Shane Warne, Coralie, Eicholtz Photos..
THE good news, after a long and intensive search to find even some shred, is that Shane Warne's latest sex scandal has disappeared from the front pages of the British tabloids to a nice, cosy home on pages 8-9.
That's about as good as it gets. The bad news is that Warne's escapades now come complete with a photo spread guaranteed to outshine the obligatory text messages. Their grainy nature only adds to the delicious sordidness.
Still, as Warne falls headlong into another sex controversy there comes the time to fight the natural instincts of tabloid journalism for balance and fair play, no matter what you think of Warne and his previous indiscretions.
Warne is guilty of nothing more than stupidity this time around, admittedly something he has shown a dab hand at in the past.
Whereas in previous years Warne has acted terribly and irresponsibly, humiliating those closest to him in his pursuit of carnal pleasures, the boundaries have changed. He no longer has a clean-skin reputation, so he can hardly have sullied that.
He no longer has a wife, so who is there to be left upset?
That Warne's indiscretions no longer demand front page coverage could be less to do with the dog-bites-man newsworthiness of it all than something far more relevant: who, exactly, is he offending?
Naturally, he has broken all the rules of decent behaviour.
This issue has less to do with his three-in-a-bed romp than the goofy photos that have surfaced to support the claims.
There can be no defending images of the world's greatest bowler being whacked by a giant, inflatable appendage, no matter how naked the woman is that is doing the said whacking.
And few people can ever claim to look good standing full-frontal naked with the gut out, the least of them being a man who once took his mother's fluid tablets to bring down the swelling. Yes, there is a punchline there that will remain untouched.
Truth is, Warne was suckered by the women involved, and for a man with his profile and background he should have been smarter.
If they didn't release the photos, who did? Both women, according to reputation, are quick to realise the potential a sexy romp with the likes of Warne would demand.
Yet he walked right into it, even if this incident was a little different.
Whereas in the past Warne's women have been mostly anonymous and have sold their stories for a sizeable sum, the price this time around appears to be no more than the guaranteed publicity two women on the fringe of celebrity could generate by being associated with a guaranteed headline.
Coralie Eichholtz is a model and MTV presenter, a solid C-lister last seen pushing up against Robbie Williams at a London hotel a little more than a week ago, with unconfirmed success.
Her pal Emma Kearney is the host of Nice House, Shame About The Garden. Enough said.
The women reveal that, as usual, Warne's mode of seduction failed to vary from the usual routine - an expensive bottle of champagne following a barrage of text messages.
Yet it had the desired effect all the same. This time, though, the story is no more than salacious gossip, and you have to feel for a bloke who time and again can't seem to help but lead with his chin.
Stupidity is not a hangable offence.
That's about as good as it gets. The bad news is that Warne's escapades now come complete with a photo spread guaranteed to outshine the obligatory text messages. Their grainy nature only adds to the delicious sordidness.
Still, as Warne falls headlong into another sex controversy there comes the time to fight the natural instincts of tabloid journalism for balance and fair play, no matter what you think of Warne and his previous indiscretions.
Warne is guilty of nothing more than stupidity this time around, admittedly something he has shown a dab hand at in the past.
Whereas in previous years Warne has acted terribly and irresponsibly, humiliating those closest to him in his pursuit of carnal pleasures, the boundaries have changed. He no longer has a clean-skin reputation, so he can hardly have sullied that.
He no longer has a wife, so who is there to be left upset?
That Warne's indiscretions no longer demand front page coverage could be less to do with the dog-bites-man newsworthiness of it all than something far more relevant: who, exactly, is he offending?
Naturally, he has broken all the rules of decent behaviour.
This issue has less to do with his three-in-a-bed romp than the goofy photos that have surfaced to support the claims.
There can be no defending images of the world's greatest bowler being whacked by a giant, inflatable appendage, no matter how naked the woman is that is doing the said whacking.
And few people can ever claim to look good standing full-frontal naked with the gut out, the least of them being a man who once took his mother's fluid tablets to bring down the swelling. Yes, there is a punchline there that will remain untouched.
Truth is, Warne was suckered by the women involved, and for a man with his profile and background he should have been smarter.
If they didn't release the photos, who did? Both women, according to reputation, are quick to realise the potential a sexy romp with the likes of Warne would demand.
Yet he walked right into it, even if this incident was a little different.
Whereas in the past Warne's women have been mostly anonymous and have sold their stories for a sizeable sum, the price this time around appears to be no more than the guaranteed publicity two women on the fringe of celebrity could generate by being associated with a guaranteed headline.
Coralie Eichholtz is a model and MTV presenter, a solid C-lister last seen pushing up against Robbie Williams at a London hotel a little more than a week ago, with unconfirmed success.
Her pal Emma Kearney is the host of Nice House, Shame About The Garden. Enough said.
The women reveal that, as usual, Warne's mode of seduction failed to vary from the usual routine - an expensive bottle of champagne following a barrage of text messages.
Yet it had the desired effect all the same. This time, though, the story is no more than salacious gossip, and you have to feel for a bloke who time and again can't seem to help but lead with his chin.
Stupidity is not a hangable offence.
