all their glimmering glory.

But because La Hurley is plummier than a bottle of hoisin sauce, the Mail decided to give her weather-inappropriate outfit a fawning write-up - "Now that's sheer exhibitionism, Liz. With a figure like hers at 44, who can blame La Hurley for wanting to show it off?"

However, it was a different story for Peaches Geldof, who took a picture of herself showing some leg in the back of taxi en route to the Issa catwalk show. This time the Mail's slightly more condemnatory coverage read "Why IS Peaches exposing herself in the back of taxi? Dress rode up to expose her heavily tattooed thigh - the perfect picture to Twitter then."

Now, I can't blame the Mail for taking a dislike to Peaches, a woman so pointless she could have sprung from the pages of the Innovations catalogue. But why is she described as 'attention-seeking', whilst Hurley gets a commendation for 'accidentally' overlooking the need for underwear?

Attention is like oxygen to any celebrity - especially those who serve a mostly decorative function. Self-worth is measured in column inches. So by all means congratulate Liz on looking fantastic at 44, but don't give her a free pass only to condemn those who try a similar tactic.

Besides, if they really want to take a pop at Peaches, they're hardly going to be short of material - unlike her dress.

She'll fight for this love

Given that 2010 is a World Cup year, we shouldn't really be surprised that the papers are full of action packed stories of our most celebrated footballers. It's just a little depressing to discover that none of the stories are actually about football.

If the papers are to be believed, most premiership players prefer to warm up for the big game by spitroasting a glamour model, rather than jogging around the pitch. It doesn't help that John Terry has gone from England Captain to a one-size-fits-all punchline for any joke about marital disharmony, in a matter of weeks.

According to American sports sociologist, Jeff Benedict, "Almost across the board, professional athletes have a warped perception of women because of what they are exposed to: women approaching them, offering to have sex with them, sending them their underwear in the mail." I guess sometimes the temptation is just too great.

Look at Ashley Cole (if you have to). He's already managed to elevate his wife to the status of 'national treasure' by cheating on her once. With the revelation that he may be playing away from home yet again, Cheryl is likely to be made a Dame of the British Order before the year is out.

This time around, he's been taking pictures of his little striker and sending it to a 'glamour model' called Sonia Wild. The only thing more unlikely than Sonia's conveniently saucy surname, is Ashley's preposterous explanation of how his extremities ended up on someone else's phone.

Apparently, Ashley took the pictures just for fun on an unregistered pay-as-you-go phone, then gave it to a friend to use up the remaining credit. He just forgot to mention that the phone's memory was full of low-resolution amateur porn. Like you do.

This inconsiderate pal discovered the gallery of images, and decided to send them on to a topless model from Hull. Turned on by the fact that she was getting pictures from a 'soccer star', she reciprocated: "I sent back video footage on my phone of myself naked and doing sexy things. At the time it was a laugh and a bit of a thrill for me." Almost as much of a thrill as going to the press with an SD card full of celebrity wang.

Whether you choose to believe Ashley's imaginative explanation is of little or no consequence. It's Mrs Cole that the foolhardy footballer really has to answer to.

Cheryl has forgiven Ashley before, and successfully leveraged her broken heart into a career-making accessory. But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned second time around.

She may be little more than a Girls' World mannequin who talks like Paul Gascoigne, but Cheryl packs a mean punch - as bathroom attendant Sophie Amogbokpa can confirm. Suddenly, that ankle injury is the least of Ashley's worries...

Warning: may contain nudity

The USA's weird relationship with its own body took some interesting turns this week with a couple of surprising news stories.

First up, Playboy announced its very first animated cover-star in the form of America's favourite housewife Marge Simpson. In an unusual attempt at attracting twenty-something readers, the blue-haired house-frau strikes a Christine Keeler pose on the front of the long-running tug book.

But anyone hoping to discover whether the carpets match the Smurf-cloured drapes will be sorely disappointed. Unlike her son Bart, who went full-frontal in the recent Simpsons Movie, Marge's photoshoot will only feature implied nudity.

Meanwhile, double Oscar-winner Hilary Swank has been talking to Marie Claire about her forthcoming biopic of aviatrix Amelia Earhart. In a seemingly innocuous interview, the unappealingly monikered awards-vacuum happened to mention that she's occasionally naked in front of her new partner's child.

"Well, my boyfriend's son is 6 years old, and you wonder at what age you should stop walking around nude. Every morning he comes into the bedroom, and you're just nude. But he doesn't look twice; he doesn't think about it yet."

Of course, the news media has gone to town on the subject, running countless stories questioning how appropriate all this is, with headlines like 'Hilary Swank's Nude Dilemma' and 'Hilary Swank: Six-Year-Old Sees Me Nude'. Reporting on her entirely normal behaviour, these articles make comments like "Hilary has no qualms about flashing her flesh in front of partner John Campisi's child" as though she doesn't just sleep in the nude, but entertains the kids by firing ping-pong balls across the bedroom.

Back in July, a report by the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) found that teenage pregnancies and syphilis rose sharply during George Bush's traumatic tenure, largely thanks to W's insistence on evangelically informed abstinence programmes.

With schools telling the kids to leave their unmentionables alone, it falls to parents to give young people a pragmatic and realistic education into how their bodies work. But given the reaction to Hilary's entirely innocent admission, I imagine the only people likely to be celebrating will be the staff at babyGap.

Do I amuse you?

An interesting report was published 18-months ago that confirmed once-and-for-all an alarming prejudice. The UCLA-Harvard study analysed almost 20,000 films and determined that the odds of Oscar success heavily favour dramas over comedy. More specifically the researchers found that actors were nine times more likely to be nominated for acting in a drama than any other genre.

The annals of film history are littered with great comedy performances that have gone unrewarded. The best that most performers can hope for is a nod in the supporting category - take a bow Whoopi Goldberg for single-handedly making the otherwise awful Ghost at least watchable.

So spare a thought for Sacha Baron Cohen, a man whose commitment to method acting makes Robert DeNiro look like Ben Affleck. Often dismissed as little more than a trickster comedian, Cohen is actually an extraordinarily committed actor. Think about it - his performances as Ali G were so believable that he actually managed to convince otherwise intelligent people that he was in fact black, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Then came Borat in a bright green mankini, fooling the credulous and the cretinous all over the US with his bushy moustache, disarming naivete and casual racism. All it took was a new outfit and a different approach to facial hair to completely transform Cohen into an unrecognisable Kazakhstani journalist.

When that movie grossed over a quarter of a billion dollars, film studios were desperate to sign up Cohen for more of the same. But there was concern that with Cohen now Hollywood's hottest enfant terrible, he would be unable to dupe the public all over again in a new guise. But they underestimated his chameleonic commitment.

So now we find ourselves anticipating the imminent release of Bruno, charting the adventures of Austria's pre-eminent flamboyant fashion doyen. Throwing himself into the role with gusto, Cohen risked life and limb to expose the homophobia lurking in America's heartland.

As well as sneaking naked into an unsuspecting hunter's tent, simulating sex in a hot-tub and offering Dr. Paul Cameron, chairman of the Family Research Institute, a blow job, Cohen has also stayed in character long after the film's completion.

In doing so, he has turned the film's staggered premières into a kind of experiential showcase that further blurs the boundaries between fact and fiction. But given the uncomfortable issues he scrutinises in his films, perhaps that's exactly what's needed. Let's just hope that Oscar is paying attention...