Nicole Kidman would rather have a baby than romance

Last updated at 22:16 08 September 2007

Nicole Kidman may be a beautiful and gifted actress but she leaves me cold because she is always so miserable.

In a recent interview, which pictures her vacantly holding her blouse open, she talks about the miscarriage she had when she was with Tom Cruise and "the painful, painful place" she was in before her current husband Keith Urban went to rehab.

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Nicole Kidman

She also talks of her desire for a baby.

Urban has said he wants a couple of years "where I just have you. It's kind of romantic".

As Kidman is already 40, I would say it's kind of stupid.


It's asparagus, not a Taliban raid, Marco

Nobody, and I mean nobody, challenges me in my kitchen.

I am in total control. I am the goddess of jus. A genius at singeing a hairy pig.

Night after night I feed some of the most discerning diners in the world. Only yesterday I was getting the dinner on and the six-year-old asked what I was doing.

The nerve.

She'd seen me moving a bit of crumbed haddock from its packet into the oven.

"Fish?" she said pulling a face. "Yuck."

Quite calmly I told her she was no longer part of the household and threw her out.

People like that don't deserve my food.

Another daughter wandered in and, without asking, made herself a cheese and avocado sandwich. With vinegar!!!

Things got out of hand and the police had to remove her.

She sobbed, saying she was hungry, but I am afraid she will have to be taken into care.

Home cuisine used to be more tranquil, but since taking as my role models ultra-butch Gordon Ramsay and sulking hulk Marco Pierre White, I realise that if I want to cook properly I have to be a complete power-crazed bastard.

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This is the secret to great food, isn't it?

Of course not.

This hype about super-chefs has been going on far too long.

Hell's Kitchen continues the silliness, with Marco replacing Gordon this time round.

None of this actually encourages anyone to cook.

These guys are now just pantomime villains with restaurants.

Admittedly, they are usually given a load of dull-witted "celebrities" as their raw ingredients but, really, the fuss they make is insane.

And who can explain Gordon Ramsay's preoccupation with his genitals which now generate their own news?

In May this year, diving for Giant Crabs in Scandinavia (as you do), his testicles froze.

"I won't be opening a restaurant in Norway - it took three days for my balls to defrost," he told us.

Then, only last week he revealed how his sacred orbs overheated.

While cooking "commando in cotton trousers" he suddenly felt "searing heat --my balls were burning".

Isn't this fixation with his private parts indicative of his worry that perhaps cooking is somehow not a manly enough profession?

Marco Pierre White trying hard to menace the likes of Anneka Rice, someone from a boy band and someone who goes out with a footballer is similarly strange.

He is not fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan but cooking dinner for Neil and Christine Hamilton.

How hard can it be?

I know from my waitressing days that working in a kitchen is wearing, but these characters are too macho for words.

Anthony Bourdain is another one.

All drugs and long knives in the kitchen and on his travels, where he eats the still-beating hearts of snakes.

This is the chef as rock 'n' roll star.

But, sadly, there is no music and these guys are hardly rebels, they are businessmen.

To convey their raw passion, they rave about being carnivores and amusingly hate vegetarians.

Marco famously chucks people out if they don't like his food.

In his head perhaps he is leading his troops to war, but in reality he is having a temper tantrum over asparagus.

And these super-chefs don't want you to cook, anyhow.

They just want you to go to their restaurants.

No wonder people actually cook recipes from Jamie Oliver, Nigella, Delia and Nigel Slater.

Home cooking is just that.

We don't need our houses to look like hotels any more than we need our meals to be exotic restaurant fare.

The best cooks, some of whom may even be female, are those who are relaxed and enjoy food.

But don't tell the Hell's Kitchen big girls' blouses that. They might burst into tears.


A new Tory dawn...excuse me if I yawn

Tax, marriage and Europe!

These are the issues that the Tory true-believers apparently think will set their party alight again.

Are they for real?

Now Gordon Brown has come out as an ardent Thatcher fan I suppose anything is possible.

But do you know anyone under 60 who thinks that the State should interfere in personal relationships, who doesn't yawn at the mention of Europe - unless it involves a cheap flight - and believes that any politician is going to cut taxes?


Written off...the chav children

It is sad that, by the age of eight, children have already divided the world into chavs and chav-nots, according to research.

This is, of course, a way of talking about class.

We may have always talked about it but nowadays we do so with increasing contempt.

Chavs are not considered to be working-class people but an entirely different species who don't care about education or employment.

Basically we are writing off huge swathes of the population before they have left primary school.

And this after ten years of New Labour pretending we are all middle-class now?

It is not for individuals to have to examine the microscopic labels on foods to see if they contain harmful additives. It is up to our government to ban them, as so many other countries have. We could also ban the mass prescribing of Ritalin while we are at it. Who wouldn't support such measures?

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