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DIARY: Damn, damn, damn.

Damn, damn, damn. There I was, all set with Thermos and sandwich box to hang around the public gallery of the High Court on Monday, quivering with delight as the Princess of Wales was probed about the invasion of her privacy by Peeping Toms. Now the bloody woman has gone and settled out of court. It's not fair. We loyal fans, in whose drab lives the Princess's leotardal calisthenics at west London's LA Fitness Club were a definite high point, cannot be fobbed off with legal niceties. We need mor e.

But what's this? Over in LA, I see, outside the OJ Simpson trial, sits a chap called Wafsi Tolaymat, who has bought the entire contents of the hotel room where the Juice spent the night after his wife's murder. Mr Tolaymat hopes to sell everything - bed,ashtray, ice-bucket, toothmugs - as nasty souvenirs. Can't some bold entrepreneur approach the LA Fitness Club, buy its most famous exercise machine and sell off its constituent parts - pedals, spokes, weights, flanges - at a vast profit? Why, I know people who'd pay thousands for the saddle alone.