Let Them Eat Coke

Oh, I do love the annual Oscars clusterfuck. The frocks! The tears! Actually, sod that, it's the talent making complete and utter tits of themselves that's far more entertaining. So my inbox pinged to attention like a mongrel with the horn when this little gem arrived direct from a mole over in Hollywood.

Picture the scene: it's the inevitable coke-by-the-bucketful post-Oscars party, when out of the powder room stumbles Kirsten Dunst with more dust flying around her head than a bug in a Dyson, her hair a tangled mess plastered across her drug sweat-oozing forehead. "What were you doing in there?" asks the party's host. The best Dunst, a gerbil with cocktail umbrellas for tits, can manage? "Erm..."

All of which gives credence to the real reason she and Jake Gyllenhaal split: it was because of her drug hoofing and not the other way round, as her publicist would like you to think. It also makes this holier-than-thou quote from Dunst even more ridiculous than it already is: "I've never come across cocaine on a film set... I'm very naive about that. I don't smoke and I've only tried pot once in my life. I do everything in moderation. I drink, but I don't go out and get plastered. I deal with my problems, so I don't have vices over which I have no control."

Also spotted at the same party were Paris Hilton, queuing for the bog and looking absolutely battered, and Rachel Stevens, looking bored and a bit like a fat Felicity Kendal; only made of suet and with raisins for eyes.