Pandora: Corden reveals all

Meaty. Juicy. Wrong. Just a few of the adjectives thrown around the diary desk yesterday, as several employees ran screaming from the office, out in to the afternoon torridity, never to return.

The transgressing item was a picture in this week's Heat mag of the Gavin and Stacey actor James Corden, reclining, wearing only Armani pants, à la David Beckham's all-too-revealing billboard advertisement. The fleshy Corden appears to be amply upholstered in every department. I hesitate to reproduce the image lest you spray passers-by with a mouth of tea.

At the photo shoot, Corden emerged from the toilet cubicle and let his gown drop seductively. The make-up artist, Sarah, collapsed giggling. "I might stuff something down there," Corden suggested, unnecessarily.

Where are his guts, asks Floyd's furious manager

In a year that has seen him wave two fingers to the Grim Reaper from his hospital bed, not to mention being granted a "quickie" divorce from his fourth wife, life has not proved dull for Keith Floyd.

Just when he seemed to have gone uncharacteristically quiet – Floyd, 64, has officially been recuperating since he collapsed in a pub in January and subsequently sojourned in intensive care – the thirsty caterer has stumbled into a potentially bruising legal bust-up with his own manager.

Dartmouth-based Stan Green, who has managed Keith's affairs for 15 years, threw a colossal wobbly upon learning that £300-per-head cookery classes featuring his client were being advertised on the website of culinary pal Jean-Christophe Novelli.

Having previously been told that Floyd was taking sick leave, Green says he is now prepared to sue the old rogue for breach of contract. "Keith has an exclusive agreement with me," growls Green. "I've been turning down TV offers for him because he's ill and then I find out he's doing this. He hasn't had the guts or decency to get in touch with his own manager. He had better do so pretty sharpish, as I'll be taking legal action."

Curiously, when I call the Novelli Academy, I'm hastily informed that Floyd's scheduled baking lessons on 23 May and 17 June have been postponed. Says a Novelli spokeswoman: "All that is a matter for Keith and his manger. Anyway, Jean now doesn't feel Keith is well enough."

Maybe Keira should shut her effing mouth...

Keira Knightley is, like, so normal that she swears. A lot. In September, film bosses allegedly asked the British actress to chew on her tongue, after she spent an interview plugging Atonement by pretending that she was the progeny of a sailor and his Essex fishwife.

Could someone please wash out Keira's mouth with a bar of Pears, for her cut-glass tones have again delivered a volley of pearly expletives more suited to the narration of a flesh flick.

In a 30-minute sitdown with this Thursday's Total Film mag to push The Edge of Love, her forthcoming Dylan Thomas biopic, Knightley, pictured in a scene from the film, cusses 30 times, including the dreaded "C-word". She describes the director John Maybury as a "fucker", and his style as "grimy... you think there could be somebody fucking in the back alley". When Keira's mother Sharman Macdonald, the movie's scriptwriter, demanded she sing, "I nearly shat myself". As for British people: "We're a fucking nasty bunch of..." – and I think that will do nicely. Does her gutter mouth make her more ordinary?

Mozza's room service

Waxy croissants and burnt bacon rind at dawn! Pandora hears of a fresh skirmish between Morrissey and his magazine nemesis, the NME.

The Mancunian miserabilist is suing the publication after his remarks on immigration were splashed across its cover. So he was displeased to discover that he and the NME's editor, Conor McNicholas, were booked into the same Los Angeles auberge last week.

Mozza's fixer Merck Mercuriadis swiftly intervened, ensuring the bickering pair would not share a roof for long. "I have a very good relationship with the hotel, and when I explained the situation they agreed it would not be appropriate for Conor to stay," says Merck.

McNicholas was "courteously" dislodged. Gloats the NME: "Thanks to Morrissey's people, Conor got upgraded to a penthouse in a sister hotel."

Mastering art

Hurry, hurry, while the job lasts! We have until tomorrow night to apply to become a trustee of the nation's Tate galleries. Could you advise the Tate's director, Sir Nicholas Serota, on his acquisition of flickering light bulbs and "tins of shit"? To find out more visit www.tate.org.uk/about/workingattate/trustee.shtm. Charles Thomson, founder of the renegade, anti-Serota Stuckist figurative painters alliance, seeks the post and awaits to be called to interview. After he applied on 9 May, the Tate extended the deadline.

Pushing its report Death and Taxes, Christian Aid sought to build a tax haven island for bigwigs in the City, with sand, palms and deck chairs. Broadgate Estates, More London and Potters Fields Park Management Trust thought their corporate tenants might disapprove.